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Atsumu skipped class.
Again.
The lecture ended forty minutes ago. He has three missed calls from Osamu, one email from a professor, and exactly zero intentions of attending tomorrow’s class either.
Instead, he is currently sitting on the floor of Hinata Shouyou’s cheap apartment eating instant noodles straight from the pot.
“Y’know,” Atsumu says, “if ya keep leaving the door unlocked one of these days yer gonna get murdered.”
Shouyou doesn’t even look up from where he is filling out yet another part-time job application.
“Yeah.”
“That’s all?”
“Yeah.”
“Ya don’t care?”
“If someone wants to rob me they’re gonna be disappointed.”
“…”
“I have 1,200 yen.”
“Lucky. I only have 800.”
Atsumu slurps another mouthful of noodles.
Neither of them says anything when Atsumu finally gets to his feet. He leaves the pot on the floor and grabs a towel sprawled on the chair.
“You’re showering now?”
It’s the first thing Shouyou has said in five minutes.
“Yeah. Ya won’t let me on the bed if I’m stinky.”
Shouyou hums in agreement.
“I’m gonna eat then.”
He takes the pot from the floor and heads for the sink.
“Ya ain’t gonna wash that first?”
“Too much work.”
Atsumu hums and heads for the bathroom.
The funny thing is, Atsumu hadn’t even known Hinata Shouyou until a few months ago.
Atsumu curses himself silently.
Because somehow, after twenty-two years of life, he has once again managed to make the worst possible decision.
This time, it was buying a fancy coffee from a café near campus.
It was supposed to make him feel better after bombing yet another quiz.
Instead, it just gave him a new regret.
He stares at the drink for a moment after the orange-haired cashier hands it over.
“Sir, is there something wrong with your order?”
The question snaps him out of his thoughts.
“No. Thank you.”
He takes the coffee and walks out of the café, sipping it slowly as he makes his way down the street.
Fuck.
It tastes exactly like every other coffee he’s ever had, except this one costs him four meals of instant noodles and a significant portion of his dignity.
At least he doesn’t have class tomorrow.
He can sleep through the morning before heading to work.
Unfortunately, that still leaves tonight’s shift.
Which means several hours of dealing with drunkards, occasional gangsters, and whatever other bullshit the universe decides to throw at him before dawn.
As it turns out, the universe has a rather loose definition of bullshit.
Around eleven-thirty, the automatic doors slide open.
Atsumu looks up.
And immediately recognises the customer.
“Yer the cashier.”
The words leave Atsumu’s mouth before the orange-haired guy even puts his basket on the counter.
The guy blinks.
“You’re the one who bought our most expensive drink.”
“Yeah, no need to remind me.”
Atsumu starts scanning the items.
“That’ll be 1,284 yen.”
“That’s not what I counted before.”
“Ya gotta compensate me for selling that coffee.”
The guy frowns.
“Sounds like a you problem.”
Atsumu exhales.
“Fine. 1,250 yen.”
The guy digs into his pocket and starts pulling out coins.
A lot of coins.
Atsumu watches him count them one by one.
Great.
Another broke college student.
Though unlike Atsumu, this one apparently has enough self-control to calculate his purchases before getting to the register.
Then again, it’s not like Atsumu is ever going to see him again.
Or so he thinks.
The universe, apparently, seems to enjoy making fun of him.
Because why is the same guy who somehow convinced—he didn’t—him to buy that stupidly expensive coffee is sitting in his university cafeteria?
And, as usual, Atsumu’s mouth moves before his brain catches up.
“Wait, ya go here?”
The guy looks up from his lunch.
He blinks.
“You’re a student?”
Somehow, that sounds even more surprised than Atsumu does.
“Yeah. How old d’ya think I am?”
“I dunno. Twenty-six?”
Atsumu stares at him.
“Twenty-six?”
“You have the energy of someone who files taxes.”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“...Sorry.”
Then, for some weird reason, they keep running into each other.
Like Atsumu accidentally unlocked a new character into his life.
Or maybe it’s deliberate.
“There’s other convenience stores around here, y’know,” Atsumu says as he rings up the orange-haired guy's purchases.
“This is the only one open at this hour.”
“That’s bullshit.”
The guy blinks.
“Well... let’s say I still kinda feel bad for selling you that coffee. If more people buy stuff during your shift, you might get a raise. Maybe.”
“Pray for me, ’cause the boss ain’t that generous.”
The guy hums as he watches Atsumu finish scanning his items.
“That’ll be 1,210 yen.”
“Exactly what I counted.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes.
“Just pay up.”
“You know,” the guy says as he hands over the money, “I think you should smile more.”
“Why?”
“The cashier is the face of the shop.”
Atsumu exhales.
“The only people coming here at this hour are either drunkards or gangsters. Ain’t no way I’m smiling at someone threatening to kill me.”
“I’m here though.”
“Yer the anomaly.”
Then, the next encounter is definitely deliberate.
Because Atsumu is the one deciding to walks into that very same café.
“The cheapest one, please.”
“Being responsible with money now?”
“No. I’m just broke as fuck.”
“Right.”
Atsumu hands over the money and watch him prepare his drink.
“By the way, I haven’t got your name yet.”
“I should be the one asking. All of us have name tags here. Not like you.”
It’s only then that Atsumu notices the name tag pinned to his apron.
Hinata.
“Atsumu. Miya Atsumu.”
The answer comes without hesitation.
Because somewhere along the way, this random cashier stopped feeling like a stranger.
“I gave ya my first name. What’s yours?”
“Sure. Here’s your order.”
The guy smiles as he hands over the drink.
Then points at the growing line behind Atsumu.
“Next one, please.”
“Hey, wait—”
Atsumu gets shoved aside by the next customer.
He walks toward the exit with a bruised ego and a coffee he already regrets buying.
Then something slips from between his fingers.
A small piece of paper.
Atsumu frowns.
On it, written in hurried handwriting.
Hinata Shouyou
090-XXXX-XXXX
Atsumu immediately looks back at the counter.
Shouyou is helping another customer.
Doesn’t even glance his way.
Then, for half a second, their eyes meet.
Shouyou jerks his chin toward the paper.
Call me.
Atsumu nearly drops the coffee.
Later that night, Atsumu spends fifteen minutes staring at his phone before finally typing.
Atsumu
is this the cashier?
The reply comes almost immediately.
Shouyou
is this the customer?
Atsumu laughs.
And somehow, that’s how everything starts.
Atsumu’s shower breaks down.
Shit.
Of course something like this would happen.
He should’ve seen it coming the moment he signed the lease for this miserable excuse of an apartment.
Yet all he can do is stare at the broken showerhead and curse the universe after his landlord informs him it won’t be fixed for another week.
Great.
As if being broke, depressed, and losing a long-term battle against higher education wasn’t enough.
Now he has to survive a week without a shower.
He could stay at Osamu’s.
But absolutely not.
Besides, he doesn’t exactly have a lot of people he can rely on.
Except—
“Atsumu-san, why are you calling—”
“My shower broke down.”
Silence.
Atsumu blinks.
Right.
He probably should’ve started with hello.
“How long until it gets fixed?” Shouyou asks.
“About a week.”
“Wanna stay at my place?”
Atsumu doesn’t answer immediately.
Because somehow, somewhere between the expensive coffee and the late-night convenience store visits, Hinata Shouyou has stopped being a random cashier.
