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Osamu had hung a jangly little bell above the entrance door, for the rare occurrence that he was working alone and wanted to be alerted to a customer’s approach. The bell jangles, and he slips out from the kitchen with his customer-forward smile plastered across his face. The expression is doomed to fall, though, and immediately returns to its more typical flat annoyance.
“You,” he says.
“Missed you too,” Atsumu replies. Osamu doesn’t bother further engaging with the ‘customer,’ instead turning and immediately disappearing back into the kitchen.
“Over here,” Aran calls, and Atsumu’s attention is taken away. The interior was not set up for a ton of indoor seating, but there are an array of metal tables and chairs for a couple of people to use. Atsumu grabs one of these metal chairs, scraping it across the floor with a squeal as he drags it over and sets it up to join his friends.
“You would not believe the day I’ve had,” Atsumu says, dropping into his seat. He intends to immediately start complaining, but his attention is grabbed, instead, but realizing that Aran was wearing a button down shirt with a chevron pattern in every shade of neon rainbow, just a flashing, glaring gay as fuck beacon to anyone who was looking. “Dude,” Atsumu says, shaking his head. “Which unicorn did you murder for its pelt?”
“Unicorns aren’t rainbow,” Kita says, immediately, with a confidence that makes Atsumu want to investigate what Kita seemed to think unicorns - the fictional animal - could and couldn’t be. But he can’t, because Aran is talking, much louder.
“It’s pride month, dude!” Aran says. “You can’t make fun of me for wearing rainbow during pride month.”
“I absolutely can,” Atsumu says. “Watch-”
“Don’t be homophobic now,” Aran says.
“I was blowing a guy three days ago, rest assured when I say you look like a kids cartoon that directly causes inappropriate outbursts in class, I mean it with all the love for the gays in the world,” Atsumu replies.
“Whore,” Suna says, not looking up from his phone.
“Oh, come on,” Aran laughs. “I’m just having fun. It’s a rainbow.”
“It’s an offense,” Atsumu says.
“I tried this this morning,” Kita says, shaking his head slowly. “He will not be swayed.”
“Pride month is for pride,” Aran asserts, jabbing a finger into the table. “And I will not be bullied into wearing anything less than maximum pride this month.”
“You might end up maximum single, for it,” Kita mutters.
“Oh, come on,” Aran says. “All of my friends can’t be sticks in the mud. Not one of you digs the rainbow?”
As he’s speaking, Osamu has reappeared from the kitchen, having first wandered over to the front door to flip the open sign around and lock it, and then carry a tray of the leftover pre-made onigiri from the cabinets that hadn’t sold. An excellent boon of a close friend and brother that ran a shop that prided itself on “made fresh every day” sales was that all the leftovers needed to be disposed of. Atsumu’s stomach could do that.
Osamu sets a try of miscellaneous onigiri down on the table, before stepping back and crossing his arms.
“It’s not that we don’t want to… wear the vomit of a carebear,” Osamu says, waving a hand. “It’s just. Y’know, different for us.”
“It’s different for you?” Aran says.
“Yes, you grew up all… Western,” Osamu says. “You spent your summers in Canada, your parents are both culturally Canadian.”
“Yeah, I know,” Aran says. “I know that. I’ve… noticed the difference, trust me. But you guys are all out to your parents. And each other, and your friends. What’s holding you back now?”
“Deep rooted shame?” Atsumu says.
“I’m afraid of retribution from the divine,” Kita replies.
“I never came out to my parents,” Suna adds.
“What?” Osamu says, surprised. “I thought you had!”
“What would I come out as?” Suna says. “Oh, yeah, sorry, no pregnancy scares for me, the idea of sticking my dick in someone makes me want to vomit.”
“Well I wouldn’t phrase it that way,” Kita says.
“My point is, whether or not I tell my parents, the end goal is that I’m not dating anyone. So they may as well live in bliss assuming that I’m not dating girls specifically,” Suna says. Aran opens his mouth, and before he can say anything, Suna is jabbing a finger across the table at him. “And before you say anything about living my goddamn truth, it’s not like your coming stories inspire much hope, you’re all paragons of disappointing your parents.”
“That’s not true,” Atsumu scoffs.
“Yeah, Atsumu didn’t need to be gay to disappoint our parents,” Osamu replies.
“I did,” Kita says.
“Mhm?”
“Did what?”
“Disappoint my parents,” Kita replies.
Atsumu narrows his eyes. “I’m sorry, I thought your parents had passed?”
Kita tilts his head to the side. “How foolish of me. Must have been a slip of the tongue,” Kita says, sharply. “Thanks for the reminder. Let me rephrase. I disappointed my grandmother. Better?”
Atsumu, now sufficiently embarrassed and unwilling to risk another verbal misstep, puts his hands up in surrender. Kita’s attention leaves him, and instead he reaches to take one of the onigiri. Everyone is glad for someone to have finally done so, and they all reach to take one as well.
“You know,” Suna says, turning his over in his hands as if he’s never seen a pyramid before. “I don’t think I’d ever heard the story of how you came out. I was sort of just gambling based on family history that it wouldn’t have gone well.”
Kita hums a response, covering his mouth with his hand as he swallows, before saying: “I knew I was gay very young, I mean-” he reaches a hand over to link his fingers with Aran’s, under the table. “But it wasn’t until I was mostly done with university that I decided to bite the bullet on it. I almost didn’t. It was awful. But I didn’t want to continue spending every holiday without my boyfriend, so… I waited until after dinner one evening, when it was just me and my grandmother, and I very seriously sat her down and told her the truth. That I wasn’t straight, and never was going to be.”
Suna raises an eye. “And how did she take that?”
“Bad, she told me I was single handedly ruining the good legacy of my family and everything we had built.”
“Ouch.”
“But you still live with her,” Osamu says. “If it was that bad, why stick around?”
“Oh,” Kita says, perking up slightly. “Well, it… was bad for a while, I spent most of the week crying and eventually Aran had come to pick me up since I was gonna stay at his place for a bit, at which point my grandmother asked me if the person I’d ‘turned gay for’ was Aran, to which I… didn’t challenge her phrasing, but did admit to the relationship, and… well, it turns out she likes Aran more than she hates gay people.”
“Really?” Atsumu says.
“I’m charming, grannies always love me,” Aran says, lifting his hands up to raise the roof.
“Don’t do that,” Kita says.
Aran puts his arms down. “Turns out six years of bringing her butter tarts and pecan pies pays off.”
“She actually said to me,” Kita says, leaning on the table. “That as long as it’s Aran she can’t really fault me for it.”
“Dude, I think your grandmother is love with your boyfriend,” Suna says, as Kita sits back in his seats.
