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Keiji likes mornings.
He probably prefers it—the campus is quiet, ridden of people. The cool air is biting and to no surprise, cold—but the peace he gets is worth it. It’s not that he doesn’t like his roommate. Kenma doesn’t cause a lot of trouble, and they get along nicely. But it’s only lately when Kenma brings something (moreso someone) who does not give Keiji peace.
When he had first heard of “Kuro,” Keiji thought he was a cat. Kenma seemed like a cat person, anyway. But he was wrong. Kuroo was not a cat, but in fact, a person. In simpler terms, Kenma had a boyfriend.
In his opinion, Kuroo is…fine. He gives Keiji a similar feeling of a con man, especially with his entire look. Particularly, his dark clothing and his oddly mischievous eyes. Kuroo typically wears a large, black hoodie, which he sees Kenma with it on sometimes. Keiji usually makes the executive decision to ignore it, just like how he ignores how they are on some nights. Best for his sanity.
Keiji emerges from the café with a fresh coffee in hand. It’s burning—as expected. But his hands are cold, so it’s better than letting it freeze, at least. Thinking about it, he should have brought his gloves. It would’ve made holding the coffee and dealing with the cold easier. He shrugs it off though—they both weren’t unbearable.
Keiji starts to head back to his dorm, occasionally taking gulps of coffee. His tongue is numb to the burn, at this point. He’s more worried about his energy, anyway. With the amount of sleep he gets every night, (horrifically, he gets even less than his time in high school) it’s the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the ground. He imagines that he’s not alone. He sees students sleeping in lectures all the time. While Keiji is not one of them, he’s surprised he hasn’t—yet.
He feels surprisingly awake after a few sips, and the air is no longer so frigid. As he’s about to turn around a corner, the only warning he gets are faint footsteps, before—
Bang.
Keiji blinks. One moment, he’s walking back to his dorm, and the other—he’s on the ground, with his coffee knocked somewhere. He’s also staring up at two unfamiliar men, who have the same gawking face. It doesn’t take much—as little sleep he got—to realize that they’re twins. The first difference Keiji notices is that one of them has bleached hair, and the other one doesn’t.
While he would like to care, he’d rather get back to his dorm as soon as possible, and—seeing as his coffee cup is spilling, he’d get some more. Keiji very much does not want to be involved with whatever is happening right now. Unfortunately for him—
“Oi, ‘Samu!” The bleached-hair-twin says, the first to stop staring at Keiji. He frowns, facing who he called “‘Samu.” (Osamu, perhaps.) “You ran into him!”
Osamu (or is it really just Samu?) snaps out of his trance as well. Scowling, he looks at his twin. “No shit, ‘Tsumu!” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, turning to Keiji again—who is too tired, too busy, and too done to deal with this. Osamu’s features visibly softens, grinning sheepishly. “Ah, sorry. My bad. Are you okay?”
Keiji is, in fact, not okay.
“Yeah,” he decides to say instead. When Osamu extends a hand towards him, Keiji eyes it for a second. He accepts it, figuring that there’s nothing bad that can happen from that, and is pulled to his feet. Osamu’s hand is weirdly warm, in contrast to the cool air. Keiji lets it go a breath before it turns awkward, clearing his throat, quickly thanking him.
“Really?” Osamu frowns, seemingly forgetting about his twin. “I can buy you a new one.”
“Thank you for the offer,” Keiji says as steadily as possible, “and it is appreciated. But I’m fine.”
Without waiting for a response, he quickly picks the coffee cup up, and continues walking back to his dorm. He ignores any looks he thinks the twins are giving him. He might not even go for more coffee. The thing that lingers on his mind, however, is the sinking feeling that this encounter with the twins—especially Osamu—will not be his last.
“Hey,” Kenma greets him as Keiji walks through the door, feeling more sluggish than when he first got out. He pauses, then looks back at the TV. Probably video games. Other than hanging out with Kuroo, video games were probably Kenma’s favorite thing. “You look…” There’s another pause, as he sighs and slumps back on the couch. He rips his eyes from the screen, facing Keiji. Knowing Kenma, he probably needed to lose in order for him to actually look at him. “You look even more tired than I am. Did anything happen or something?”
Ah, yes. Something did happen.
“No,” Keiji sighs, settling on the couch next to Kenma. The TV has a few words written on it, but Keiji doesn’t have enough prior knowledge to know what it means. The only thing he understood was the words written in a large font: YOU LOSE. He blinks, looking away. “Ah. Where’s…Kuroo?”
Kenma stares at him for a few seconds, fidgeting with the game controller in his hand. “Kuro’s not here all the time,” he mumbles, propping himself up. “He’s probably in his dorm or something. Why?”
It felt like Kuroo was in their dorm 24/7. Keiji is almost used to seeing the same sly grin greeting him every morning. Taking what Kenma had said in account, it feels like Keiji is seeing the same grin that greeted him every morning. Today must not be one of them.
Keiji hesitates. “No reason in particular. He was here yesterday, so I was only wondering.”
Kenma nods, the attention he gave Keiji long gone as he picks up the controller again. “I see.” His phone, sitting on the small table next to them, buzzes quietly. Kenma sighs, eyeing it for a split-second before turning his attention back to the game. “It’s Kuro,” he says, tensing as Keiji sees a flash of light from his peripheral vision. “Can you read it?”
Nodding, Keiji picks up the phone. He ignores all their other texts, which had a weird mixture of group chats, notifications, and stickers that he would not like to see again, choosing to do so in his best interest. “He’s offering to have lunch with you,” he reads, squinting and rephrasing it in the clearest way possible.
In reality, the texts looked more like:
Kuro: oh my glorious prince kenma how are you this fine day my good friend
Kuro: i have emerged from the depths known as academics and i would like to go on a noble quest for sustenance. is there perhaps any chance that you would like to partake in this specific activity? if so bring yourself.
Kuro: oh and maybe Keiji if he wants
“And me,” he adds after a pause. He sets the phone down gently, glancing back at the game. He doesn’t know what’s going on—flashing lights, some vaguely fantasy setting—but Kenma seems happy. Focused, like always. Sometimes, Keiji thinks that Kenma could miss a fire alarm in this state. “I think,” Keiji says, after a breath. “Why does he text like this?”