“Atsumu-san?”
“...Yeah.”
Shouyou hums.
“Okay.”
Atsumu hangs up.
Then stares at his phone.
Atsumu doesn’t remember completing the side quest required to unlock this level of friendship.
Spending a week at Shouyou’s place sounds fine at first.
Until he sees the apartment.
Somehow, against all odds, it looks even more miserable than his.
“How the hell do ya live here?”
“Live where?”
“This shoebox.”
“It’s not that small.”
“I can touch both walls.”
“Yeah, but look.”
Shouyou slides open the window.
“I can see a tree.”
He says it proudly, as if he’s just won a Nobel Prize instead of pointing out basic vegetation.
Atsumu stares at him.
Then at the tree outside.
It is, admittedly, a decent tree.
“...I’m not having this conversation.”
There’s so much one can learn about a person beyond calls and text messages.
For example, Shouyou is unbearably a morning person. He wakes up at six even on days he doesn’t have class and somehow has enough energy to greet the morning like it’s a personal friend.
Second, he has a habit of staring at things.
Walls.
Ceilings.
The tree outside his window.
Sometimes for so long that Atsumu starts wondering if he accidentally broke in the middle of a conversation.
And third—
For some reason, Shouyou seems perfectly comfortable telling Atsumu things people usually keep to themselves.
Not big things.
Just little things that slip out naturally between shared meals and late-night conversations.
The kind that slowly convince Atsumu that maybe the guy is just as mentally fucked as he is.
Like how he doesn’t really talk to his family much.
How sometimes he spends hours lying awake wondering what exactly he’s supposed to do with the rest of his life.
The first time it happens, Atsumu just stares at him.
“...Ya know that’s kinda fucked up, right?”
Shouyou blinks.
“Which part?”
“The fact that ya said all that and don’t know which part I’m talking about.”
Shouyou considers it.
Then shrugs.
“Fair.”
Atsumu sighs.
Great.
Maybe it’s not only Atsumu who’s being forced to learn things.
Shouyou too.
Because apparently Atsumu is absolute garbage at pretending to be sane.
Or maybe the universe just enjoys fucking with him.
It starts when Osamu finally calls.
Atsumu ignores it three times before Shouyou looks genuinely fed up.
“If you’re not gonna pick up, just block whoever it is.”
Which is, Atsumu thinks, not a normal response to seeing someone repeatedly ignore a saved contact.
Then the phone rings again.
“Fine.”
Atsumu answers.
“What?”
Shouyou can only make out bits and pieces from where he’s sitting.
“I’m at yer apartment. Where are ya?”
“My shower broke down.”
“Yer not crashing somewhere concerning just because ya won’t let yer stupid pride go and come back home?”
“That ain’t my home. That’s yer home. Yer the only one living there.”
“Where are ya?”
“I’m at a friend’s. Stop nagging me.”
A pause.
Then—
“Ya have friends?”
“Of course I have friends!”
Atsumu hangs up immediately.
Shouyou stares at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Shouyou hums.
“Who was it?”
Atsumu doesn’t answer right away.
“…My brother.”
Shouyou blinks.
“You never told me you have a brother.”
“It’s not that important.”
The look Shouyou gives him suggests that having a whole brother is, in fact, fairly important.
Atsumu exhales.
“We’re not exactly on good terms.”
“Oh.”
“Well, we used to be, but...” Atsumu rubs the back of his neck. “Shit. Maybe yer right. This is a me problem.”
“I haven’t even said anything.”
“Yeah, but ya said that at our second meeting. At my shift.”
“That was an entirely different context.”
“Yes, but it applies here too.”
Shouyou considers that for a moment before shrugging. Unfortunately, Atsumu knows exactly what that shrug means.
Neither of them says anything for a while. Then, because Atsumu can’t stand the silence any longer, he finally speaks.
“He got a job offer.”
Shouyou looks up.
“Your brother?”
“Yeah. He’s graduating on time too.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not.”
“Because of the class?”
“Classes.”
“Plural?”
“Don’t make that face.”
“I’m not making a face.”
“Yer making a face.”
Shouyou immediately stops making the face. It doesn’t help.
Atsumu sighs and leans back against the wall.
“He knows what he’s doing after graduation. Everyone’s happy for him. Which, fair enough, I am too. But then suddenly every conversation turns into why I ain’t doing the same thing.”
Shouyou hums.
Atsumu hates that hum. It’s the hum of someone listening.
“Ya know what’s the worst part?”
“What?”
“I don’t even disagree with them.”
The words come out before he can stop them.
“He worked harder. Made better choices. Didn’t spend half his university life getting into arguments with professors.”
“You argue with professors?”
“That’s not the point.”
Shouyou snorts.
Atsumu throws a pillow at him. It misses completely.
“The point is, I know I’m the screw-up twin. I don’t need a reminder every time I pick up the phone.”
For a moment, the room falls quiet.
Then Shouyou speaks.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t know your brother.”
Atsumu blinks.
“What?”
“I only know you.”
“Congratulations.”
“Yeah.”
Shouyou nods.
“That’s why I let you stay here instead of him.”
Atsumu stares.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Sure it does.”
“No it doesn’t.”
Shouyou shrugs.
Atsumu is beginning to suspect the guy uses shrugs to avoid explaining himself. Somehow, despite everything, the knot in his chest feels a little lighter than before.
Then Shouyou reaches down, picks up the pillow Atsumu threw at him earlier, and walks back to the bed.
His bed.
Currently occupied by Atsumu as if he pays rent here.
“Hey.”
Ignoring him completely, Shouyou drops the pillow onto the mattress before throwing himself into the stupidly small space left beside Atsumu.
“Now, let’s sleep. I remember you said you have a quiz tomorrow morning. You’re not gonna add another failed class to the collection, right?”
“Like yer not on the verge of failing too.”
“I’ve only failed one class.”
“That ain’t making it better.”
“You’re worse.”
“I am.”
Satisfied by the admission, Shouyou pulls the blanket up to his shoulders.
Atsumu immediately steals half of it.
“Hey.”
“Goodnight.”
“That’s my blanket.”
“Goodnight.”
Neither of them knows who falls asleep first after a long battle of complaints, insults, and increasingly weak attempts to get the other to shut up.
Atsumu’s shower finally gets fixed after a week and three extra days.
Which means he’s back in his apartment.
Back to the peeling wallpaper.
Back to the questionable plumbing.
Back to living alone.
Not that he moved out completely. Nearly half his stuff is still at Shouyou’s place simply because he’s too lazy to pack everything up and bring it back.
Besides, it’s not much.
Most of his belongings are still here.
The apartment looks exactly the same as it did before the shower incident.
So why does it feel worse?
Atsumu drops his bag near the door and looks around.
The room is quiet.
No one is arguing with him over blanket ownership.
No one is making instant noodles at midnight.
No one is staring at a tree like it's the eighth wonder of the world.
Just him.
And for the first time since moving in, the apartment feels less like a place to live and more like a place to store his things.
“...Shit.”
Atsumu hates when the universe proves a point.
The next day, he finds Shouyou waving at him from across the cafeteria.
Which is new.
For one thing, they never did that during the two months they’ve known each other. The first few weeks are understandable—they hadn’t even exchanged names yet. But even after that, even after phone calls and late-night conversations and an entire week of living together, they somehow kept pretending not to know each other at university.