“Yes, I came to the same conclusion.”
“And I’m repressing that,” Aran says.
This makes Atsumu laugh. “Well, I have to admit, hearing that isn’t exactly inspiring, I can see why Suna would be wary. But our parents actually took it real well-”
“They took me real well,” Osamu says, crossing his arms. “Your bisexual ass just swept in and rode my coattrails.”
Aran huffs, lifting a hand up to rub over his face. “I almost forgot about this.”
“What’s happening?” Kita asks.
Osamu turns to him. “I hadn’t told anyone in my family that I was gay,” Osamu says. “Not even Atsumu. I was stressed as hell, and thought I was gonna be homeless. I was actually on the fence about telling Aran first in case I needed to leave the house for… an amount of time.”
Atsumu has already began to giggle. Osamu swats at him before continuing.
“So I spent a week having a nervous breakdown, until I finally decide to just go for it, before school, middle of breakfast, I stand up - I don’t know why I stand up, I panicked - and then basically immediately started crying, go back and forth on ‘I have something important to tell you,’ and then not saying anything because I was so terrified. And then finally, I manage to say ‘I’m not straight,’ and then through my panic ‘I like boys, I think I’m gay,’ and - you know, I got lucky, even if they were a bit weird about it, my parents did accept it. And it probably would have been a beautiful fucking moment with my parents except this waste of half an embryo says-”
Atsumu, muffling full laughter, raises his hands and says: “Ditto.”
“No,” Suna says, immediately, putting a hand on his face.
“Hey, Osamu did all the hard work,” Atsumu says. “And I didn’t know he was planning all that. I just saw an opening, we were already talking about it.”
“It was exceedingly unfair, and what’s even worse is like… two weeks later you brought a girlfriend home and got to remain the golden boy, be out as bisexual and take none of the damage for it. Meanwhile mum hasn’t even asked me if I’m dating anyone since I came out.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a dork,” Atsumu says. “And she knows I got all the charisma.”
Suna coughs, aggressively, into his sleeve, barely covering the word: “Whore.”
“You already called me that, once,” Atsumu says. “Ya don’t need to cough cover it this time. I know what you said.”
“What who said?”
“What?”
Suna looks away from him. “No offense, to all of you, but that’s still not… you know, relevant to me,” he says. “I’m quite comfortable with my parents thinking I’m a basic straight male. It doesn’t influence me at all.”
“But you’re not,” Osamu says.
Suna shrugs, looking down to the onigiri he held and picking at the seaweed a bit. “Yeah, but… it’s a lot of heartache for something that doesn’t matter, right?”
“Of course it matters,” Aran says.
“I understand the instinct to hide from it,” Kita adds. “But… it is worth it, on the other side. Even if the bad thing happens.”
Suna chuckles. “Yeah, but… I’m not.. Coming out for any reason. I’m not admitting that I think I’ve found the one, I’m not trying to live authentically, I’m not even making a joke at my brother’s expense,” he says, nodding to Atsumu. “It’s really weird to come out as a negative. I don’t know what they would say - I know what they’d say if I was gay. But… Asexual sounds a little… you know, it’s a whole lotta nothing. So I don’t think it’s worth the time.”
There’s a moment of silence, before Aran says: “This is why I’m wearing the rainbow shirt.”
“...Because Suna’s asexual?” Osamu says, tearing his eyes away from Suna to look at him again.
“Yes,” Aran says. “Pride isn’t always about… you know, feeling it for yourself, sometimes it’s about… feeling it for other people. I got lucky, I came out and my mother barely batted an eye about it. But not everyone did, and seeing someone wearing a beautiful rainbow shirt, during June, is a beacon. To anyone else who didn’t get lucky, that there is happiness around the corner, that they’re not alone. Pride is about… all of us. Goofy and stupid or not.”
“Ugly,” Kita says. “The shirt is incredibly ugly. But… yes, I agree.”
“Sometimes creating a safe space is no more complicated than wearing a shirt,” Aran says, looking over at Kita and grinning. Kita sways slightly, leaning his head into his shoulder.
“Good speech, but I still hate the shirt.”
“Yeah the shirt is god awful,” Atsumu says.
“Please do not use my name as an excuse for that shirt, I don’t want to be a part of it,” Suna says.
“Fine, fine!” Aran says, before rather dramatically starting to unbutton the front.
“Woah!”
“Dude!”
“Keep your clothes on!”
Kita sat up in alarm, but it’s only just in time for Aran to strip the button-down off, and reveal the rainbow tie-dye undershirt underneath.
“Why do you own that?” Kita shouts, shifting back in his seat to look down at him. “How did you hide that from me?”
Aran tosses his offensively rainbow shirt at Atsumu’s head, who swats it away with a laugh.
“It’s pride month, bitch, get with the rainbow, or get gone.”
---
Osamu has to lead the way inside the shop, since it’s well after hours now. The moment the key unlocks the door and it opens into the dark restaurant, an absolute flood of rainbow clad young adults fill the space.
It’s not just his usual after-hours bunch, but rather a significantly larger group, including a handful of Atsumu’s MSBY teammates. It makes the dark restaurant immediately burst to life with noise and laughter.
It would be remiss to not address the outfits these adults were wearing, but it would be impossible to qualify. They had come from an Osaka Pride event, and had dressed for the occasion. Some of them made due with what was in their closest, some going all in. The group was a blur of rainbows, face paints and flags. Hinata’s sneakers lit up in bright colours with each click of his heels. Someone had smeared the MLM flag colours across Sakusa’s cheek, though it had smeared entirely down now, where he’d tried to rub it off. It gave him a bit of a sad clown vibe, which sort of worked for him, especially paired with the colourful medical mask he wore.
Aran may as well be a walking rainbow flag, from his shirt to his pants to his shoes, and Atsumu, originally strongly against the rainbows, had eventually caught the fever of the pride event and allowed someone to smear his face with every colour of paint.
Suna was the only one who had abstained from the explosion of colour, his brown hoodie having served him quite well despite the heat of the afternoon.
There’s a grinding noise as several of them grab chairs to drag over and settle around a little table. Osamu locks the door behind them, people drop into seats. No small number of them have had far too much to drink, and each seems to talk over the other.
“There’s food here, right?” Hinata shouts, catching his attention.
“Ah, yeah, yeah, I’ll get something, hold on-”
“Food, food, food, food-” Bokuto has started to chant, both of his arms covered in what was supposed to be face paint that he’d gotten entirely carried away with, beginning to bang on the table.
“Baby, he’s bringing it,” Akaashi says, softly, putting his hands on Bo’s to try and still him. Akaashi was the other person who’d mostly abstained from the rainbows, but someone had managed to pin a rainbow flag badge to his chest before the day had been done.