“Beats me,” Kenma replies, not missing a second. It might’ve been the sleep deprivation creeping in, but Keiji thinks he catches the smallest twitch at the corner of Kenma’s mouth. It’s not a smile yet, but it’s close. Keiji smiles knowingly, eyeing the time on a weird cat clock Kuroo gave them. He starts to get up, feeling less fatigued from the conversation.
“I’ll come after class, then.” He pauses as he’s at the door, looking back. “See you.”
“Uh-huh, same to you.” Is Kenma’s typical reply.
The lecture had Keiji struggling to stay awake for a few hours. Fortunately, he still had caffeine in his system, and the short but nice conversation with Kenma had woken him up a little. And so his streak of not ever falling asleep in class continues. He trudges through the campus, now a little warmer, (at least, Keiji is no longer freezing) grateful for the sun’s heat. He arrives at the restaurant, where he already sees Kuroo and Kenma from the window. They already have three drinks out, one of them probably pre-ordered for Keiji. The shady businessman notices him, grinning and saying something to Kenma. The latter brightens a little, watching as Keiji enters.
“Hey,” is Kuroo’s greeting. Keiji sits on the seats opposing them. Kuroo watches as he does so, and Keiji can't help but think that in some manner, Kuroo is like Kenma. Although Kenma was more quiet, their piercing gazes felt the same. It's eerily similar to a cat. “So you really did show up. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Keiji says, hoping that he sounds convincing. When Kuroo raises an eyebrow, he sighs. “I'm just tired. But who isn't?”
Kenma makes a sound of agreement. Keiji does notice that Kenma looks—the very least, tired. He’s surprised how Kuroo managed to drag Kenma out, especially while he’s playing video games, but again…He doesn’t know their history, or how close they truly are. He has a hoodie pulled over him, probably done quickly. Kenma looks like a half-asleep cat, curled up with hands in his hoodie pocket, as he looks down on his phone.
Kuroo, although not acting like it, looks tired as well. He has dark circles under his eyes, which is pretty typical. Other than looking a little messy, Kuroo looks borderline okay. Which, for Kuroo, might actually be a high point. He doesn't look too insane, at least.
“Who isn't,” Kuroo agrees, sipping his drink. “Every coffee shop in a two hundred meter radius must be making a lot, right now.”
Keiji nods, slowly not paying attention as Kenma and Kuroo have a conversation. Something about Kenma’s new game. Something about Kuroo's professor, who “totally had something out for him.” Things that he didn't have context to. But he doesn't mind. He pulls the coffee they bought him closer, taking a gulp of it. At this point, he should be used to third wheeling. And thankfully—he is.
The door to the restaurant opens, as a small jingle sounds throughout the place. Keiji pays it no mind, choosing to think about his courses instead.
That is, until—
“Oh, hey. It's you.”
Keiji freezes, looking up. It takes him a few seconds to figure out who it was—he likes to call it sleep deprivation.
The table quiets. It's the person from earlier—Osamu. (Or was it ‘Samu? Keiji couldn't tell.)
He bites back a sigh. “Yes,” Keiji responds with the most composed voice he can muster. “Is there anything you need? If you’re here to buy me coffee, I don’t need it.”
Osamu grins, and Keiji doesn’t miss the way his eyes sweep over the people on the table. Kuroo looks as himself as always, and he returns the smile to Osamu. Kenma briefly glances at the commotion, but is quick to get back to his phone. There’s a few seconds of silence before it’s broken. When he’s done, Osamu looks back at Keiji. “Ah, of course. Don’t worry, I’m just sayin’ hi. But I still feel bad. Are you sure I can’t make it up to you?”
Keiji frowns. Osamu is oddly persistent about this.
“It’s alright,” he says curtly, setting his cup down. “But thank you.”
“You say that like you ain’t gonna see me again,” Osamu ignores the looks that Kuroo and Kenma give him, his gaze lingering. Keiji decides that at this moment, he doesn’t really like Osamu. His posture is oddly relaxed, comfortably taking up as much space as he needs. This only annoys Keiji further. “Campus ain’t that small, y’know?”
Osamu. He annoys him, for some reason he can’t exactly pinpoint.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to watch where I’m walking,” Keiji replies evenly, taking a sip of coffee. His jaw clenches slightly, not even caring that Kuroo and Kenma are there, at this point. He holds back the temptation to say things he’d probably regret, biting out a quiet “enjoy your lunch.”
“See you around,” is Osamu’s stubborn response. He walks off, leaving Keiji to sigh, gulping more coffee down. He’d like to say that he’s tired, but right now, he really isn’t. But he needs the caffeine nevertheless. The hot liquid—now cooler—runs down his throat, stripping his exhaustion away with every drop.
He almost forgets how Kuroo and Kenma are there, now quiet after Osamu came to the table. Keiji nearly feels bad. It wasn’t a serious issue, anyway. Before he can say something, Kuroo gets to it first.
“So. Care to explain what that was?” Kuroo leans forward, still wearing that sly smirk on his face. Keiji doesn’t understand how he can always keep that up. While he doesn’t expect a certain reaction out of them, Kuroo looks intrigued, more than anything. Keiji feels his eye twitch. “Who is he, your new friend?”
“Keiji made a friend?” Kenma pipes up, a rare moment of him sitting up a little. “How did that happen?”
“Nothing happened,” Keiji replies coolly, eyes trailing after Osamu, who sits down with his brother. He tightens his jaw. In all honesty, he doesn’t understand why everyone—namely, Kuroo—is prodding at a minor event that happened that morning. He sighs in exasperation, what feels like his nth time today. “I don’t even know him. All he did was crash into me this morning, that’s it.”
“Funny. Are you sure that’s it?”
Keiji takes a long sip of coffee. “For a scientist, you jump to a lot of conclusions.”
“Alright, alright.” Kuroo leans back, holding his hands up in faux surrender. “Well, let’s get something to eat. I’ve been starving since this morning.”
Keiji doesn’t respond. His gaze lingers, just for a second longer, on the back of Osamu’s head. “Okay.”