Atsumu accepted it a little too easily.
After all, who would willingly announce they’re friends with someone as miserable as him when they already have perfectly decent friends?
Another thing Atsumu has learned about Shouyou is that he’s significantly better at pretending to be sane. Atsumu doubts any of the people sitting around him right now know that this guy can spend hours staring at a wall, a ceiling, or a tree without getting bored.
So seeing Shouyou wave him over is new.
Seeing him pat the empty seat beside him is even newer.
When was the last time Atsumu felt wanted somewhere?
Before he can think too hard about it, he walks over and drops his lunch tray onto the table.
“I thought ya wanted to keep our relationship a secret.”
Shouyou frowns.
“You’re the one who kept ignoring me.”
“I didn’t—”
Atsumu pauses.
“...Shit. Maybe I did.”
“You did.”
“Sorry. I’m kinda used to not having friends.”
Shouyou stares at him.
“Your life is awful.”
“Yer no better.”
“At least I have friends.”
Atsumu opens his mouth.
Then closes it again.
Unfortunately, Shouyou has a point.
Atsumu walks out of the classroom looking like he’s on his way to his execution.
At this point, he’s pretty sure his professor has it out for him personally. Like the universe assigned every lecturer a side quest to make Miya Atsumu’s life slightly more miserable than necessary.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. He’s broke as fuck, so there’s not even the option of buying something nice to feel better. Not that it would help anyway. He’d just regret it later.
Then he sees Shouyou at the end of the hallway.
That should be enough.
It usually is.
Maybe talking to Shouyou would make him feel better.
No—actually.
He knows it will.
He always does.
But before he can walk over, Atsumu notices someone already standing near him. Then another. And another.
Some friend of Shouyou’s, probably. They’re talking. Laughing. Shouyou looks relaxed in a way Atsumu’s never fully understood but has gotten used to seeing.
Atsumu slows down.
He waits.
Doesn’t want to interrupt. What if he walks over and the friend immediately leaves? That would be worse somehow. Like breaking something without meaning to.
So he stays where he is.
But people keep coming.
Now there are five of them around Shouyou, crowding the space like he’s the center of something.
Atsumu exhales.
Maybe he should just leave.
It would be easier. Normal, even. What he usually does.
He turns slightly, already half-deciding to go.
But before he can take a step, Shouyou looks up.
Their eyes meet.
Then Shouyou raises a hand and waves.
And calls his name.
“Atsumu-san!”
Just like that, he breaks away from the group and walks toward him.
Atsumu blinks when he stops in front of him.
“Wanna have lunch together?”
For a moment, Atsumu just looks at him.
Then at the group behind him.
Then back at Shouyou.
“…Sure.”
And only after he says it does it hit him.
Not the lunch.
Not the plan.
But the fact that Shouyou didn’t even hesitate to leave people behind.
For him.
And that thought sits in his chest like something he doesn’t know how to name yet.
Atsumu oversleeps again.
Despite setting six alarms, he somehow manages to sleep through every single one of them.
In his defense, the universe seems particularly committed to screwing him over lately.
At two in the morning, he had to deal with a violent drunkard who decided the convenience store was the perfect place to have a breakdown.
Atsumu would’ve preferred getting yelled at.
Instead, the guy started throwing things.
Then he started throwing punches.
One of them landed squarely on Atsumu’s face hard enough to leave him dizzy and bleeding from the nose.
After that, the only thing Atsumu managed to do was call the police.
The drunkard got arrested.
The store got trashed.
Atsumu got a swollen jaw and a pounding headache.
All things considered, he supposes it could’ve gone worse. At least his stingy boss didn't make him pay for the damages.
That would’ve been excessive even by his standards.
After all, Atsumu doubts even a man possessed by the devil would look at a part-time worker with a bleeding nose and a fresh bruise on his jaw and decide that he’s somehow responsible for the situation.
Atsumu glances at the time on his phone.
Class should be ending in five minutes.
He closes his eyes for a moment before his phone suddenly rings.
Shouyou.
Atsumu picks up immediately, but before he can say anything—
“I skipped class.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
This should be the third class Shouyou has skipped this week. But instead of sounding concerned, Atsumu only says,
“Nice. Me too.”
Shouyou hums.
“Where are ya now?” Atsumu asks.
“My place.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Sure. I left the door unlocked.”
Atsumu blinks.
“Someone might break in.”
“Yeah. That someone is usually you.”
Fair enough.
When Atsumu gets there, he finds Shouyou starfished on the floor.
“Why are ya on the ground?”
“The ceiling is nice.”
Atsumu looks up. The ceiling appears to be a ceiling.
“Yeah.”
Three hours later, Atsumu is sprawled across Shouyou’s bed while Shouyou remains on the floor staring at the exact same patch of ceiling.
Neither of them says much.
They’re just existing in the same space because being miserable alone is somehow worse than being miserable together.
Then—
“Didja eat?”
“No.”
“Wanna order something?”
“Can’t afford it.”
“Me neither.”
The room falls quiet for a moment.
Until Atsumu finally says,
“Wanna split a bag of chips?”
“Romantic.”
Atsumu snorts and starts climbing off the bed.
“I think I need another part-time job.”
There it is.
The problem.
Atsumu pauses.
“Why?”
“My laptop broke.”
Atsumu immediately sits back down.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s so much worse than my shower incident.”
Because a college student can survive a week without a shower. No laptop, however, is basically the academic equivalent of getting murdered.
“It is.”
“Didja back up yer files?”
“Fortunately.”
“Thank God.”
Shouyou lets out a long sigh.
“It worked fine yesterday. Then this morning it just... didn’t.”
“Have ya taken it to a service center?”
“Not yet.”
A pause stretches between them.
Then Shouyou laughs.
“I’m afraid I’ll end up walking into traffic instead.”
Atsumu stills.
When he glances over, Shouyou is still staring at the ceiling as if he didn’t just casually say something deeply concerning.
“Ya can use mine.”
Shouyou finally turns his head.
“What?”
“Mine. Use it until yours gets fixed.”
“Huh?”
“You need it too.”
Shouyou blinks.
“It’ll take time to get mine fixed. You know I’m broke.”
“Well...” Atsumu rubs the back of his neck. “We’ll figure something out.”
Neither of them says anything after that.
Then Atsumu pushes himself off the bed for the second time.
“So.”
“Yeah?”
“Still want chips?”
Shouyou finally smiles.
“Yeah.”
Atsumu comes back with a bag of chips already half-open, still munching as he walks in.
“What kind of sharing is that when you already ate half of it?”
“I only had a few.”
“Your ‘few’ is half the bag.”
“I only ate like, three chips.”
“Sure, sure.”
Atsumu sits on the floor beside Shouyou, who hasn’t moved an inch since earlier.
“Yer not gonna get up?”
“This is more comfortable.”
Shouyou’s hand starts searching for the chips without looking, failing immediately.
Atsumu sighs.
“Open your mouth.”
“Huh?”
Shouyou does it anyway.
Atsumu drops a chip in.
“You’re nicer than you look.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You look at everything like it personally offended you.”
Atsumu snorts. “Maybe it did.”
“So.”
Atsumu glances at him, feeding him another chip.
“What’s up with your face?”
“Yer only noticing it now?”
“You did that to get my attention?”
“No!”
Shouyou laughs.
Atsumu huffs.