Osamu disappears to actually work, the rest of the drunk lunatics settle into their seats.
Without quite enough chairs easily accessible, some concessions are made. Sakusa is very happy to stay a ways away, leaning back against the wall to participate over everyone’s heads. Kita solves this problem by taking his seat on Aran’s lap, both of them laughing as he settles. Kita had not been interested in glitzing himself out in rainbows and flags, but he had tried to find something thematically appropriate for the day.
Atsumu leans forward, to get his attention.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, beckoning up and down Kita’s body. “Is the unicorn’s thing new, or did I just miss this about you back at school?”
Kita perks up, looking down at his outfit, a colourful shirt patterned with unicorns. “Oh.”
“He’s always been like this,” Aran says, though what’s meant to be a tease comes out unbearably fond, as he presses his nose into Kita’s shoulder.
“I like unicorns,” Kita confirms, looking back at Atsumu. It’s weird seeing their ex-captain drunk off his rockers and swaying even as he sat, only staying upright from Aran’s hand on his back. Kita had been known to drink though, he was very all or nothing in that way. Not like Atsumu was doing any better.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say about it?”
“What, you have something to say about it?” Kita replies, instantly flipping to aggression. “They’re beautiful, magical creatures that are pure of heart and soul, what could you have to say about that?”
Atsumu puts his hands up. “Woah, sorry-”
“Don’t be mad at him,” Aran murmurs, hand squeezing his side. “He didn’t know any better.”
“No he didn’t…” Kita mutters under his breath, before, with no warning, becoming completely distracted by Aran and beginning to kiss him, messy and giggly.
“Woah,” Atsumu repeats, looking for help.
“It’s like watching my parents kiss,” Suna says, nose scrunching up.
“Can we kiss too?” Bokuto says, turning on Akaashi. Akaashi immediately puts his hand up, blocking Bokuto from pushing in with a hand on his chest.
“No,” Akaashi says, which makes Bokuto pout, so Akaashi lowers his voice and mutters: “Later, okay?”
This perks him back up again, and Bokuto grabs at his boyfriend, perhaps also a little too drunk as he tries to get Akaashi into his lap as well, making the other laugh despite his protests.
“Ugh,” Hinata says, looking between them. “We get it, you guys are unbearably happy-”
“Where is your usual lover, by the way?” Atsumu says, trying to put mental blockers for Kita across from him, and Bokuto beside him.
“Not out to his family,” Hinata pouts, crossing his arms. “Didn’t wanna risk a news headline by showing up to a pride event.”
“That sucks,” Atsumu says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Hinata says. “You know, just… Yeah. Sucks. Pride month might only be one month of the year, but… you know, this community has been a massive pillar in my life for years. I wish I could tell him that it could be that for him, too, but…”
Atsumu shrugs. “Not everyone’s ready.”
“I know,” Hinata says, before turning to side-eye Aran and Kita. “This doesn’t help, though.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Atsumu agrees, before reaching over to swat at Aran’s arm - he didn’t dare try and touch Kita. “Psst! You two! Stop being grossly in love!”
“It’s not like you have any reason to be jealous,” Suna scoffs, standing up from the chair he’d grabbed. He briefly offers it to Sakusa, who declines with a wave of his hand.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Atsumu scoffs.
“It means that I’m surprised you’re even here right now,” Suna says. “Given your track record, I assumed we’d lose you halfway through the night to go find someone else’s bed to sleep in.”
Atsumu scoffs, but his usual flirty dismissal of the somewhat deserved accusations on his habits don’t come to his tongue. Suna keeps waiting for it, eventually giving him and rolling his eyes.
“I am not that bad,” Atsumu says after a moment, sounding actually embarrassed.
“Yeah, you are,” Suna says. “I’m pretty sure you left my last birthday to hook up with the waiter.”
“I- I did not!” Atsumu says, eyes, briefly, darting over to where Sakusa was watching, having raised one eye in curiosity. In his embarrassment, he resorts to just straight up lying. “It’s not like I’m some… sex obsessed freak, I…”
“You what?”
“Shut up!” Atsumu says, perhaps also a little too drunk for this. He crosses his arms, looking away instead, and Suna is left to laugh and saunter off, to check what Osamu was getting up to.
The kitchens are dark, save for the one light Osamu had turned on, and at this point he was just about done putting together a couple plates of some of their most popular onigiri ingredients, fresh rice being bowled for the side.
“Sounds like everyone’s having fun out there,” Osamu says, not glancing over his shoulder as he worries about filling bowls with rice.
Suna wonders if he could tell who it was, or if he was just making pleasant small talk. His eyes grab a reflection off an overheat vent, and thinks maybe Osamu can tell. He shrugs, a useless action when someone’s back is turned, then says:
“Kita and Aran are making out, Hinata’s become a weepy drunk, and Atsumu just tried to convince me he wasn’t a whore. So. Yeah, fun.”
Osamu smiles slightly, before finally looking back at him. “I take it you’re not having as much fun?”
“I’m having plenty of fun. I loved getting to walk all day in the hot sun while people screamed and played terrible music and danced in jockstraps, it was great.”
Osamu laughs.
“You didn’t have to come, you know.”
“Yeah, but after Aran’s little speech about safe spaces and… I don’t know. It’s not like I don’t want to have fun, y’know?”
“I know,” Osamu replies.
“And I don’t exactly fit in with the dude-bros throwing their dicks around, so…”
“You do not.”
Suna shrugs.
Osamu stares at him for a moment, before lifting a hand up, playfully tugging on the rainbow badge pinned to his hoodie.
“Hey, it looks like you managed to get a little decked out anyway,” Osamu teases, overwhelming fondness in his voice. “Whether you like it or not, the colours do suit you.”
Suna wants to feel it.
He does, he’s tried.
Suna was not a dumbass, quite the opposite. And he’d noticed Osamu’s not so little crush on him back in their third year of school. He’d kept hoping it would go away. Kept hoping Osamu would find someone who would love him the way everyone else loved each other. Even though a bigger part of him lived in fear of the day that happened, and Suna really would be on his own.
Osamu must read the discomfort on his face, since he pulls his hand back in embarrassment, and mumbles a ‘sorry,’ under his breath before grabbing the tray of food he’d prepared.
“Here, come on. Let’s go be heroes and feed the hungry masses.”
Suna nods, and turns to follow him back to the boisterous crowd, the volume of which had risen in competition with themselves, until everyone was shouting about someone or another, nobody having a conversation.
Aran is trying to tell Akaashi about something he saw… on the farm? At the pride event? Who knew.