When Keiji is walking through the campus on the next day, he feels half-dead. Fortunately, today his classes are a little later into the day, so he has time to rest. But he still has a pile of work to do, and as efficient as he is with his time—it seems neverending. It’s a little warmer today, especially without a mass of clouds hanging over the campus. With every exhale, he still sees his breath curl, but the air feels—surprisingly nice. If only he could have this every day.
The streets were empty again. At last. After yesterday, it feels like the first moment of peace he had in a while.
With bleary eyes, he yawns, stepping out of the café. He probably has an unhealthy amount of caffeine circulating through his system, but it doesn’t matter. He needs it to stay awake. With it being almost July, he prefers to get everything sorted before finals.
His footsteps echo through the alarmingly hollow area. There really is nobody here. Keiji settles on a bench, which is cool to the touch, deciding that he doesn’t need to head back to his dorm yet. Somewhere nearby, birds are chirping quietly in the background. He watches as the wind blows stray leaves, idly taking sips of coffee.
“You seem to be enjoyin’ your time,” says a voice, seemingly out of nowhere.
Osamu. Of course. At this point, Keiji can’t tell if running into him everywhere is a coincidence or not. He suspects it isn’t.
Keiji’s eyes snap to the source of the voice, and he tries not to sound too irritated when he speaks. “Ah. It’s you.”
Osamu holds a white bag carefully as he sits down on the bench beside him. “Mhm. Sure is.” He offers the bag, extending it toward Keiji. The latter raises an eyebrow, blinking in confusion. “Here. Freshly made onigiri. These are leftovers, and I figured you need somethin’ in you other than caffeine.”
Keiji eyes it, then hesitantly accepts it. “Thanks,” he says slowly, telling himself he’s only taking it out of courtesy. He pauses, swallowing as he finds his next words. “If…this is about yesterday, I said you didn’t have to do anything. You know that, right?”
Osamu shrugs, eyes drifting toward the trees. “Just happened to see you.”
Yeah, right, Keiji thinks, but he decides to keep quiet—for now. He stares at the bag, peeking inside. Just as Osamu said; three pieces of onigiri, wrapped snugly in a container. While he’d claimed they were merely leftovers, the warmth radiating from the bottom of the bag tells a different story.
Ah. So Osamu really is trying to make up for it, perhaps.
“It’s not poisoned or anythin’. You can stop starin’ at it like that.”
“Hm?” Keiji looks back up, slightly dazed as he blinks the fog away. “Oh. No, I…I’m not assuming they’re poisoned.”
“Then why’re you lookin’ at it like they are?”
“I’m not doing it on purpose,” Keiji says, a twinge of annoyance sparking in his chest. He smooths his expression, taking a small breath. It’s barely noticeable—except for the soft curl of vapor it forms in the cool morning air. He sighs, standing up with his coffee in one hand and the bag in the other. “Thank you. I will…certainly enjoy it.”
If Osamu notices the hesitation, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he gives him an easygoing smile and nods once. “You’re welcome. ‘Tsumu’s gettin’ sick of ‘em anyway.”
“‘Tsumu,” Keiji repeats. He remembers—the other person with Osamu that day. The twin with bleached hair. They looked almost exactly alike, save for their hair, which made the resemblance unmistakable. “Your brother?”
“Atsumu,” Osamu corrects.
“I see. You must be Osamu then, correct?”
“Yeah. And ‘Tsumu’s my twin brother.”
“I couldn’t tell,” Keiji deadpans quietly. He clears his throat. “Ah, sorry. Are you two close?”
Osamu gives him a small smile, ignoring Keiji’s previous comment. “You could say that, yeah.” He pauses, looking at Keiji. He swallows—perhaps it’s hesitation. “Yeah, we’re pretty close. We…I mean, we’ve been livin’ with each other our whole lives, so. He’s annoyin’ sometimes, though.”
Keiji raises his eyebrows. “I see.” He thinks back to the other twin—loud and brash, from what he could tell. While Osamu was less…like Atsumu, he was still annoying in his own way. His confident smile makes Keiji’s blood boil, for some reason. So in some way, Osamu is like Atsumu. Considering they were twins, it isn’t out of the question. “I understand why you may feel that way.”
“You say that like you know ‘im.”
“I don’t. But from what I’ve seen, he seems like that kind of person.”
Osamu grins, previous hesitation gone. He approaches Keiji until there’s around thirty centimetres separating them—in other words, too close. His grip tightens on the bag. He feels Osamu’s eyes on him, giving him a once-over. After a painstakingly long pause, Osamu hums. “Well, I appreciate your pity.” He steps back without another word. “See you later. Maybe I’ll even learn your name next time.”
As Osamu walks away, his words linger in Keiji’s head. Next time, he said. Keiji sighs. Seems like his life was going to get a little more chaotic.
“You look like you’ve been run over by a truck,” Kuroo jokes as Keiji somehow makes it inside the dorm.
“It was a train,” he deadpans, placing his shoes neatly on the genkan. After setting the bag on the counter and tossing his now-empty cup into the bin, Keiji immediately heads to his room. He hears vague sounds of Kenma and Kuroo talking—something along the lines of, at least he’s alive.
Keiji switches on the lights, sitting down on his neatly made bed. Other than a bunch of papers scattered across his desk, with neat handwriting scribbled onto them, his room is clean. He’d left them after passing out for a short period of time, so his room is clean as per the standard.
Keiji had been studying until he saw the sliver of daylight from the windows. The curtains covered the glass, but light still shined into the room. The birds had already been chirping for a while by that time. While he’d like to rest, he doesn’t have the time. He sits at his chair, head already spinning as he skims over his notes. He’s never struggled with academics, though—he knows he’ll be fine.
“Keiji?” There’s a knock on his door, and a muffled voice that is unmistakably Kenma’s.
“Come in,” he responds automatically.
The door quietly creaks open. Kenma audibly sighs, looking up from the ground. “How are you?” He still stays outside the room, just enough to peek his head in. “You should go to sleep…or something. Kuro says that you look really tired.”
Keiji pauses. Then, ignoring Kenma’s question—“Did…Kuroo tell you to console me?”
“Yeah.” Kenma shrugs. At least he’s honest. “He told me to check up on you, and stuff. Also, how fast do you consume your daily coffee? And how much caffeine do you have in your system?”