“I got beaten up by a drunk guy.”
“That sucks.”
“It pretty much does.”
Shouyou hums. “Another chip, please.”
“Am I yer personal servant or somethin’?”
But Atsumu still feeds him anyway.
“Do you have class tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Morning shift?”
“No.”
“Then do you have a shift tonight?”
“No.”
“Great. Me too.”
“Congrats.”
“Atsumu-san.”
Atsumu glances over.
Shouyou is still staring at the ceiling, chewing chips like this is the most normal conversation in the world.
“Just stay the night today.”
Atsumu doesn’t answer for a moment.
“…Sure.”
Shouyou wakes up with the blanket completely stolen.
He blinks at the dyed blond guy beside him, then at the clock across the room.
Six in the morning.
Before he can even sit up properly, something grabs his hand.
“…Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu mumbles, voice muffled, eyes still shut. “It’s still early. Just go back to sleep.”
Shouyou stares at him.
“I can’t.”
“Mm… why?”
“It’s too cold.”
There’s a pause.
Then Atsumu shifts, pulling him closer into a half-hug.
“Here ya go.”
Shouyou blinks.
“I meant the blanket.”
“Same thing.”
Atsumu drapes what’s left of the blanket over him while still refusing to let go, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. His eyes never even open properly.
“Now sleep.”
Shouyou looks at him for a moment longer.
Then slowly gives in.
He doesn’t really have anything to do today anyway.
Might as well get more sleep.
They don’t wake up again until the sun is nearly overhead.
Or maybe it’s the hunger.
“Do ya even use the fridge?”
Atsumu closes the refrigerator after taking out the only two eggs he can find.
Shouyou, meanwhile, is scooping perfectly measured portions of rice into two bowls.
“It’s exactly what it looks like.”
Shouyou cracks an egg over the rice and adds soy sauce. Apparently that’s all it takes for sad rice to evolve into a dish with actual name.
Atsumu follows immediately.
Neither of them says much while eating.
“What time are you heading back?”
Shouyou finally asks.
Atsumu looks up.
“I don’t have anything today. Whenever I feel like it.”
Shouyou hums.
“I need to cover someone’s shift.”
“Suddenly?”
“Unfortunately.”
“What time?”
Shouyou glances at the clock.
“In thirty minutes.”
Atsumu snorts.
“Great time management.”
“I can run there.”
“Whatever. Just go shower. I’ll clean this mess.”
“Alright.”
Shouyou gets up and grabs a towel.
But before disappearing into the bathroom, he pauses.
“Atsumu-san.”
Atsumu looks over.
“I have a spare key in the drawer.”
Atsumu blinks.
“...What?”
“So you can lock the door when you leave.”
For some reason, that takes him a second longer to process than it should.
Not because of the practical part.
Because Shouyou says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Like handing Atsumu a key to his apartment is no different from offering him chips.
“I’ll be late if I keep standing here.”
“Right.”
Shouyou disappears into the bathroom.
Atsumu stares at the closed door for another moment before opening the drawer.
Sure enough, there’s a key inside.
“...Huh.”
The universe is getting weird again.
Atsumu walks back to his apartment after making sure Shouyou’s door is properly locked.
When he gets there, he finds Osamu already waiting outside, arms crossed over his chest.
“Yer skipping class again.”
Not even a hello.
“I didn’t even have class today.”
Atsumu shoves past him to unlock the door.
“I meant yesterday.”
Atsumu clicks his tongue.
“Stop stalking me.”
He walks inside. Osamu follows immediately behind him.
“It’s yer fault for making everyone worried.”
“Maybe ya lot should learn to mind yer own fucking business.”
Osamu sighs.
“Where were ya?”
Atsumu doesn’t answer. He tosses his keys onto the table, shrugs off his jacket, and does everything possible to pretend he didn't hear the question.
“Atsumu.”
“At Shouyou’s.”
Osamu goes quiet.
Not because of the name.
Because of the way Atsumu says it.
Like it’s obvious.
Like there’s nowhere else he would’ve been.
The same Atsumu who can’t commit to a major, a career plan, or a consistent sleep schedule somehow sounds weirdly certain about this.
Osamu blinks.
“Yer like this and still got a boyfriend?”
As if Atsumu being romantically desirable is somehow the most unbelievable part of the situation.
“Ain’t a boyfriend.”
“Thank fuck.”
The answer comes so quickly that Atsumu almost feels offended.
Osamu walks over to the table and drops a stack of containers onto it.
“A week worth of meals.”
“Toldja I can manage.”
“I doubt it.”
Before Atsumu can start another argument, his phone rings. He answers almost immediately.
Osamu frowns.
All he can hear is muffled talking from the other side.
“I think I left my key when I went out earlier.”
“Seriously?”
“...Yeah.”
“Wait there. I'm coming over.”
The call ends.
Atsumu is already reaching for his jacket.
“Where are ya going?”
“Shouyou forgot his key.”
“So?”
“I’m opening the door.”
Osamu stares at him.
Atsumu stares back.
“How are ya opening the door?”
“...”
“Atsumu.”
“...”
“YA HAVE A KEY?”
Atsumu ignores him.
“Ya should head home too.”
“Fine.”
Neither of them says much as they head downstairs.
Then—
“Ya got a key.”
“What about it?”
Osamu goes quiet.
“Atsumu.”
“What?”
“Ya at least bring him to a motel, right?”
Atsumu stops so abruptly he nearly misses a step.
“What?”
Osamu blinks.
“Don’t tell me ya fucked him in that—”
“IT ISN’T LIKE THAT.”
Atsumu’s voice echoes through the entire stairwell. Unfortunately, it sounds exactly like the kind of denial that makes everything seem significantly worse.
Osamu has always been excellent at minding his own business.
Except when it comes to his brother.
The problem starts around the time Osamu gets his internship offer. Not because of the internship itself, but because Atsumu suddenly announces he’s moving out of the apartment their parents bought specifically so neither of them would have to worry about rent during university.
At first, Osamu assumes it’s pride.
Then stubbornness.
Then spite.
Eventually, he stops trying to guess.
Things only get worse from there.
Atsumu stops hanging out with his friends, stops answering calls, starts skipping classes, failing classes, and getting into arguments with professors.
Somewhere along the way, every conversation involving him becomes exhausting because every conversation somehow circles back to the same thing.
Osamu this.
Osamu that.
Why can’t you be more like Osamu?
Osamu understands why he’s angry.
That doesn’t make it any easier to watch.
Then suddenly things change.
Not all at once. Just little things.
Atsumu disappears for a week because his shower breaks. Apparently he’s staying at a friend’s place.
Atsumu still has friends?
News to Osamu.
Then there’s the key.
The fucking key.
Because apparently Atsumu now possesses a spare key to someone else’s apartment, which sounds suspiciously like the sort of thing people only get after dating for six months.
Osamu doesn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned.
Probably both.
Either way, he’s determined to figure out who this mysterious friend is.
Unfortunately, Atsumu seems equally determined to make that impossible. Osamu never sees him on campus, never sees him in class, never sees him during lunch.
It’s like the guy only materialises when Osamu isn’t looking.
Then, one random afternoon, Osamu follows Atsumu into a café near campus.
And finally thinks—
There you are.
To Osamu’s surprise, it’s just some orange-haired guy.
Not a therapist.
Not a mentor.
Not a cult leader.