Bokuto was patting Atsumu on the shoulder and telling him there was nothing wrong with sleeping around, much to Atsumu’s chagrin, given his beet red face now, trying to shut Bo up.
Sakusa had slunk back further, looking at his phone, leaned against the wall, though his eyes kept straying from it, unable to resist watching the antics of everyone else.
Hinata and Kita were laughing loudly, reminiscing about the old high school game they’d played against each other, going back and forth about each other’s best receives.
Suna stops walking.
Osamu notices, glancing back at him.
In the dim light of the closed shop, it would be easy to look tired and miserable. But everyone is soaked in rainbow colours, and wearing that pride quite literally on their sleeves. Someone does something funny, Suna doesn’t catch it, but the entire group goes up in uproarious laughter, a hand banging on the table in joy.
A small number, but what had Hinata said?
A pillar. Just one or two.
He glances down at his brown hoodie, at the non-specific rainbow pin someone had stuck on him. For the first time in his life, he catches himself wishing it was the colours of the asexual flag, the one he’d seen a couple of girls dancing around with that afternoon.
It wouldn’t be so bad, to wear his heart like that, would it?
“Come on,” Osamu says, nodding to prompt him along. Osamu heads over, to set the food down, and now he’s being hailed as the hero of their night, joyful shouts as people lunge to dig into what is essentially a deconstructed onigiri - just rice and some basic fillings on the side.
No, it wouldn’t be so bad. At least, not here at this moment.
---
The bell above Onigiri Miya chimes as Atsumu comes pushing in, put off slightly by the bright yellow lighting, and the line-up to the counter. Eugh.
“I hate coming here when it’s open,” Atsumu says, glancing over to where Kita was paying more attention to his phone than where he was walking. Atsumu eyes up the case - which he notes now is printed with a soft pastel rainbow. Something he thinks at first is just general gay pride, before he realizes it’s also got a unicorn soaring over its arch. “I can’t believe I never noticed the unicorn thing before.”
“It’s closing in fifteen minutes, you’ll be fine,” Kita replies, lifting his head and tucking his phone away as he sees Aran waving to get their attention.
“Did you not notice my notebooks when we were back in school?”
“I won’t be fine. I’ll die, actually. I’m not waiting in line for my brother’s stupid rice. What was on your notebook?”
“We won’t. Just wait fifteen minutes and we’ll bring the leftovers out. Unicorn print.”
“I… I assumed that was something you got from a sister.”
“I don’t have a sister.”
“Well,” Atsumu grabs a chair as he passes it, dragging it across the ground and creating an annoying screech of a noise that gets everyone’s attention in the room. He ignores them. “Do you think you like unicorns because you’re gay, or are you gay because you like unicorns?”
“My interests have no bearing on my sexuality, and vice versa,” Kita says, before putting his attention on Aran, leaning over to greet him with a gentle kiss. “Hmm. I missed you this morning. How was work.”
“Good,” Aran replies, smiling up at the kiss. “Missed you too.”
“Yuck,” Atsumu says. “Get a room.”
“Fine,” Kita says, before simply turning and walking away.
“Wh-”
“He’s definitely just going to the bathroom,” Aran says quickly, waving it off. “Don’t worry.”
Atsumu hummed a response watching Kita go, to make sure he was indeed just slipping around the hall to the bathroom. One of the last customers of the evening in line makes eye contact with him, and Atsumu feels a cold seed in his stomach, at the disgusted curl of his lip. Part of him hopes it was just annoyance at the noise Atsumu had made, but he knew that wasn’t the case.
He takes a seat across from Aran. There’s something about the idea of specifically Aran and Kita being the targets of that sneer that sets him on edge. That’s… that’s Aran. And Kita. Nobody was allowed to look at them like that. Or even think about them, actually.
“Why do you look like you’re about to take a shit on the floor?” Aran says. “What’s wrong with your face.”
“Homophobe at ten o’clock,” Atsumu mutters. “He’s just staring.”
“Ignore him,” Aran replies. “I’m more than used to it.”
“But it’s not fucking fair,” Atsumu spits back, basically interrupting him in the process. “I don’t care if you can just ignore him, I hate him. I want him gone. I want him out of my brother’s shop. My very gay, very out brother’s shop.”
“He’s just going to order and leave,” Aran replies. “Relax. If you tried to fight every homophobe you’d have more than two black eyes.”
“What’s that mean?” Atsumu says. “Are they gonna punch my fucking spiritual third eye?”
“Probably,” Aran says. “I mean, look at you. You’re pretty spiritually disturbed.”
“Oh, so I have to fucking find my zen to sit in peace in a shop that’s supposed to be my place?”
Aran waves a hand to dismiss him, and both of their attentions are taken by the door bell chiming again, as they turn to see Suna coming in, hands in his pockets.
“Yo,” Aran calls.
“Hey,” Suna chirps back, heading over to take his usual seat.
“Hi,” Atsumu says.
“Oh, someone’s pissy,” Suna says, lifting a hand up to worsen his mood by ruffling his hair. Atsumu brings a stiff karate chop down on Suna’s wrist, eliciting a genuine yelp as he withdraws his hand.
“He’s just mad because one of Osamu’s customers was grossed out by me and Kita kissing,” Aran says.
“Ah,” Suna says, leaning back. “Well, good thing you’re not Mr. Rainbows today. Better to fly under the radar, I guess.”
“Is that what you think?” Aran says, seemingly thrilled someone had mentioned it, because it gives him the opportunity to swing his leg up to the table, yanking up his pant leg to show off the shiny rainbow socks he wore.
“My God, you’re relentless,” Atsumu says.
“I’m not going one day of Pride Month without a rainbow,” Aran says, very satisfied with himself it seems.
“Evidently,” Suna says, before leaning into Atsumu. “I’m gonna talk to Kita about getting some of this shit burned.”
“I think that’s a hate crime,” Atsumu mutters back.
“Hmm.”
Aran puts his leg down, and Atsumu is about to switch the topic to whether or not Kita was playing a really elaborate prank on him with the unicorn thing, when his ears prick to a very uncomfortable shout.
“Watch where you’re going, you --”
The scene had played out like so:
The homophobe - whom Atsumu had known he needed to keep an eye on, fuck Aran for convincing him otherwise - had been taking his order from the counter and turning around at the exact wrong time, to walk directly into Kita, who was returning from the narrow hallway to the bathroom.
Kita stumbles, normal proprietary slipping all at once as what is not a regular mishap turns to shouting. Turns to name calling. Atsumu will never know what Kita would have done in this situation, because multiple things happen at once, and not in slow motion. They’re all too fast for Atsumu to process.