“An unhealthy amount,” Keiji says without hesitation. “A lot. Too much. What’s new?”
“Well, there’s that…” Kenma furrows his brows slightly, as if trying to find the right words. Keiji says nothing, waiting patiently.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been talking less than normal every day, so.”
“I’m fine. If I had anything else to say, other than it being related to sleep—I don’t have it. I still appreciate your concern, though.”
Kenma nods. “Okay. And one more thing. Kuroo was poking around and wanted to ask what was in the bag.”
Keiji raises an eyebrow. Truth be told, he was never planning to eat any of the onigiri anyway. What he could do is have his roommate—well, roommates, technically—eat it instead. That way, he doesn’t waste food, and he doesn’t waste Osamu’s effort. If Osamu even put effort into the onigiri, that is. So, he decides to follow through.
“Of course Kuroo would ask that.” He clears his throat. “Ah. The bag has a few onigiri in it. Take it if you want. But… there’s a small possibility it’s poisoned. Just a small one.”
Kenma squints at him, but looks away a second later. “Okay,” he says simply, without questioning the last part, then closes the door softly. Keiji can hear his footsteps retreating into the living room, leaving Keiji alone once again.
It isn't exactly peaceful in his room, but at least it’s quiet. Keiji enjoyed the morning walks to get coffee more than he imagined—it’s become the best part of his day lately. Even if he will see Osamu again, (which is very likely) the fact that he doesn’t have to study or do work or put much effort into his interactions—is surprisingly nice…with the exception of the uninviting temperatures at times.
Keiji manages to power through his work, which left him even less sane, but he’s still functioning. He decides that he should take a break for once, to stretch his limbs or something before his back hurts too much. A water break should be enough.
“Hey,” Kenma mumbles absentmindedly. To Keiji’s surprise, he’s actually studying, instead of playing some video game. He looks the part, anyway—a few notebooks are sprawled out on the coffee table while there are stacks of paper next to them. Kuroo is also gone—Keiji assumes he’d left. “The onigiri isn’t poisoned, by the way. At least, I don’t think it is. They’re pretty good, actually.”
“Hm. Really,” Keiji says, getting a mug from the shelves and pouring warm water into it. He takes a sip. He doesn’t feel any better immediately, but the walk is a little freshening. He eyes the bag, which has been opened. An opened container sits at the top of it, as well as a single onigiri left in it. Keiji is pretty sure there were three of them originally, which meant that Kenma and Kuroo probably had one each.
“Well. I mean, yeah. Where did you get them from?”
Keiji’s jaw tightens, hesitantly reaching for the container. “Someone…gave it to me,” he says slowly. There’s no harm in trying. If Kenma and (possibly) Kuroo ate it, and said that it was…at the least, borderline okay, he doesn’t have any reason to not. And—as much as he doesn’t like to admit it—he hasn’t had anything in a while, so he’s a little hungry. Before he can think of anything, he lifts the onigiri up, taking a single bite out of it.
Didn’t Osamu say these were leftovers?
Oh, no. Keiji thinks he might be doomed.
So, yeah—Keiji might have a new favorite food at the moment.
He returns the empty container to Osamu the next morning. And of course, the bastard has the audacity to smile in a way that is not casually polite. Probably proud and/or smug, considering the person. What’s worse, is that there’s no way Keiji can’t admit that it wasn’t good. And Osamu probably knows.
“You actually ate it,” his eyes widen slightly in genuine surprise as Keiji holds out the container. They’re sitting on the same bench as yesterday, and…it’s still as cold as Keiji remembers. Osamu accepts it, placing it beside him. “So. Did’ja like it?”
“You’re giving it to someone you don’t even know the name to,” Keiji responds, completely ignoring Osamu’s question. “That’s…kind of you. Giving food to a stranger.” He takes a sip of coffee, feeling as dead as yesterday.
“You looked like you needed it,” Osamu sighs, watching his own breath clouding in the usual chilled weather. He stuffs his hands in his sweater pockets. “I’m not goin’ to lie—you looked like you were so close to endin’ it all the day I crashed into you. I was simply helpin’ you out, y’know?”
“Not because you felt like you owed me.”
“Yep. Not because of that.” Osamu gives Keiji a warm smile. He leans back, yawning. Keiji didn’t realize it at first, but he sees light eyebags under Osamu’s eyes. His heart twitches. Is there a possibility that…Osamu woke up early just to see him? Keiji almost frowns—almost. “Speakin’ of which. Seriously. Did’ja like it? ‘Cause the only other people who really eat it are me and ‘Tsumu. I think they taste nice, but I’ve never gotten confirmation from other people.”
Keiji inhales. He knows that there isn’t a way out of this. But…he doesn’t need a way out, does he? “It’s good,” he decides to answer. He isn’t sure if it’s impulsive, or if it’s from his actual thoughts. “It’s…really good. Makes me doubt that they’re truly just…‘leftovers.’”
There’s a few beats of silence. Somehow, in the back of Keiji’s mind, he questions if he’s made the wrong choice of words or something. But when he analyzes what he’s said, he doesn’t find anything wrong with it. Is he missing somethi—
“Oh, by the way.”
Keiji gets pulled out of his thoughts, blinking rapidly to tune back into the conversation. “Hm?”
“I brought you more,” Osamu says, expression unreadable as he pulls out another bag. Keiji can only stare, frowning. He’s about to protest, but Osamu continues before he can. “I guess to make up for the crash, it’s the least I can do.”
Keiji doesn’t know what to say. For the first time in what he can remember, he’s speechless. He tries to grasp at anything to blurt out, but even that leaves him empty-handed. “I…” Keiji looks at the bag, darting his eyes in between Osamu and the onigiri. He blurts without thinking—“Are you insane?”
At first, Osamu doesn’t do anything. But then, he laughs. A full, genuine laugh that’s too warm compared to the cold temperature Keiji feels. He gasps when he runs out of breath. “I’ve never seen you so clueless,” he grins. “Oh, my god. I’m sorry. But to answer your question—not insane. I need a customer, anyway.”