Just some guy behind a cash register.
Osamu identifies him almost immediately. Not because Atsumu introduces them—Atsumu would rather throw himself into traffic than willingly provide useful information—but because of how familiar they act around each other.
The orange-haired guy is taking orders while Atsumu leans against the counter like he owns the place. Neither of them seems particularly interested in behaving like normal customers and employees.
Which means this has to be him.
The friend.
The apartment guy.
The key guy.
The poor guy.
Osamu watches as Atsumu says something. The cashier rolls his eyes. Atsumu immediately looks offended. The cashier ignores him. Atsumu keeps talking anyway.
The cashier eventually laughs.
Oh.
Oh, this is bad.
This guy actually likes him.
The poor bastard has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.
On a random evening, when neither of them has work for once, they decide to meet after class.
It’s just a small park near campus.
Shouyou is already there when Atsumu arrives, sitting on a bench with his backpack at his feet.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Sorry. Class ran over.”
Shouyou glances at him.
“You managed to stay for the entire thing?”
“I’m surprised too.”
Atsumu drops onto the bench beside him.
For a while, neither of them says anything. The weather is nice, the park is quiet, and neither of them has enough money to do anything more interesting.
“So,” Atsumu says, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, “what should we do now?”
“Dunno. Talk, maybe.”
Atsumu hums.
Then—
“Do ya ever think maybe yer depressed?”
He asks it with the exact same tone someone might use to ask what they had for lunch.
“Every Tuesday.”
Shouyou doesn't even hesitate.
“It’s Friday.”
“Exactly.”
Atsumu stares at his shoes for a moment before leaning back against the bench.
“I think I might have mental issues.”
“Me too.”
“...”
“...”
“Wanna go on a psychiatric date next week?”
Shouyou turns to look at him.
“What’s a psychiatric date?”
“We both get evaluated.”
“That’s not a date.”
“It’s quality time.”
Shouyou laughs.
“You are insane.”
“I am.”
A comfortable silence settles between them.
They stay there until the sky turns orange, then blue, then something darker. One by one, people leave the park until only a few remain scattered around the paths.
Eventually, Shouyou stretches.
“Wanna head home?”
Atsumu nods.
“Yeah.”
They start walking. For a while, it’s just the sound of their footsteps.
Then Shouyou suddenly says,
“Come to think of it, I’ve never been to your place, Atsumu-san.”
Atsumu blinks.
He’s been to Shouyou’s apartment dozens of times. He’s slept there. Has a key to the place. Yet somehow Shouyou has never once visited his.
“Then wanna come over?”
Shouyou considers it for a second.
“Sure.”
A small smile appears on his face.
“I don’t have a morning shift tomorrow.”
When they get to Atsumu’s apartment, Shouyou seems far more impressed than he should be.
“This is much bigger than mine.”
Atsumu glances around.
“Correct that. Slightly bigger.”
“Same thing.”
“Not even close.”
Before Shouyou can argue, Atsumu tosses something at him. Shouyou catches it automatically.
Then looks down.
A key.
He blinks.
Atsumu shrugs.
“Because ya gave me yours.”
Shouyou stares at the key for a moment before shoving it into his pocket like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Neither of them comments on it.
“I’m taking a shower,” Atsumu says. “I think I still have instant noodles somewhere. Just eat first.”
“Alright.”
Shouyou is already opening cabinets by the time Atsumu disappears into the bathroom.
Apparently, having a key comes with confidence.
Atsumu has barely been gone ten minutes when someone knocks on the front door.
Shouyou frowns. Atsumu isn’t expecting anyone. At least, he doesn’t think so.
He walks over and pulls the door open.
Then immediately slams it shut again.
Hard.
A loud bang echoes through the apartment.
“Shouyou-kun, what happened?!”
Atsumu rushes out of the bathroom, still drying his hair with a towel.
Shouyou points at the door.
“A doppelgänger.”
“What?”
“A skinwalker. A ghost. I don’t know.”
“A what?”
“It looks exactly like you.”
Atsumu blinks.
Then blinks again.
From the other side of the door, a voice immediately shouts,
“I CAN HEAR YA, FUCKER.”
The voice sounds suspiciously familiar.
“I’m not a fucking ghost. Atsumu, open the damn door.”
Atsumu glances at the door.
Then at Shouyou.
Then back at the door.
Finally, he sighs.
“It’s just my twin brother.”
“Oh.”
A beat passes.
“...Sorry.”
Atsumu finally opens the door just to find a visibly offended Osamu standing on the other side.
Shouyou immediately takes half a step behind Atsumu.
Pure instinct.
Atsumu plants his hands on his hips.
“What?”
Osamu ignores him and shoves several food containers into his chest.
“Food delivery.”
Atsumu clicks his tongue.
“I told ya I can manage—”
“NICE. FREE FOOD.”
Both twins turn toward the source of the interruption.
Shouyou is already peeking around Atsumu’s shoulder.
“I was literally about to make instant noodles,” he says. “Maybe God is still on my side.”
Then he immediately grabs Atsumu’s wrist and starts pulling him inside.
“Hurry, Atsumu-san. I’m hungry.”
Atsumu follows without much resistance, balancing the food containers in his other hand.
Halfway through the living room, Shouyou suddenly peeks around his shoulder.
“You too, Atsumu-san’s brother.”
Osamu stares at him.
Then walks inside and closes the door.
“Osamu. I have a name.”
“Alright. Let’s eat, Osamu-san.”
The three of them end up eating on the floor because Atsumu’s table is too small for three people. Unfortunately.
Most of the meal passes in silence. Shouyou seems perfectly content focusing on the food in front of him. Osamu watches. Atsumu pretends not to notice.
Eventually, Atsumu glances over.
“Ya finished?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Shouyou immediately pushes himself to his feet.
“Thank you for bringing the food, Osamu-san.”
“No problem.”
Atsumu ignores both of them.
“Go take a shower. I’ll clean this up.”
“Okay.”
Shouyou grabs a towel and disappears into the bathroom.
The apartment falls quiet.
Osamu hums.
“I thought ya said ya weren’t boyfriends.”
“We’re not.”
“Mm.”
Atsumu starts stacking empty containers.
Neither of them says anything for a moment.
Then—
“...Yet.”
Atsumu freezes.
“What?”
Osamu shrugs.
“I dunno. Just seems like a matter of time.”
Atsumu throws a crumpled napkin at him.
“Get lost.”
Osamu laughs.
“I’m heading home anyway.”
“Good.”
“At least learn how to be grateful once in a while.”
Atsumu clicks his tongue.
“If the universe stops fucking with me, maybe I’ll consider it.”
Osamu opens the door.
Then pauses.
“By the way.”
“What now?”
“I like him.”
Atsumu blinks.
Osamu shrugs.
“Seems normal enough.”
Then he leaves before Atsumu can throw anything else at him.
Atsumu stares at the closed door for a moment.
Normal, huh?
If the standard of normal is someone who forgets meals, stares at ceilings for hours, and casually offers apartment keys to people he’s known for three months, then sure.
Shouyou is perfectly normal.
When Shouyou finally emerges from the shower, Atsumu is standing in front of his closet, rummaging through drawers and hangers.
“Atsumu-san.”
Atsumu glances over his shoulder.
Then immediately blinks.
Shouyou is standing there wearing nothing but his boxer, towel draped around his neck.
“Lend me some clothes.”