Aran is already standing up, but they’re on the other side of the room.
Kita is opening his mouth, but before he can say anything, the man has grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and very roughly shoved to throw him out of the way, sending him back into the wall.
And then Osamu is over the counter. Atsumu doesn’t know if he was just really fast to get to the far end and around it, or if he jumped it, but before any other nasty words can slip from the man’s tongue, before Aran can cross the room, before Atsumu can think to even blink, Osamu has grabbed him by the jacket, turned him around, and slammed his fist across his jaw.
“Oh, shit!” Suna shouts, leaping up as well.
The man hits the ground.
“Not in my fucking restaurant!” Osamu is shouting.
The man is getting up.
Aran has finished crossing the room. Atsumu decides he should move too.
“Are you hurt?” he hears Aran ask, putting himself between him and the man as he wraps his arms around Kita. Kita doesn’t look too put off by it, trying to get some space to look around and see where Osamu was.
“I’m fine, it was a shove, not a knife attack-” Kita is saying.
“I’m gonna call the fucking cops! You can’t-”
“Sure, whatever!” Osamu shouts. “You can call them from outside the store doors, though, get the hell off my property.”
“Woah-”
Atsumu skirts around the man to reach Osamu’s side, putting a hand on his brother’s chest, since he’s suddenly very concerned this is about to become a much bigger assault case.
“Don’t touch me,” Osamu mutters, shaking him off.
There’s blood trickling into the stranger’s mouth, and he’s still spitting and blustering.
“I said-” Osamu repeats. “Get the hell out of my shop.”
There are more words said. Words that Atsumu doesn’t really want to seal into his memory, but he feels like they will anyway. He keeps a hand on Osamu’s shoulder, feeling his brother bristling under the skin, every muscle tensed.
The bell chimes about the door, as the man slams it behind him.
Atsumu relaxes slightly.
Osamu turns back to Kita.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, is your hand okay?” Kita says.
“I’m fine,” Osamu replies, and now Atsumu can feel Osamu’s tension leave him, as he turns to see the only other customers in the store - a pair of young girls, staring at him with terrified expressions. “We’re closing early,” Osamu calls, waving a hand. “If you don’t mind.”
“No, no, that’s fine,” one of the girls squeaks, and she grabs her friend to leap up, fleeing the shop. Osamu follows them to the glass doors, flipping the closed sign and locking it before heading back over to them.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Osamu says, suddenly breathless as he shakes his head.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Kita replies. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t taken worse, I can handle a few bad names.”
“What?” Atsumu says.
“It’s bullshit,” Aran says, still keeping an arm around Kita as he starts to lead him back towards the table they’d been at. Atsumu hesitates, then trails after them, casting a few glances back over his shoulder. “It’s fucking bullshit, these assholes should be in jail, and instead-”
“Instead they’re running the fucking place,” Atsumu mutters, moving his chair closer to where Kita was sitting before settling down.
“It’s just love,” Aran says, and Atsumu notices now that the hand Aran uses to pull Kita in by the waist is shaking. “What, kissing my boyfriend puts him in danger? And it’s just… accepted, it’s fine, Osamu’s the one who’s going to be charged for assault-”
Atsumu groans, putting his hands over his face.
“You can’t control everything that comes your way,” Kita murmurs. “You can just hold your head high, and-”
“I’m not exactly in the mood for a pep-talk,” Atsumu mumbles. “How are we supposed to live like this? This is why Hinata’s boyfriend can’t come out and celebrate Pride with us, this is why we’re… relegated to one goddamn month, then we have to shut-up the rest of the year-”
“It’s not like we can go back in time and prevent it,” Kita says. “So…”
“Why are you acting like you weren’t the one getting shoved around,” Atsumu says, dropping his hands. “You should be livid-”
“I am,” Kita says. “But… anger is valueless. Love is what connects us, love makes us who we are. Anger… corrupts that. I refuse to let that man make me feel like kissing my boyfriend was the wrong choice. I choose love, as I always have. And that’s that.”
“I disagree,” Aran says. “I’m gonna be pissed and love you all the harder for it.”
Kita just shrugs, unwilling to argue this point any further, and instead just reaches a hand out to gently squeeze Aran’s knee.
Atsumu tries to take both points to heart, taking a slow breath to relax, and turning to look over at where Suna had retaken his seat, sitting with his arms crossed, eyes focused on the table.
“Alright, dinner’s served!”
They all jump, lifting their heads up in surprise to see a now cheerful Osamu emerge with a thrown together tray of onigiri left over from the day’s service, sliding it into place on the table.
“Thank you,” Kita sings, reaching forward to take one closest to him. Aran does the same, and after a moment, Atsumu relents, reaching forward to take one of the triangles.
“I guess we all owe you more than one, for tonight,” Aran adds, teasingly. “Our hero.”
“Hey, I was just defending my shop,” Osamu says. “These four walls are for all types of love. Well… Mostly it's for love of food, but I make an exception for you two.”
Aran chuckles. “How kind of you.”
“Eh, I try,” Osamu replies.
“What about none?” Suna says, voice quick and breathless, before immediately looking like he regretted it, and eyes darting away as he wrapped his arms more tightly around himself. “Sorry, nevermind. This isn’t about me.”
“Why are you tweaking?” Atsumu says.
“No, it’s about Kita-”
“God, no, please,” Kita says. “Change the subject, the last thing I want is people treating me like a baby deer now.”
Suna nods slightly, and Atsumu doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man look so… distressed. Suna was one of those people with a perpetually laid back, lazy look to him. The idea that he’d wound himself up in his own thoughts seemed out of character.
“I, uhm… I just meant… Sorry, the thing… The thing Kita said, about love making us who we are, I just… I don’t think that’s true. Or if it is, I must be… nothing, because I don’t think I can feel it. Love, that is. I don’t think I feel… love. And I thought for a long time that I was just asexual, that one day I’d find another pretty asexual person and get married but I… I just… I don’t think I will. I won’t. I don’t think.”
Silence.
“Oh,” Atsumu says. “I mean…”
“The… the word is… is aromantic,” Suna says. “But I’m not sure how I feel about that, yet, thinking about it… sort of makes me want to cry, but…”
“It’s fine,” Aran says, hurriedly, when he sees Suna’s nerves take over. It seemed, and Atsumu could greatly understand the emotion, that even amongst people well within the community, coming out never quite got easier.
“I’m sorry,” Suna says. “It’s not about me. And it barely matters anyway. I just… the way everyone was talking… It feels a bit like I’m an imposter here. Because none of that really applies to me. I’ll... never have to face that kind of discrimination. And I kind of wish that I could. Which is horrible. I know it is-”
“Rintarou,” Kita says, softly, catching his attention again. It hurts Atsumu, right behind his ribcage, to see the red ring around Suna’s eyes. “The love that makes us human is not romantic,” Kita says. “It’s something far deeper, and more profound.”