“Don’t do this again,” Keiji says, a reluctant hand accepting the bag. “I don’t want to inconvenience you—”
“You’re not inconviniencin’ me—”
“And you shouldn’t get up so early just to do this—”
“Ah, guilty. Maybe I just want to start my business early,” Osamu shrugs, that stupid grin still plastered onto his face. “Just take it, okay? I like makin’ onigiri, and who knows? Maybe I like givin’ it out to people.”
“And who does that include?” Keiji bites out, energy he didn’t know he had inside him emerging. He suddenly doesn’t feel so dead anymore. He sounds more concerned than angry, he realizes. “You said the only people who really had it were you and your brother.”
“Look, man. Just take it.” Osamu takes a step back, putting his hands into the air. “I’m doin’ this willingly. And I wasn’t kiddin’. These really are just leftovers, and you look like you haven’t put lunch into yourself in a while.” Keiji opens his mouth to protest, but Osamu continues. “Besides. You like it, right? Well—that’s a win-win. I get to make onigiri, get rid of extras, and you get to have free lunch. Ain’t that a good deal?”
Keiji hesitates. He looks down for the first time in their conversation, noticing that his hands are trembling. Huh. That’s fairly new. “If you’re sure it’s not affecting you too much,” he starts slowly, swallowing, “then it’s okay. I—thank you.”
“Anytime,” Osamu replies. “And uh, do I get to learn your name now?”
Keiji almost rolls his eyes, and finds it surprising that he doesn’t. “It’s Keiji,” he says without second-guessing himself. “Akaashi Keiji. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Nice to meet you,” Osamu’s usual smile doesn’t annoy Keiji anymore. He finds it warm, just like the light that starts to creep up the sky. “I’m Miya Osamu. You can just call me Osamu, to avoid confusion with my brother. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance too, Akaashi.”
They shake hands, like it’s the first time they met.
And Keiji thinks—only a thought—that maybe it’s not so bad to have a little chaos in his life, afterall.
It’s almost like a routine, now.
Even if it’s only been a week, Keiji feels like this has been going on for much longer. He also—somehow—never grows tired of plain onigiri. There are times where Osamu plays around with the flavours a little. Most of the time, it’s tuna mayo. Other times, it’s things like umeboshi (soured plums. Keiji likes them.) But whatever flavour Osamu makes, they’re always packed neatly. So intricate and carefully placed.
But of course, with all good things, come with even worse things. Keiji likes to call them Kuroo and Kenma. Because—of course they’d catch on. He knows that his roommate and his technical-roommate-by-definition were observant. But it doesn’t take an observant person to realize that he was bringing in a container (they had agreed to ditch the bag. Actually, it was more so suggested by Keiji. Strongly.) every single day of the week.
At first, it was simply light suspicion. Kenma hadn’t commented on it, but Kuroo certainly had. Small remarks like “secret chef” or something, since Keiji refused to disclose who had given him perfectly packed onigiri everyday.
Keiji thinks it’s the ninth day he’s been sharing onigiri with Kenma, when Kuroo decides to poke at him.
“So…Akaashi. Are you by any chance dating?”
Keiji gives him a flat look, sighing as he places the container on the coffee table. “No,” he sighs, taking one. “Why? Does it look like it, or anything?”
Even Kenma exchanges looks with Kuroo. “Well, no…” Kenma says, eyes trained on the TV screen. It’s a fantasy-looking RPG again, with Kenma probably playing as an elf of some sort. “But I have to admit. It’s a little…odd that someone would make lunch for you everyday. Didn’t you mention that someone gave this to you and stuff?”
“Yes.”
“And you look more alive these past few days,” Kenma adds, which Kuroo nods to. “I mean. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re actually getting nutrition and stuff…but still. It looks a little odd to me.”
Thinking about it, Keiji has felt more alive. True to Kenma’s word, it could just be the food, and the fact that he was actually consuming something other than caffeine. But at the same time…Keiji thinks about the conversations he has with Osamu. The fact that he doesn’t have to put up an act, (maybe he’s just too tired) or let his guard up. He’s not saying that his conversations with Kuroo and Kenma are bad. He enjoys them, from time to time. But Osamu is…different, in some manner.
Maybe it’s the fact that their words linger in silence. That none of them feel the pressure to break it, or to forcefully say something else. Maybe it’s because— both of their lives have been chaotic, and they find peace with each other. Maybe it’s the way that Osamu never presses or forces Keiji to say anything. In all their previous conversations, all Osamu had done was…sit down, talk about things that were interesting, and give him onigiri. And it makes Keiji feel like himself…whatever that’s supposed to mean.
Maybe it’s not about the food. Well, the onigiri has certainly done something , but it wouldn’t magically make Keiji comfortable around Osamu. Or maybe it did. Maybe it was infused with a spell of some sort.
Keiji stares at the onigiri in his hand. It’s still warm, fresh—he can feel it through the wrapping. There’s a sudden ache in his chest, and he’s not sure how or what caused it. He blinks rapidly. Yeah, maybe Osamu has put a spell in this onigiri.
Either way, he swallows, slowly unwrapping it. Osamu had said they were leftovers. But now—looking at the still warm, delicately packed onigiri, Keiji isn’t so sure. Because—leftovers weren’t packed with such care. Such precision, such carefulness…leftovers aren’t usually wrapped so deliberately, with every single detail perfect…
“I don’t think,” Keiji chokes out, frozen in place, “I don’t think these are leftovers.”
“Uh, duh ?” Kuroo chuckles, casually reaching for one himself. He unwraps it, taking a bite. “These are still fresh,” he says, after swallowing. “See? You can feel how hot the rice is on the inside. Damn, Akaashi. Whoever’s feeding you must be good.”
“That liar,” Keiji grits out, making Kenma somehow take his eyes off the screen briefly.
“Did I miss something?” He asks, doing some complicated combo on the TV that Keiji can’t understand. Kuroo cheers.
Damn Osamu and his cursed onigiri.
“You lied,” is the first thing that Keiji tells Osamu the next morning. The latter only chuckles, handing Keiji a container. The inside is clouded. Keiji doesn’t believe this is his first time noticing—how else could the container be fogged if the onigiri wasn’t warm? He blames this on his chronic sleep deprivation. Or Osamu’s magical abilities (while that is a large overstatement, Keiji needs something else to blame this on). “These aren’t leftovers. They’re obviously fresh.”
