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Whoever said that distance makes the heart grow fonder, doesn’t know what it’s like to be stuck in a relationship with the owner of a successful restaurant that’s more than 300 kilometres away. A relationship that mostly consists of calls and broken promises, hastily make-up and almost break-ups instead of discussions about a cleaning schedule. Every bit of domesticity and intimacy is hard earned. A huge price to pay for the promise of loving each other.
Rintarō has never been an overly emotional guy and especially never gets attached to people too easily. He has never stayed too long to form a decent bond with anyone. So it’s quite unusual for him to know people for more than ten years.
Even more unusual for him is the existence of his long-distance relationship he has with a man that he met in high school of all places.
Whenever people use the term “high school sweethearts” he would never conjure an image of Osamu and him. They aren’t sweet and cute like the protagonists in one of those shōjo manga. Their relationship is based on more than love. It’s trust and promises. Years over years of fighting the right fights and letting go of the bad.
Maybe fifteen year old Rintarō has been a bit of a romantic and he was definitely quite too naive when he stumbled into the gym of Inarizaki, only thinking about volleyball. He didn’t go out of his way to play in Hyogo of all places to knit new bonds.
It’s usually how his life turned out. His parents had already dragged him all over the world, living in big cities, in different countries, wherever their job as diplomats needed them to be. So he never had the chance to actually form a friendship. He had acquaintances. Rintarō just wasn’t used to being attached to anyone besides his sister. The only real constant in his life which also had been dragged out of his hands. This time because of his own decisions to move away from Aichi.
The first weeks in high school Rintarō just observed his new teammates. He took mental notes about their habits and mannerisms, watching and observing the odd dynamics between the twins who are two menaces he didn’t want to bother with. But seeing Aran dragging them apart is amusing at least.
It takes him around two months until people start getting nosy and insert themselves into his life.
He’s glad that he shares his dorm room with Ginjima and not with Atsumu or Osamu. Ginjima doesn’t ask questions and doesn’t care if Rintarō is staring too much at his phone. He even shares his snacks with him now and then, which is a huge bonus in Rintarō’s eyes.
But as it goes his peace and quiet is interrupted one afternoon when the door is thrown open and a mop of blonde hair storms into the room.
“Gin-kun!” Atsumu shouts and startles Rintarō.
“What’s wrong, Tsumu?” Ginjima mumbles, sleepy from dozing on his bed.
“We need you! Osamu thinks that umeboshi onigiri are better than fatty tuna and I need someone to support me!”
Ginjima sighs. “Really?”
“You get free food, so stop complaining!”
It takes Atsumu maybe three seconds before he turns to Rintarō and then points a finger at him. “And you too, Sunarin.”
In hindsight Rintarō should have said no. He didn’t want to be sucked into the dumb antics of the twins. He just wanted to stay where he was.
But when Atsumu dragged him out of his bed, he decided that maybe free food was worth the trouble.
An hour later Rintarō fell in love with Osamu.
As he now lies on his sofa and stares at the ceiling of his apartment, a volleyball in his hands, once again contemplating his life decisions, he thinks fondly of the first time he tasted Osamu’s onigiri.
They haven’t been perfect, oddly shaped and maybe the rice was overcooked, but it had been the first home-cooked meal he ate since he left his home and therefore it was the best onigiri he ever tasted.
He remembers how Osamu has been forming them, right in front of him, most of the volleyball team attending this impromptu taste test, his hands slightly shaking. What Rintarō doesn’t know at that time is that Osamu is scared shitless. He has never been the person who wanted to shine in the spotlight. He only got pulled into it by Atsumu because his twin is loud and obnoxious. Osamu is more subtle.
Kita - a boy who is and always will be a mystery to Rintarō - is the first to voice his opinion on Osamu’s food.
“It needs a bit more filling,” he says. “But I think it’s a good start.”
“I agree,” Aran says, eating his third tuna onigiri, a happy smile on his face.
“The tuna is the best, isn’t it, Sunarin?” Atsumu addresses him again with this silly nickname.
“I like the umeboshi,” he answers after taking a bite, knowing that this will piss off Atsumu.
A laugh slips out of Osamu’s mouth and soon all of them are laughing.
“Thank you, Suna,” Osamu says later, once they are alone.
“You’re welcome, Osamu” he says, smiling as Osamu’s eyes light up.
From then on out he gets integrated into all kinds of outings. Ridiculous wars over video games and movies, contests and competitions between Atsumu and Osamu most of the time, more often than not involving the whole volleyball club in their antics.
But there are also times when Osamu and him are by themselves, enjoying the silence in one of their dorm rooms.
It’s the time he treasures the most. When Osamu shines on his own, they share secrets with each other, laughing about Atsumu’s fan club, and just enjoy being themselves. There’s nothing else he needs to be happy.
Summer comes faster than anticipated. Followed by time he visits his family.