“Yeah?” Suna says. “And what if I can’t feel that, either?”
Kita stares back at him for a moment, before sitting back slowly.
Osamu clears his throat, taking one of the onigiri from the table.
“Whatever you feel, you’re always welcome in these four walls,” Osamu says, though Atsumu notices he doesn’t really make eye contact with Suna before he turns to disappear again, under the guise of cleaning up for close.
“Maybe I’ll just head home,” Suna mumbles, making to stand up. Atsumu wants to say something - anything, really - but his tongue feels heavy. A glance over to Kita sees him looking no less miserable, and Aran’s attention is fixed on a nothing-point in the wall.
Anger festers.
“You don’t have to go,” Atsumu says. “I came here to steal a free dinner and that’s what I damn well intend to do. With friends.”
Suna stares back at him, uncertain.
“He’s right,” Kita says. “Maybe there are no good words to say about it, but there’s nothing more right than breaking bread with friends. If that still makes you happy, then please-” Kita beckons to the tray of neatly lined onigiri, a small smile gracing his lips. “Eat.”
Suna doesn’t smile in return, but does take his seat, and is sufficiently convinced to reach and take one of the pieces. Osamu made damn good onigiri - passing on it, even to make a point, was difficult.
There was probably no way to make this night feel good, again. But even the bad nights should be shared amongst friends. So it was a pretty alright place to be, in Atsumu’s opinion. Even if they’d all sit and mull over the unfairness of the situation, even if the conversation would inevitably swing back around to how furious they were, how bad the world made them feel. Well, it was damn good onigiri.
Atsumu takes another bite, nobody else really talking as they allow the moment to be just exactly what it was. Miserable, but together.
Red lights are suddenly flashing across the walls, reflecting off window glass and catching all their attention. Kita looks up in alarm - Atsumu turns around in his seat, swinging his arm over the back to take a look at the police cruiser who had pulled up outside.
“That son of a bitch actually called the cops,” Atsumu says.
Kita groans, putting his hands over his face.
“Well this is going to be fun,” Aran mutters.
At the same time, Suna says: “Fuck you all for convincing me to stay here.”
“Hey, ‘Samu!” Atsumu shouts, looking back towards the kitchen.
---
“You’ve got five other players on the court, use them!” their coach is shouting, a heavy confidence in his tone. “Those five people are your lifeline, your walls, your foundation, you have to trust them to have your back when the ball goes askew and everything looks fucked. And in turn, you need to move your goddamn feet! Run, not because you care, but because all of them trusted you. You’re all they’ve got out there.”
Atsumu pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya the second it closes, almost walking direction into Osamu, who had been coming down to flip the sign and lock it.
“Yo,” Atsumu says, the bell jingling above his head.
“Yeah, yo,” Osamu replies, eyes doing a sweep down of his brother. “The hell are you wearing?”
Atsumu steps aside, dramatically brushing down his disgustingly psychedelic rainbow hoodie.
“What, this little old thing? Just something I had in the closet.”
“...nope,” Osamu says. “I refuse to believe that. Try again.”
“Ah, maybe this last month got to me. I’m… privileged enough to not be in fear of getting my shit rocked by a homophobe every day, but… you know, it’s the last day of pride month. May as well rep the gay while I can. Or… half gay. I couldn’t find anything in bisexual colours.”
“Uh-huh,” Osamu says, locking the door and saying: “Well, take a seat then. Food will be up shortly.”
“Thank you,” Atsumu says, turning around to head over to their usual spot, dragging one of the chairs across the floor in the process.
“And stop doin’ that!” Osamu shouts at him. “You’re scratching up my floors!”
Muttering under his breath, Atsumu carries the chair the last few feet, setting it down dramatically.
He already has three sets of eyes on him.
Kita and Suna with their mutually characteristic judgement. Aran, delighted.
“Hell yes, man, that’s what I’m talking about,” Aran says, lifting his arm up for a high-five. Atsumu somewhat reluctantly gives it to him, before taking a seat.
“I admit, gaudy as it is, I do love feeling like a flamboyant spring flower,” Atsumu says. “You should all try it sometime.”
“No thanks,” Suna replies.
“I’m quite good with my current wardrobe,” Kita agrees.
Atsumu grins, and it’s only a moment later that Osamu appears behind him, setting down the usual tray of assorted, left-over prepared goods.
“Ah, thank you,” Aran says, reaching across the table for one. Atsumu does the same, and several pieces are taken right away, everyone eager to eat.
“You know what I was thinking about today?” Atsumu says, around a mouthful of rice, one hand lifting to point up at Osamu. “That volleyball coach we had in middle school. The one that always wore that koala shirt.”
Osamu frowns. “Why were you thinking about him?”
“I dunno,” Atsumu says. “Just popped into my head this morning. He used to yell at me a lot because I used to always try and be the star, and he was very teamwork focused.”
“Used to?” Suna says.
“Is that the one that made you cry calling you a dunce?” Aran asks.
“No, that was a different one.”
“I agree with Suna,” Osamu says. “Used to seems generous. You’re still a spotlight hogging asshole.”
“Okay, rude,” Atsumu says. “I came in here to reminisce, and you’re bullying me. During pride month.”
“Well if you’re going to reminisce, pick something everyone was there for,” Osamu says.
“Fine,” Atsumu complains, but at the same moment his phone buzzes, and he’s pulling it out to check. He’s aware that Osamu is still over his shoulder, so as he gets a glimpse of the name on the notification, he turns his phone around to stop any snooping.
He sees Osamu narrow his eyes immediately. Shit. Should have been smarter about that, Osamu was always quick to call his bullshit.
“Nothing important,” Atsumu says, as pleasantly as he can.
“Uh-huh,” Osamu replies, pulling away from him to go get a chair himself. Atsumu takes the opportunity when he’s gone to read the message properly.
Kiyoomi: What about tomorrow night, if you’re busy today?
Atsumu tries to tap through a quick message, as he hears Aran beginning to explain the story of how an angry old coach made him cry, but is almost immediately interrupted.
“Oh, I’m flattered,” Osamu says, having appeared like a ghost over his shoulder. He must have picked up his chair. Atsumu’s skin prickles at his voice, and he folds his phone flat against his chest. “I can’t believe you picked us over a booty call.”
“That’s not what that was!” he says, far too defensively, immediately.
The interaction, though, was silenced Aran’s rather dull story, and now three sets of eyes are on him.