“I did,” Osamu admits shamelessly, laughing as Keiji takes the container. “And you still take it. So, what does lying cause for this…arrangement?”
Keiji can’t help but smile. “Nothing.” After a pause, he quickly backtracks. “If it truly doesn’t cause you any trouble, of course.”
“It doesn’t. Really.” Osamu sounds authentic when he says this. It’s not enough for Keiji to fully believe him, but truthfully—he mostly does.
They spend a while simmering in silence, mostly watching the way the leaves blow, or the sun dancing higher and higher into the sky. Keiji also notices it’s getting warmer. The mornings are no longer biting or freezing. In fact, he doesn’t need to wear a jacket or a sweater anymore. Unfortunately, it’s a painful reminder of how close finals are.
Keiji knows he has work to do. But he lets himself sit in this moment. For once, clearing his mind of any worries or struggles. It’s surprisingly hard, but it doesn’t take much to turn off his brain early in the morning. He’s lost to the gentle breeze, the soft chirps he hears in the background, and of course—there’s Osamu.
He wonders if Osamu feels the same.
As he studies a few hours later, he smiles as he unwraps the onigiri. He’s about to bite into it, when something catches his eye. It’s something vaguely yellow, stuck to the bottom of the container. Keiji squints, picking it up.
In messy handwriting, he can make out: Hope you’re eating well. Please make an effort to not look like a starving, caffeine-addicted, average college student :)
“Not very subtle, you know,” Keiji says to Osamu the next day.
Osamu’s usual grin is only comforting now. “Hey, someone’s gotta keep you in check. Who else is gonna do that, hm?”
Keiji’s smile lingers. And maybe—just maybe—this really isn’t about the food, after all.
Finals week were pure stress, and even more sleep deprivation.
So, Keiji is grateful for coffee. And his morning time. While he’s only had time to make a quick chat with Osamu, (and get his daily onigiri) the interactions still stay with him the entire day. Like how Osamu’s notes get increasingly more frequent. He’s lucky that Kuroo and Kenma are too busy to notice.
He had to admit—it gave him the power to finish the day.
Fortunately, finals week is over, and for the first time, Keiji was able to sleep. It isn’t long though, before he wakes up at 5:30AM from habit. At first, he doesn’t even think of waking up. He’s tired, and whatever amount of sleep he got definitely wasn’t enough. But—at the back of his mind—he thinks of Osamu.
The entire way walking to the coffee shop, he curses himself for not sleeping in. There’s a brief thought that Osamu wouldn’t show up, and he’d got up for nothing. Actually, Keiji is very much considering that possibility, hence the reason why he’s annoyed he got up.
He tries to not act surprised when Osamu does appear, because that man is insane. Technically speaking, it would make him a hypocrite, and also insane as he also showed up. But never mind that. Keiji likes to think he prefers this over sleep.
Osamu yawns, settling next to Keiji on the bench. “Mornin’,” he exhales. The sun’s already risen halfway. It’s a noticeable change from before, when they watched the sunrise together. While Keiji does miss looking at the sky change, the warmth he gets is pretty nice.
“Morning,” Keiji greets, gulping down the same coffee he’s tasted for more days than he could count. He sighs, almost wistfully looking at where his breath would be visible. He takes another small sip. “You didn’t have to show up.”
Osamu chuckles. “You didn’t have to, either. You missed up on a heck ton of sleepin’, y’know?”
“Funny. I could say the same thing about you.”
“Well. I guess we’re in the same boat.”
Keiji hums, pausing when he sees Osamu hand him the container. It really had been a few weeks—maybe a month, even. And every single time, Keiji’s still surprised that Osamu still does it. He takes it.
“I guess there’s not much else I can say but thank you.”
“Hey, I should be the one thanking you,” Osamu grins, pulling his phone out. “It ain’t like I’m the person who appreciates my onigiri so much. It’s not everyday I see someone who doesn’t get tired of it.”
Keiji nods tiredly, stifling a yawn.
Osamu scratches the back of his neck. “Uh. If you don’t mind, maybe we can exchange numbers? In case you want more onigiri or somethin’. Or if…I dunno. Just if you want.”
“Sure.” Keiji pulls out his own phone, and they add each other to their contact lists. They get quiet after that. Keiji is tired, and Osamu is probably tired. He doesn’t blame himself or Osamu. They must’ve sat in silence for a while, because the sun is fully up at one point. There’s faint chatter in the campus, and Keiji internally feels—annoyed.
When he looks at Osamu, he doesn’t seem to be bothered.
Then, seemingly from nowhere—
“Wanna come to a party with me?”
Keiji frowns, looking back at Osamu. “Hm?” He’s never really attended parties, especially ones in college. But the crime rates are generally very low, so while there’s still a threat, there’s a small chance that anything would happen, really.
“Yeah. A party. Where you hang out with people, ‘n stuff—”
“I know what a party is,” Keiji narrows his eyes, noticing that he hasn’t taken a drink from his coffee cup in a while. It’s probably cold, by now. Osamu smiles. “I’m not…that serious. I’ve just never been to one before. Not an informal one, at least.”
Osamu blinks. “Are you serious? Damn. If you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to. It’s just an invitation of some sort.”
He sighs. “It’s okay, I can go.”
There’s nothing that can possibly go wrong.
At least, it’s what Keiji tells himself. There have been barely any crimes reported, and it’s very, very unlikely for a drink to be spiked, or tampered with. It’s unlikely that criminals would try to bring harm to him, and it’s very unlikely that something genuinely dangerous would happen in front of him.
In other words, Keiji isn’t nervous at all.
With Osamu beside him as they make their way in, it makes things slightly better. He doesn’t even know if Kuroo and Kenma would be here, which—he hopes they are. It would be a lot easier navigating the area if he had more people he knew. Or, there’s something else he considers—maybe the point was to not have people he knew very well. Maybe he had to meet new people.
He figures it would be good for himself. Meet new people, so that he doesn’t only have to talk to Kuroo, Kenma, or Osamu. Not that he needs it, but apparently, according to some studies, it shows that loneliness is very unhealthy.
Not that he’s lonely, of course. He doesn’t feel that way, at the very least. He simply thinks that having more people to talk to would result in further positive results, much like his interactions with Osamu.