“Right.”
Atsumu turns back to the closet and digs around before pulling out the smallest shirt he can find.
“This is the smallest one.”
Shouyou takes it and pulls it over his head.
The shirt hangs ridiculously loose on him. The hem reaches well past the waistband of his boxer.
Shouyou looks down at himself.
“What exactly is your standard for small?”
Atsumu laughs.
Then makes the mistake of looking him up and down.
“It’s not my fault yer too small.”
Shouyou immediately pinches his arm.
“Ow.”
“Serves you right.”
Shouyou climbs onto the bed and settles against the headboard.
Atsumu rubs his arm, then pauses.
Actually.
“Didja start working out or something?”
“Why?”
“Ya got one hell of a thigh.”
Shouyou stares at him.
“You sound like a pervert.”
“I’m merely stating a fact based on observation.”
“Sure.”
Atsumu pokes his leg.
“Seriously.”
Shouyou thinks for a moment.
“I used to bike to school.”
“Every day?”
“Yeah. Since middle school through high school.”
“Damn. Must’ve been tough.”
Shouyou shrugs.
“Not really. You get used to it.”
Atsumu nods thoughtfully.
Then places a hand on Shouyou’s thigh.
“I guess that’s why ya possess the thighs of a god.”
Shouyou nearly jumps.
“Hey!”
Atsumu squeezes once.
“Scientific observation.”
“That’s harassment!”
Atsumu grins.
“Ya can touch mine too if ya want.”
A pause.
Then Atsumu’s expression immediately changes.
“Wait.”
Another pause.
“...That sounded weird.”
Shouyou bursts out laughing.
“Idiot.”
Before Atsumu can defend himself, Shouyou grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him closer.
“Now sleep.”
“But—”
“Sleep.”
Atsumu gives in without much resistance and climbs onto the bed beside him.
“Bossy.”
“Good.”
Shouyou closes his eyes.
Atsumu stares at him for a moment before finally settling down next to him.
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Sometimes, when things start getting better, the universe just has to remind Atsumu how much it hates him.
He bombs another quiz.
Again.
At this point, Atsumu is starting to think some professors see his name on the attendance sheet and take it as a personal challenge.
Normally he’d go buy an overpriced coffee and regret it immediately afterward. Unfortunately, he’s too broke for that now, which somehow feels even worse.
So instead, Atsumu finds himself standing in front of a bathroom mirror on campus, staring at his reflection before reaching for his phone.
There’s only one person he wants to call right now.
The call barely connects before Atsumu speaks.
“I think I might fail this class again.”
A few seconds of silence follow.
Then—
“That sucks.”
“It does.”
“Wait. You said again?”
“Yes.”
Atsumu closes his eyes.
“Yes, Shouyou-kun. Again.”
Another brief silence.
“Well, you can always retake it.”
Atsumu stares at his reflection.
“Shouyou-kun.”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t keep retaking classes forever.”
“Why not?”
Atsumu lets out a frustrated noise.
“Because normal people graduate.”
“Sounds fake.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Atsumu drags a hand down his face.
“I’m closer to dropping out than graduating right now.”
Shouyou laughs.
“That’s kinda bad.”
“Thank ya for the professional evaluation.”
“Anytime.”
A voice calls for Shouyou somewhere in the background, and his tone immediately changes.
“Oh. I gotta start my shift.”
“Already?”
“Yeah.”
Then, after a brief pause—
“I’ll call you later, Atsumu-san.”
And just like that, the call ends.
Atsumu lowers his phone and stares at the screen. The quiz is still failed. His grades are still awful. His future is still a complete disaster.
Yet somehow, he feels a little less like walking directly into traffic.
Atsumu shoves his phone back into his pocket and drags himself through the rest of the day.
By the time he gets back to his apartment, all he wants is to collapse face-first into bed and wait for Shouyou to call after his shift.
The universe, unfortunately, decides that’s enough emotional support for one day.
Osamu is standing in front of his door.
Of course.
“Ya look awful.”
“Yer stating the obvious.”
“So. Ya talk to Shouyou-kun but not yer own brother?”
That sounds more like a statement than a question.
Atsumu pauses halfway through unlocking the door.
“Because yer response sucks.”
He pushes the door open and walks inside.
“What’s up with ya now?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing never means nothing when it comes to ya.”
Atsumu clicks his tongue and tosses his bag onto the floor.
“I failed another quiz.”
“Which class?”
Atsumu doesn’t answer.
“...Atsumu.”
Still nothing.
“Which class?”
The silence stretches, then Osamu’s expression changes.
“Don’t tell me.”
“Yeah.”
Atsumu drops onto the couch.
“It’s that one.”
Osamu blinks.
“The one yer repeating?”
“The one I’m repeating.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
The room falls quiet.
“Yer ain’t gonna graduate at this point.”
“Maybe not.”
Atsumu says it so casually that it sounds rehearsed, like he’s already spent weeks getting used to the possibility.
Osamu hates that.
“Stop saying shit like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it ain’t funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Osamu exhales sharply.
For a moment neither of them says anything.
Then Atsumu laughs.
“See? This is why I called Shouyou instead.”
Osamu frowns.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He said it sucks.”
“Because it does suck.”
“Exactly.”
Atsumu leans back against the couch and closes his eyes.
“That’s all I needed.”
Osamu stares at him.
“Ya called someone just so they’d tell ya it sucks?”
“Yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Atsumu—”
“No.”
Atsumu sits up.
“No, seriously.”
His voice cracks slightly around the edges.
“It’s because ya already figured yer life out that ya don't understand.”
Osamu goes still.
“Ya’re graduating next spring.”
No response.
“Ya already got a job.”
Still nothing.
“Ya know where yer gonna be five years from now.”
“Atsumu.”
“Meanwhile I’m failing the same damn class for the third time.”
The words come out harsher than intended.
“Ain’t exactly hard to see why everyone compares us.”
“Atsumu.”
“Because honestly?”
He laughs again.
“A fucking goldfish could probably compare us and reach the same conclusion.”
“Atsumu.”
“I’m serious.”
“Then stop.”
The sharpness in Osamu’s voice finally makes him look up.
Osamu looks angry.
Actually angry.
“Ya think I don’t struggle?”
“NO.”
The answer comes immediately.
Without hesitation.
Because Atsumu knows.
Osamu is only twenty-two too. He knows the interviews, the applications, the rejections, the stress, the late nights, the uncertainty. He knows Osamu worked for everything he got.
That’s the problem.
“Then what?”
Atsumu opens his mouth.
Then closes it again.
Because the answer sounds pathetic.
“It’s just...” He rubs a hand over his face. “It’s hard.”
The anger drains out of him all at once.
“It’s hard watching someone who used to share everything with ya walk toward a future while yer standing still.”
Silence.
“A future that’s probably a lot better than whatever the hell I’m doing.”
Osamu doesn’t answer immediately.
For once, he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t tell Atsumu he’s wrong.
Just goes quiet.
Because the argument stopped being about grades a while ago.
“...’Tsumu.”
“What?”
“I’ve been telling ya to go to therapy for years.”
Atsumu lets out a tired laugh.
“Yeah.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
Atsumu stares at the floor.
“I know I’m the problem here.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Close enough.”
Osamu sighs.
“At this point, I might have to ask Shouyou-kun to drag ya there himself.”
That finally gets a reaction.