He doesn’t think he will miss his life in Hyogo as it's just temporary but three days staying in his bedroom he wonders what Osamu is doing.
He regrets not exchanging phone numbers and sighs as he realises he doesn’t even have Ginjima’s number to ask for Osamu’s. It’s unfortunate that he has himself attached to people.
Normally by this time most of his acquaintances have lost interest and leave him alone.
He just isn’t a social person or at least nobody who seeks out others.
When he finally comes back, he is relieved that Osamu is waiting right in front of his room, a huge box in his arms.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“Food delivery,” Osamu proclaims, a tiny smile dancing on his lips.
“Didn’t know Onigiri Miya is doing deliveries now,” he jokes and it makes Osamu snort immediately.
“As if I am a real chef,” he says, downplaying the greatness of his cooking skills.
Rintarō isn’t by far an expert but he knows that Osamu’s cooking skills are amazing. He knows how to make delicious meals effortlessly. He has seen him doing it long enough now that he thinks there’s a high chance that Osamu makes cooking his profession one day.
But instead of saying all of this, wondering why he even has the urge to praise Osamu he invites him into his room and they share a cozy afternoon eating home-made food while watching a movie.
He doesn’t even mind that Osamu falls asleep on his shoulder. And that says a lot.
I wish I could eat some onigiri now, he thinks as he tosses the volleyball aside and closes his eyes, throwing his arm over his eyes. I miss him, is the second thought that crosses his mind.
When summer turns into autumn he starts spending more and more time with Osamu outside of volleyball practice. Sometimes Atsumu tags along, on other occasions they are with the rest of the team. But it doesn’t matter to Rintarō. He just wants to be with Osamu, no matter what they are doing.
That fleeting feeling he experiences when Osamu touches his skin sometimes makes him wonder if that’s what real friendship feels like. That he’s longing for Osamu to notice him in a crowd is the sign of a deeper bond.
Until his eyes start wandering to Osamu’s lips and he suddenly understands.
Rintarō tries to hide his infatuation. He behaves like normal but keeps his distance. He doesn’t want to slip and get lost in his feelings.
He can’t get attached. He can’t ruin a friendship because he might have feelings - feelings he has never felt before - for his best friend.
So he avoids it. He pushes down any emotion that he feels. And it works for a total of one week. Because it takes Atsumu just seven days to figure out that something is fishy.
“Say, Sunarin, when do you want to tell ma brother you have the hots for him?”
He almost dies choking on his water and splurts all of it on the gym floor in front of him.
“What?” he asks, trying to save his face but Atsumu isn’t fooled. The grin that spreads over that bastard's face says it all.
“Yer eyes are ogling his ass,” he comments and then leaves Rintarō with the last bit of his dignity.
He isn’t able to block a single volleyball whenever Atsumu throws him a look over the net.
He laughs out loud in his sad and empty apartment at the memory of his confession to Osamu just hours later. How he stutters and blushes while he strings together words that make any sense. Luckily Osamu doesn’t wait until he makes any sense. He just pulls him into his room and seals his lips with their first kiss, many to follow.
The rest of their high school years they share all of their firsts, some of them are hurting - like a fight that lasts for two weeks - others healing - when Osamu tells him he loves him - most of them just as perfect as their first kiss. Osamu and him are living in a world of bliss and love for so long that reality brings them back months before their graduation.
At this point they both know that they can’t stay together, at least not physically. Suna is scouted for EJP Raijin and Osamu will stay for culinary school.
As they kiss goodbye at the train station, tears falling down their faces, they promise each other to hold onto their love. That nothing can bring them apart. Not even the distance.
And they do keep their promise.
They fight and cry, and then they laugh and cry even more because their love is too big but not big enough to fill all the holes that distance is putting in their hearts.
Osamu sends him home-made cookies and Rintarō shows him videos of his volleyball practice. Whenever Osamu is cheering him on during his matches he scores the most. And when he opens Onigiri Miya Rintarō is his first customer.
They debate about holidays and anniversaries, have desperate sex in the morning when they need to say goodbye once again.
Rintarō’s laughter stops as he thinks about the tears in Osamu’s voice the last time they called.
They can’t continue like this. It’s slowly breaking them apart.
He wants to be attached to Osamu. Not because he needs to - and he needs Osamu like he needs breathing - but because he wants to.
He isn’t overly emotional but because of Osamu he has experienced love that goes beyond everything he has ever felt.
He jumps up from his sofa and then runs to his door. He doesn’t know when the next train is due. He doesn’t have an overnight bag. Because all he needs is in Osaka: his heart.
As he opens the door, he stops.
“You promised,” Osamu says, eyes full of tears.
“I promised,” he says and draws him in for a kiss.
The next day, when Osamu is still asleep, he starts writing his resignation letter, his eyes smiling as they find the new silver band on Osamu's hand, matching his own.