Which is precisely why he’s not anxious or scared at all when Osamu tells him: “Ah, sorry. I gotta catch ‘Tsumu, here. Can’t have him causin' more trouble again. ‘Specially not with that ‘Omi’ he speaks of.”
Keiji nods, lacking significant context—specifically, the 'Omi' person. He decides it’s not worth knowing. He sulks near the edge of the place, unsure of what to do. He sees people talking to each other, and he knows it’s technically what he’s supposed to be doing, but he doesn’t find a need or way to actually engage in a conversation with someo—
“Look at what we have here,” a very unknown voice says to him out of nowhere. Keiji whips his head around, frowning. He’s aware that there’s a small chance that the stranger had malicious intentions, but he keeps his guard up anyways.
It’s a man, dressed in a classy, navy-blue suit. He’s tall—taller than Keiji, at least. Maybe an inch or two. He swears an infuriatingly proud smirk, and his clothing reflects it. From top to bottom, he looks like he’s dressed for either a business meeting, or a date night. Keiji couldn’t really tell.
There’s a man next to him—noticeably shorter. He has a drink in each of his hands. He’s also scowling, but not at Keiji—he quickly realizes that it’s directed to whoever talked to him.
“Oi, Shittykawa,” he warns.
“What?” Whoever Shittykawa is responds, quickly shifting his expression into an innocent smile. Whatever that was, the gruff-looking guy doesn’t fall for it. He only grunts, throwing a glare before turning to Keiji. His features visibly soften.
“Oh, sorry.” He clears his throat. “This is Oikawa. Please excuse him.”
Oikawa rolls his eyes playfully. “Oh, please. And this is Iwaizumi. You know—the short one, wearing the less stylish—”
“I will pour this drink on your head—” Iwaizumi interrupts.
“In front of him ?” Oikawa gestures to Keiji, who stares at them, eyes darting back and forth. “In front of our new friend?”
Keiji opens his mouth, about to say something in response. One being, he really doesn’t know what’s going on, and what their history is, and two, how he’s immediately referred to as Oikawa’s friend. One sickly sweet look on Oikawa makes him stop, and Keiji, in that moment, decides to classify them as potentially dangerous. A reason being, Oikawa simply has too many unknown things about him.
But still, he doesn’t find the need to run. Iwaizumi, although acting dismissive and cold towards Oikawa, is surprisingly—nice. He thinks that Oikawa’s the only exception. And while the latter is a little overwhelming and flamboyant, it’s not something Keiji can’t work with.
“Nice to meet you,” Keiji says instead, nodding slightly. “I’m Akaashi Keiji.”
Oikawa grins. “I like you already.” Keiji isn’t sure how to respond. “See, Iwa-chan? This is perfect. He’s polite, you’re…okay , and I’m polite.” He smiles brightly, ignoring the exasperated looks Iwaizumi gives him. Keiji can’t say that Oikawa is polite, but he is…interesting. Oikawa suddenly claps his hands. “So! Since we’re all clearly going to get along, we should start to get to know one another.”
He takes a glass from Iwaizumi, who mutters something about ‘Trashykawa’ or something among those lines. Oikawa takes a sip, then facing Keiji with a smile that’s mildly threatening. “So. Is there a reason why you’re alone?”
“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi warns him again.
“What?” Oikawa sighs, turning around to face Iwaizumi. “He’s obviously by himself. I’m trying to help him here. I don’t want him to be lonely.”
“I’m not lonely,” Keiji argues, but he knows he’s coming up short.
“Ah, I see.” Oikawa grins, smug and very unlike Osamu’s. “So when you were sulking in the corner of the room, you weren’t lonely, then. You were…” He hums, as if putting actual thought into this. Maybe he actually is. “...Drifty. Like a balloon.”
Keiji hesitates, and at the exact same time, Iwaizumi deadpans, “Wow. That’s a terrible analogy.”
Oikawa huffs. “Well, it’s accurate.” He turns back to Keiji, smile not so sickly anymore. It’s more of a neutral expression. Keiji thinks he prefers it this way. “So. Who brought you here, and left you alone ?”
“He didn’t leave me alone.” Keiji mumbles, feeling intrigued yet mildly irritated at the same time. That is a new combination. “He…had to go take care of something.” Oikawa raises his eyebrows as he takes another sip of his glass, humming.
“Mm. I see.”
“So he didn’t leave me alone, or anything.”
“Ah. I understand, Aka-chan.” Oikawa licks his lips, throwing the nickname out there casually. Keiji bristles, and in the exact same moment, Iwaizumi gives him a look of pity. “So…who is this? I may or may not know him.” He twirls the glass in between two fingers, and Keiji watches it closely, hoping that it won’t fall.
“Osamu,” he says. When Oikawa frowns, Keiji clears his throat. “Ah, you might know Miya.”
Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows in recognition. Oikawa probably knows who that is now, since he nearly drops the fragile object from his fingers. Other than that, he gives nothing away. His face is still smiling, like always, but Keiji notices it’s less easy-going than before.
“Ah,” Oikawa simply says. “Why, yes. I know Miya. Brash. Loud. Annoying.” Iwaizumi snorts, but Oikawa pays him no mind. “I find it hard to believe that he brought you here—”
“Oh. Oh, no. Not that one. It…it wasn’t Atsumu,” Keiji tries to explain. “He has a twin. Less of a…menace. His name is Miya Osamu.”
Both Iwaizumi and Oikawa look as confused as before. So Osamu was more on the unknown side to them. Keiji keeps this in mind. Osamu has mentioned that Atsumu tends to get into a lot more trouble, so it made sense that they knew less of him.
“His hair isn’t bleached,” he feebly attempts again, not really expecting them to know, but they nod in recognition. Keiji hears things like ‘oh,’ and ‘yeah, I thought I saw him.’
“Well then,” Oikawa looks—interestingly enough—borderline nice when he doesn’t exaggerate his expressions, or when he isn’t making Iwaizumi angry. Keiji could almost start to feel comfortable around them. “Looks like we have a lot to talk about. We can start by saying things about ourselves…”
“Oh, he likes doing that a lot,” Iwaizumi brings the back of his free hand to his forehead, seemingly annoyed. Keiji believes he truly is, but he can see the smile that almost creeps up his face. Almost.