“Please, you’re making plans for tomorrow night,” Osamu says. “You’re you, what else could it be? A date?”
“I am not that much of a whore!” Atsumu replies, defensively. “Maybe it is a date, huh? Ever think about that?”
This makes Osamu laugh, a disbelieving snort to emphasize his complete lack of faith in the idea that his brother would ever have a real date.
“Sure, whatever,” Osamu says, patting his brother’s hair condescendingly, before sitting down. “And I’m serving the Emperor tofu salad on a boat.”
“What an oddly specific turn of phrase,” Kita murmurs.
“Is it a date?” Aran asks, raising an eye. He was never one to lose the scent of blood in the water, it seemed.
“It…” In his own peripheral vision, Atsumu can see the gay ass all fuck rainbow hoodie he’s wearing. He can see Aran’s no less garish rainbow button-down, returning for a swan song appearance. What does he do, admit that he’s fallen in love? Admit that he’s spent the better part of three months going slow as a snail for a guy he actually adored? Even though he always claimed he was a one-night only kind of man, who wouldn’t wait for anything?
His eyes catch the clean of light across a metal band. An out! An excuse! A topic change!
Atsumu points across at where Kita was reaching for his phone, which had been set on the table previously.
“Kita’s wearing an engagement ring!” he shouts.
“No I’m not, answer the damn question,” Kita says, tapping on his phone screen to check the time.
Well, that didn’t work.
“Shit,” Atsumu says.
“Come on,” Osamu says, reaching over to grab his shoulder, shaking him playfully. “You’re the one who brought up dating. Who’s this Kiyoomi you’ve got asking about your evening plans?”
Immediately, not even giving Atsumu a chance to speak, Aran says: “Wait - Sakusa?”
“Sakusa,” Suna agrees.
“Wait, shit, really?” Osamu says. “Are you banging one of your teammate? That’s crazy, dude-”
“Stop - stop talking about-” Atsumu groans, putting his hands over his face, leaning forward and hoping he could get swallowed by the stupid scratched floor beneath him. “I’m not banging him - Well-” he pauses to think about it for a moment, before sitting up straighter, trying to summon his usual confidence with a slow intake of breath. “Okay, maybe, but - I… it’s… more than that. We’ve been… seeing each other. For… a while. You could say.”
“Could say, or should say?” Kita says, at the same time Aran has started to grin.
“Should say,” Atsumu mumbles back. “And I’m not that much of a whore that it’s so unbelievable, is it?”
“Entirely unbelievable,” Suna says.
“I don’t believe you,” Osamu agrees, snickering. “But… I’ll entertain it for a night. You’ve got a boyfriend?”
“We haven’t… labelled it,” Atsumu says. “It sort of just… started. And Sakusa doesn’t… you know, we’re kinda opposites, so he’s not looking for a flashfire of a relationship. So we’ve been… moving slow. It started in… March? Mid-March.”
Aran whistles, as if impressed. “That’s three months. Unless you’re also seeing any other people, that’s a relationship.”
Kita leans forward, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, to look over at Atsumu with a look bordering fondness.
It wigs him out. He’d like to not be looked at like that, actually.
God this was humiliating.
Feelings.
Love.
Whatever.
“It’s… whatever it is,” Atsumu says. “Like I said, we’re… going really slow. I don’t want to scare him away, which… you lot will probably do for me, knowing what you’re like,” he mutters, crossing his arms.
This makes Osamu laugh, and Kita rolls his eyes slightly, before saying:
“Well, I think it’s sweet. The fact that someone managed to give you a reason to slow down… That you’re willing to take it slow at all. It’s a good look on you.”
Atsumu swallows, feeling his face heat up. “Thanks.”
“So you two were together when we went to Pride?” Aran says.
“Enough about me,” Atsumu says, swatting at him.
“Yeah, enough, let’s circle back around to this ring,” Osamu agrees, leaning on the table to nod to Kita. “You’re not a jewelry person. If not an engagement ring, then what?”
Kita seems surprised by the attention, holding his hand out as if to show off the rather simply looking silver ring. “Not an engagement ring, for obvious reasons,” Kita replies. “But… an… equivalent.”
“An equivalent?” Suna says, skeptically.
“It’s a promise ring,” Kita says. “For, you know. If it’s ever legalized.”
“So it is an engagement ring,” Atsumu hisses, annoyed. “I knew it.”
“I was not letting you get out of telling the truth,” Kita says.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Osamu asks.
“Because it wasn’t for you,” Aran says. “It’s for us. I gave up my Canadian citizenship a few years ago, to play at the Olympics. Which means we can’t just go back and get married there anymore, which had been the plan, but…”
“It’s something to hope for,” Kita says, before correcting himself and saying: “To fight for, I mean.”
“Well, I think it’s adorable,” Osamu says. “You two are… engaged, regardless of what you say. Atsumu’s got a boyfriend, regardless of what he says… Look at us. Just a group of gays refusing labels. I can’t think of anything more appropriate.”
This makes Aran laugh, and Atsumu shakes his head.
“Next time he’s around, you should invite Sakusa,” Kita says, glancing over to Atsumu. “He’s fun, I wouldn’t mind getting to see him more.”
“Really?” Atsumu says. “That wouldn’t be weird?”
“Why would it be weird?” Osamu asks, reaching to take another of the remaining onigiri.
“Well, this… you know, this has always been our tradition, our place,” Atsumu says. “Us Inarizaki kids. Won’t it… ruin it? If I bring someone new in?”
“No,” Osamu says, immediately. “Not if he matters to you.”
“There’s no point in building a community if we’re just going to lock the doors,” Kita agrees.
“Okay,” Atsumu says. “I’ll… let him know the door is open, if he wants it. I don’t know if he will, though…”
“Trust me,” Aran says. “It doesn’t take longer than three months to know you’re an asshole, if he was going to be scared off, he would have been.”
Atsumu almost smiles.
“Okay. Now, enough about me, enough about all of that, I didn’t come here to get therapized - someone change the subject.”
“Anyone talk to Akagi recently?”
“Yeah - why?”
“I was messaging him last night, he’s moving across town, got a new job at a fancier school.”
“Oh, awesome. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Heads up?”
“To not answer his texts for the next month, I am not helping anyone move.”
---
They all filter out, as the hour ticks closer to midnight. Kita and Aran are the first to go, fingers linked loosely together as they call a goodbye, making plans over their shoulders to see them all before the next week came about. The door swings shut behind them, and shortly afterwards Atsumu is standing up and putting his coat on.
No matter what he said, the rainbows looked good on him. Osamu tries to find the metaphor in it, but he’s not sure where to start. Colour, joy, finding someone. Finding something. Something to run for.