Atsumu snorts.
“He’s the one who needs therapy most out of all of us, idiot.”
Because Atsumu has seen him eat crackers for dinner and call it a meal.
Has seen him spend entire afternoons staring at the ceiling without moving.
Has seen him cry over a blank document because he couldn’t bring himself to write a single word.
That guy isn’t okay either.
If anything, he’s worse.
That guy is a disaster.
Osamu is quiet for a moment.
“Just don’t lose it and commit double suicide because ya two think it’s romantic.”
“That’s actually a pretty good idea.”
“ATSUMU.”
“Relax.”
Atsumu waves a hand dismissively.
“I’m kidding. Y’know I’m a coward.”
Osamu is silent.
Atsumu frowns.
“What?”
“That’s not exactly reassuring either.”
The joke lands wrong.
Because neither of them laughs.
Osamu leaves not long after, shoving another stack of food containers into Atsumu’s hands and making him promise he isn’t going to do anything stupid.
As if Atsumu would.
Shouyou would be disappointed.
The thought lingers longer than it should.
Shouyou calls exactly an hour later.
Atsumu ends up sprawled across his bed with the lights off, listening to Shouyou ramble about Antarctic penguins.
Apparently one species proposes with pebbles.
Or steals pebbles.
Or fights over pebbles.
Atsumu isn’t entirely sure.
He’s stopped paying attention somewhere around the third penguin fact.
The funny thing is, Atsumu has known for years that he probably belongs in psychiatric ward.
Long before Osamu started bringing it up.
Long before professors started asking if everything was alright.
Long before he started failing classes twice.
Yet somehow, instead of being in a psychiatrist’s office, he’s here listening to Shouyou passionately explain penguin social structures like it’s breaking news.
“Actually,” Shouyou suddenly says.
“Mm?”
“Osamu-san came to the café earlier.”
Atsumu sits up.
“What?”
“He waited until we were about to close.”
Shouyou sounds far too amused about this.
“Then he just walked up to me and asked me to keep a close eye on you.”
“That fucker.”
Shouyou laughs.
“Did something happen?”
Atsumu doesn’t answer.
“Didja finish that assignment?”
“Atsumu-san.”
“Have ya eaten dinner?”
“Atsumu-san.”
“Did the penguins—”
“Atsumu-san.”
Silence.
Atsumu stares at the ceiling.
Shouyou waits.
Eventually, Shouyou sighs.
“It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it.”
Another pause.
“Just say that.”
For a while, neither of them says anything.
Then Shouyou speaks again.
“Atsumu-san, you’re not obligated to tell me everything.”
The line goes quiet for a moment.
“I”m not your therapist, anyway.” He pauses. “But if you do want to talk about it, I’ll listen.”
The silence stretches again.
For a moment, all Atsumu can hear is Shouyou breathing on the other end of the line.
Atsumu exhales.
Finally, he gives up.
“We got into an argument.”
Shouyou hums, a sound that means he’s listening and nothing more.
“Y’know we used to live together.”
“With Osamu-san?”
“Yeah.”
Atsumu rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling.
“Our parents bought an apartment so neither of us would have to worry about rent while we’re in university.”
“You two must be loaded.”
“Fortunately.”
That earns a laugh from Shouyou.
Then silence settles between them again.
Shouyou doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t ask questions. Just waits.
Atsumu hates how easy that makes talking.
“This is pathetic and kinda embarrassing, but I moved out when he got his internship.”
“Why?”
It’s the first question Shouyou has asked since the conversation started.
“I...” Atsumu stops. “I don’t know. I just...” He drags a hand over his face. “I felt like I didn’t deserve it.”
Shouyou hums.
Not agreement. Not disagreement. Just acknowledgment.
“The stupid part is that I got exactly the same support he did. The same parents. The same opportunities. We grew up in the exact same house, but somehow I can’t even produce half the thing he does.”
The words come easier now that they’ve started.
“Then everybody started comparing us. Professors. Friends. Relatives. Hell, a random goldfish could probably compare us and reach the same conclusion.”
That gets a snort out of Shouyou.
Atsumu ignores it.
“It gets worse because he’s actually nice about it.”
“Mm?”
“It would’ve been easier if he was an asshole.”
Atsumu lets out a dry laugh.
“If he ignored me completely, maybe I’d have a reason to hate him.”
Instead, Osamu calls.
Checks up on him.
Brings him food.
Shows up at his apartment uninvited.
Keeps acting like Atsumu is still worth worrying about.
“It’s hard hating someone who’s done nothing wrong.”
The room falls quiet.
Atsumu stares at the darkness above him.
“God, I sound awful.”
“No.”
The answer comes immediately.
Atsumu blinks.
“No?”
“No.”
Shouyou shifts on the other end of the line.
“You sound sad.”
Atsumu doesn’t know what to do with that.
Because somehow that’s worse.
“Yeah,” he admits quietly. “Maybe I am.”
It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud.
On the other end of the line, Shouyou hums.
“In a way, I think you’re pretty responsible.”
Atsumu frowns.
“I’m literally failing a class for the third time.”
“Right. But you’re still retaking it.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes.
“That’s a low bar.”
“It’s still a bar.”
Before Atsumu can argue, Shouyou continues.
“You moved out on your own. You found your own apartment. You pay your own rent and living expenses.”
“That was a stupid decision.”
“You still did it.”
“Shouyou-kun.”
“I’m serious.”
Atsumu groans and drags a hand over his face.
“Sure, you miss classes. You miss assignments. You fail quizzes and exams. But you still go back. You still retake the class. Most people only notice the failing part.”
The room falls quiet.
Because no one has ever pointed that out before.
Everyone notices the failing.
Nobody notices the returning.
Then Shouyou keeps talking as if he hasn’t just said something that makes Atsumu’s chest feel strangely tight.
“You always answer my calls. You remember things I tell you. You carried my groceries that one time. You cleaned my dishes because my sink looked concerning. You fixed my window. You even let me borrow your laptop.”
“Those are normal things.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re just naming random stuff now.”
“You buy me food sometimes too.”
“Instant noodles don’t count.”
“They count to me.”
Atsumu stares at the ceiling.
“Shouyou-kun.”
“Yeah?”
“Your standards are genuinely terrible.”
Shouyou laughs.
“Maybe.”
The line goes quiet for a moment.
Then his voice softens.
“But I think you’re trying really hard, Atsumu-san.”
Atsumu closes his eyes.
For once, Atsumu doesn’t immediately make a joke out of it.
When he finally speaks, his voice comes out quieter than expected.
“...Thank you.”
The words feel strange in his mouth.
On the other end of the line, Shouyou hums.
“No problem.”
Then—
“So anyway, about the penguins.”
Atsumu lets out a laugh.
And for the first time that day, it doesn’t hurt.
Shouyou parts ways with his friends after class and starts walking toward the small park near campus.
The sky is already turning orange.
Somewhere behind him, people are heading home, heading to work, heading wherever people are supposed to go in the evening.
His phone vibrates.
One of his groupmates.
The project has been submitted.
Shouyou sends a thumbs-up emoji before slipping the phone back into his pocket.
Group projects are easy.
People expect things from him.
He likes that.
It’s harder to disappear when someone is waiting for your part of the presentation.