Keiji manages a small smile. He doesn’t feel as comfortable as he is with Osamu, or when he’s alone, but he can work with this.
He can work with this chaos.
Keiji doesn’t know what time it is when he sees Osamu again.
He’s had…one drink. He thinks he’s a little too paranoid, sometimes. But after a lengthy conversation with Oikawa and Iwaizumi, he decides—as odd and weird as they may seem, they’re good people, and Keiji actually likes them. So that was slightly new. Fortunately, one drink isn’t enough to break his filter, or his composure. By the looks of it, Osamu hasn’t had a lot, either. He looks the same as always—maybe just slightly more tired, but that was it.
“Keiji,” Osamu says, visibly brightening when he sees him. “Do you know how late it is right now? Damn, I’m tired.” Despite his words, he grins. “You look tired, too. Maybe you should’ve taken those extra hours of sleep. Onigiri ain’t that special, anyways.”
Keiji almost feels—offended . He’s aware he wasn’t the one who made the onigiri, or the fact that he had no reason to feel that way. So—why?
Osamu’s expression softens, frowning slightly. “Akaashi?” He asks quietly, subtly moving away. Keiji notices. “Are you okay? Did anythin’ happen or somethin’?”
“Ah. No,” Keiji replies absentmindedly. He blinks a few times. “No, nothing happened. Sorry, I happened to space out. Please continue.”
Osamu doesn’t press, but his look of concern lingers. Keiji is confused, because there shouldn’t be any reason to be…taken aback by what Osamu said. His last words, “onigiri ain’t that special, anyways ” keep on repeating in his head. Ah. Keiji thinks he knows. This time, it isn’t the fact that the onigiri is definitely cursed.
“It is special,” Keiji finds himself saying out of nowhere. Even he’s surprised, along with Osamu, who was probably mid-conversation. Keiji feels a twinge of guilt, but it’s not comparable to the—sadness? Anger? He isn’t sure what it is, but it’s definitely negative, and it’s stronger than the hesitation. “It’s special, because…” Keiji struggles to find his next words, mind as empty as the second time Osamu gave him onigiri. It feels like yesterday, yet it also feels like ages.
Osamu doesn’t interrupt him. He doesn’t try to finish Keiji’s sentence. He sits comfortably in silence, waiting patiently for Keiji to finish.
“Stil...if none of it happened, I wouldn't have met you.” Keiji finally admits. A gate deep inside him finally opens, and he’s not sure what it even contains. He’s not sure if it feels good or not. But it doesn’t matter—a surge of emotions comes rushing out. One second, Keiji is standing in the party area, watching as everything—the lights, people, music—blurs together. Next, he’s crying in Osamu’s arms.
Keiji isn’t too sure why he’s crying. He’s also not sure if he’s ever admitted these…emotions to others, before.
Either way, he decides that it’s ultimately good, because once he stops crying, he feels—lighter. In some manner, it felt like he was carrying something before. And now, he isn’t. But he thinks the thing that struck him the most is that Osamu doesn’t push him away. He doesn’t judge him, and leave him alone. He doesn’t shrink in disgust, or anger, or anything.
He’s just…there. Just like all the other mornings.
And to Keiji, it means everything. He concludes that this chaos—may actually be a good thing.
Keiji remembers what happened. Well—most of it, anyway. He remembers returning to his dorm. He remembers seeing Kuroo and Kenma. And he remembers…the familiar scent of rice vinegar, in which he held very close.
When Keiji wakes up, there’s a part of him that hopes it’s early.
He’s not even sure if Osamu would continue sacrificing his sleep for him. It’s the seasonal holidays, anyway. Who would wake up early in the morning for that? Well. He was proved wrong last time.
It’s noon.
He feels groggy, and there’s a dull pain he decides to push to the back of his head, but other than that, he’s—fine. Probably. Keiji skips the coffee. He doesn’t think that he needs it, anyways, after a long night of rest. While there’s still a voice nabbing him to buy one, he doesn’t surprise himself when he heads to the bench first thing.
Keiji…expects Osamu to be there, and there he is. Insane, that man. He smiles, knowing that he has the same amount of sanity when he sits down next to Osamu. The latter smiles as well, knowing Keiji is there without sparing a glance.
It’s different when they’re together now.
Maybe it’s the crowd. They usually meet up at unorthodox times, when the entire campus is silent, empty. Perhaps it’s the time of day. It’s usually a little colder. Maybe it was the fact that the sun was fully up in the sky, shining in its full glory. They were all good reasons it felt different.
But—deep down—Keiji knows it isn’t the case.
Osamu is there, right next to him. They’re not touching, but Keiji feels like they went beyond just physical contact. Last night—from the bits that Keiji could actually remember—Osamu hadn’t left him. He was right there, all along. He never left Keiji. He didn’t even laugh, or do—anything, actually, other than just being there.
All of Osamu—was there. For all of Keiji.
Osamu shifts slightly, sighing. He finally faces Keiji, the same smile Keiji grew to love in all of its glory. They’re left in silence, just looking at one another. Keiji doesn’t know who would break the silence. He doesn’t care.
“You look better,” Osamu says.
Keiji nods, any need for guarding his heart all gone. “I feel better.”
There’s another pause. They’re both painfully aware of how thin that line truly is, and how easily it can be broken, for the first time. Keiji inhales. Usually they didn’t care for situations like ‘awkward silences', but he feels as if it could break with a breath that’s too loud. Delicate.
“I waited,” Osamu finally breaks the veil, looking up at the sky.
Keiji sighs, no longer missing the cold mornings. Because—it’s all perfect the way it is. “I know.”
“I love you,” Osamu tells him, and Keiji would be lying if he didn’t know. He says this so casually, as if they were discussing something else. Keiji feels his fingers twitch, itching to grab Osamu’s hand, to do something.
And yet—Keiji’s breath hitches, because it shouldn’t be so normal. He wants to say something. Do something. Because Osamu’s words, as little as they were—felt real.
And together, in the warm sun, Keiji does just that.
“I love you, too.” Keiji says.
And like the first onigiri, it arrives without him asking, and settles into the space he didn’t know he’d left open.