He promises to talk to them tomorrow, and heads out into the late night air.
Suna calls a goodbye while Osamu is cleaning up, wiping down their used table. He calls the same goodbye over his shoulder, and hears the bell jingle as the door shuts.
He puts his towel away, dumps the mop water, watches the clock tick closer to midnight.
July 1st, just around the corner.
The end of pride month, the end of Aran’s constant barrage of rainbow clothing.
Osamu had known he was gay most of his life - he had been fine with it, most of the time. But there was something really nice, about the way it got easier, with the rainbows and the glitter and the flags. Like a shield against his own anxiety.
He tries to shake his head out. He tries to get over the lingering feeling of loss. Three minutes to midnight.
He heads out, thinking about marriage and children. Thinking about his brother, thinking about volleyball. About running, not for your sake, but for your team’s.
He shuts the shop door behind him, and jumps in surprise to find his entrance path not empty. Sat on the ground, back to his door, is Suna.
“Yo, not going home?” Osamu calls, heading over to him.
Suna tilts his head slightly.
“Ah. Sorry,” he says.
Osamu frowns, then slowly bends down to sit beside him. A glance to his side shows that Suna is running his thumbs over the glossy rainbow pin he had gotten some weeks ago, that he’d claimed to find stupid. That Osamu would have assumed he’d have thrown away.
“Hey, you kept the gay pin,” Osamu says.
Suna hands it over to him.
“Oh, gay pin’s for me?” Osamu laughs, reaching to take it.
“Makes more sense,” Suna says, voice soft.
Osamu hesitates, recognizing the heavy tone in his voice. The same one he’d carried this whole month, basically from the moment Aran had come in in that shirt.
“It makes more sense?” Osamu prompts, looking for anything he could say that would incite Suna to admit to whatever he was thinking. Suna doesn’t take the bait right away, though, he looks away instead, and pretends the fact that he was sitting on the sidewalk was coincidental to the rest of the world.
Unbeknownst to either of them, the clock strikes midnight. Pride month is over.
“It doesn’t feel like I should wear it,” Suna says. “It doesn’t feel like I should get any of it.”
“...rainbows?”
Suna shakes his head, before lifting a hand up to his face, pinching between his eyes. For a second, Osamu thinks he’s just tired and stressed, before suddenly realizing that Suna was beginning to tremble, and that action had intended to stuff down entire sobs.
“Woah-”
Osamu tries to put an arm around him, but Suna’s face scrunches up, and he shifts away, uncomfortable. Osamu takes his limbs back, holding the rainbow pin to his chest.
“Rin-” he starts, wishing beyond measure there was something productive for him to say.
“I don’t want to be this way,” Suna manages to gasp after a moment, fingers wet from trying to hold back the tears. “Even fucking Atsumu is able to fall in love, and what? What am I supposed to be proud about? Proud about the fact that every time you look at me I feel sick? Proud of wanting to be alone, proud of knowing that everyone I meet is going to move on?”
“I’m not going to move on,” Osamu tries, but he knows it’s a thin response.
“I know, and that’s worse!” Suna sobs. “I can’t believe I’m even here, this isn’t fair to you. It’s not fair to want you to love me knowing I’d hate it if you did, it’s not fair to fear the day you find someone who can give you what you want while pushing you away I know that. You should move on, but the moment you do, what am I going to be left with?”
Osamu shakes his head slightly, taking a long, slow moment to think, feeling the cool air settle around him.
“You have given me what I want,” Osamu says, which prompts Suna to lift his head.
“I’m never going to be your boyfriend,” Suna replies, the words almost harsh. Osamu’s first instinct is embarrassment, to have been caught, though reasonable he’d known Suna hadn’t gone so many years without realizing how he felt.
“I don’t want that,” Osamu says, and although it’s a little bit of a lie, he means it.
“You don’t?” Suna replies, skeptically, sniffing slightly as he manages to hold back another wave of tears.
“No.”
“What do you want, then?”
“You,” Osamu replies.
“But I can’t love you like you want,” Suna whispers back.
“Whoever you are is what I want. If that’s a best friend, then that’s what you are. I can’t imagine being happy with anyone that’s not you, and if you’re not a boyfriend, then-” Osamu throws his hands up. “Then that’s not what I want. I want you. I’ve wanted you since we were fifteen. I’ve wanted you since you were bisexual. I’ll want you in ten years, exactly who you are. You. You. You-” he waves his hands around Suna’s face. “Do you get that? I’m not pining after some fantasy future. I’ve got the real you here, why would I do that?”
Suna lifts a hand to wipe his face, looking a little disgruntled by his own mess. “Really?”
“Yes. If you’re willing to stay, I’m willing to stay. We can do that together, apart, in separate beds, in separate houses. As long as you keep coming by my shop, I’ll be waiting for you.”
Suna almost manages a smile, before sniffing again and looking down to his hands.
“You’re right,” Osamu says, after a second, holding the rainbow pin out to him. “It would be blind of me to say you’re exactly like the rest of us. That you’re gay in your own right - you don’t claim it, so why would I make you. But the rainbow is for everyone. It’s not about… sex or kissing or falling in love. It’s about pride. In whatever the hell you are. No matter how different that person is.”
Suna reaches to take the rainbow pin back.
---
At home, Kita and Aran fall into bed together, laughing and trading soft kisses, back and forth under the covers, high school sweethearts waiting for the world to catch up.
---
At home, Atsumu puts his phone to his ear, and looks at the moon as he listens to Sakusa talking about the evening he’s had, about their plans for the next day. About everything they might get to do together.
---
At home, Hinata takes a seat beside Kageyama, sliding in against his side, one hand holding a drink, as he asks about what game Kageyama was reviewing. They’ll probably watch until the sun comes up.
---
At home, Bokuto lays with Akaashi asleep on his shoulder, staring up at the ceiling and imagining the rest of the year, their month of celebration put behind them, the rest of the days stretched out before.
---
At Onigiri Miya, Suna sniffs, and stands up, wiping at his eye, before turning around slowly, to step up towards the glass doors of the shop. He slips half into the bushes along its exterior, to reach over, and balance the pin on the window ledge, a small icon in the corner of the glass.
Osamu raises his eye in question, as Suna picks his way back over to him, stuffing his hands into his pockets against the cold.
“In case there’s anyone else that needs to know,” Suna says, passing him.
“Needs to know what?”
“That they’re safe, in these four walls,” he replies, and Osamu smiles, nodding and agree, taking one look back at the shop he’s built from the ground up. No legacy, no family business, no inheritance. Just his own hands, his dream, and his pride.
Osamu walks Suna home. They don’t hold hands, and it’s exactly what they want.