Individual assignments are different. Sometimes he opens a document and stares at it for three hours. Sometimes he skips class. Sometimes he lies on the floor and watches sunlight move across the ceiling until evening arrives, then gets up and pretends he wasn’t doing that.
Most people don’t notice.
As far as everyone else is concerned, Hinata Shouyou is doing alright.
His mother worries about him less than she used to. His professors don’t have complaints. His friends seem to enjoy having him around.
By most standards, that’s probably success.
Shouyou has always been good at taking care of things.
Or maybe just good at making it look like things are taken care of.
The distinction stopped mattering years ago.
As the older sibling, there was never much room for mistakes. Not because anyone demanded perfection from him. He just didn’t want to make things harder for anyone else.
His mother already worked enough.
Natsu was still young.
So Shouyou learned early that some problems were better kept to himself.
Money problems.
School problems.
Future problems.
If he could solve them alone, there was no reason to tell anyone.
If he couldn’t—
Well.
That usually meant he needed to try harder.
Even now, he rarely calls home.
Text messages are easier. They can be edited, rewritten, deleted before sending. They don’t accidentally reveal how exhausted he is.
Once a month, he buys something decent for dinner. Something with vegetables. Something healthy enough to convince his mother he’s taking care of himself.
Then he takes a picture and sends it to her.
A few minutes later she’ll reply with a smiling sticker and tell him to keep eating well.
The following week usually consists of instant noodles.
That part never makes it into the picture.
The same goes for rent.
Living expenses.
The number left in his bank account whenever the month is about to end.
His mother has offered to help more than once.
Shouyou always says no.
Partly because he wants to prove he can do it.
Partly because accepting help usually comes with questions.
And Shouyou isn’t sure he wants to answer them.
The funny thing is that he isn’t even certain he likes what he’s studying.
Back then, choosing a major felt simple.
Find something realistic. Something employable. Something he could actually get accepted into.
Pass the entrance exam.
Graduate.
Get a job.
A perfectly reasonable plan.
The problem is that nobody ever explains what to do when reaching the goal doesn’t make you feel anything.
The park finally comes into view.
Shouyou can already see the familiar blond idiot sitting on one of the benches.
Miya Atsumu.
At first, Shouyou thought he was rude.
Then annoying.
Then strangely entertaining.
Then somehow important.
Which is unfortunate.
Because Atsumu notices things.
He notices when Shouyou skips class. Not because he’s concerned, but because he skips class too.
He notices when Shouyou eats crackers for dinner because he’s doing the same thing.
He notices when Shouyou spends hours staring at the ceiling.
Mostly because he eventually joins him.
He notices the jokes that stop being jokes halfway through.
The same way Shouyou notices them in return.
Neither of them is particularly good at hiding when the other already knows what to look for.
Shouyou has spent years convincing people he’s doing fine.
Atsumu never seems convinced.
Strangely enough, that’s become one of his favorite things about him.
By the time Shouyou reaches the bench, Atsumu is staring at his phone with the exact same expression he uses whenever life is personally offending him.
Shouyou smiles.
Maybe some things are worth showing up for.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
Atsumu glances up briefly before shoving his phone back into his pocket.
“Class ran over?”
“Yeah.”
Shouyou drops onto the bench beside him.
The conversation drifts naturally after that. Classes. Part-time jobs. The fact that Atsumu’s professor seems personally offended every time he walks into that classroom.
At some point, Shouyou is laughing hard enough to nearly fall off the bench.
“I’m serious,” Atsumu insists. “The guy looked at the attendance sheet, looked at me, then sighed.”
“Maybe he’s just happy to see you.”
“He looked like he was attending a funeral.”
Shouyou laughs again.
The sky gradually darkens above them. Students pass by on the nearby paths, heading home one by one. For a while, neither of them says much.
Then Atsumu suddenly speaks.
“’Samu came over yesterday.”
“Hm?”
“He brought food.”
“That was nice of him.”
“He also accused us of being boyfriends.”
Shouyou blinks.
“Again?”
“Again.”
Atsumu picks at a loose thread on his sleeve.
“Said we act weird.”
“We do act weird.”
“Thank you, Shouyou-kun. Very supportive.”
“Anytime.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes.
Another comfortable silence settles between them before he speaks again.
“Y’know.”
“Hm?”
“’Samu really thought we were dating.”
Shouyou blinks because he catches the underlying meaning immediately.
“You want us to date when we’re like this?”
Atsumu snorts.
“Ya have the same reaction as ’Samu.”
“Because look at us.”
“What’s wrong with us?”
Shouyou gestures vaguely between them.
“Everything.”
Atsumu laughs.
“Fair.”
The silence that follows isn’t awkward. Just thoughtful.
Atsumu scratches the back of his neck.
“So.”
Shouyou glances over.
“Is that a no?”
For a moment, Shouyou doesn’t answer. His gaze drifts toward the path ahead, then the trees swaying gently in the evening breeze, then the campus lights beginning to flicker on in the distance.
Finally, he shrugs.
“I’ve never said no.”
Atsumu is quiet for a second.
Then—
“Alright then.”
And somehow that becomes the end of the conversation.
No dramatic confession. No grand speech. Just the two of them sitting on a park bench long after the sun has disappeared, as if this is the most natural thing in the world. As if they’ve been doing it for years.
Time passes strangely after that.
Shouyou picks up another part-time job at an izakaya down the street. Atsumu miraculously passes all his classes. Osamu graduates and starts working.
For the first time since moving out of the apartment they used to share, Atsumu doesn’t spend semester break alone.
He doesn’t go back to his parents’ house. He’s still too much of a coward for that.
Instead, he spends most of it in Miyagi.
At Shouyou’s.
Osamu thinks the only thing left for them to do is register their marriage.
Atsumu thinks Osamu should shut up.
Then a new semester begins.
One class.
Just one.
One final class standing between Atsumu and graduation.
Unfortunately, it’s also that class.
The professor walks into the room, scans the students, then accidentally makes eye contact with Atsumu.
His expression immediately changes.
Like a man who has just seen a ghost.
Atsumu waves.
The professor somehow looks even less happy.
By the time class ends, Atsumu has barely taken three steps toward the door before a voice calls after him.
“Miya.”
Atsumu freezes.
Shit.
Slowly, he turns around.
“Yes?”
His professor removes his glasses.
“I’ve seen you more often than most of my colleagues.”
“That’s sweet.”
The professor stares at him.
“Most students only need one attempt to pass this class.”
“I value consistency.”
“I don’t.”
Atsumu wisely decides not to argue.
This should be his last retake. The last thing he needs is to spend another year at university because he annoyed a professor into committing murder.
So instead, he bows.
“Thank you for teaching me.”
The professor looks immediately suspicious.
“As if this is goodbye.”
“It better be.”
When Atsumu steps outside the building, his phone vibrates.
Shouyou.
He answers immediately.
“How’d it go?”
“I survived.”
“Congratulations.”
“The professor looked disappointed to see me again.”
“Reasonable reaction.”
“Shut up.”
Shouyou laughs.
The familiar sound settles somewhere warm inside Atsumu’s chest.
“Didja eat lunch yet?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“’Samu brought food last night.”
“Oh. Nice.”
A brief pause.
“My shift ends in ten minutes.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll meet you at your place.”
Atsumu smiles despite himself.
“See ya.”
“See ya.”
The call ends.
Atsumu slips his phone back into his pocket and starts walking.
The future is still uncertain. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing after graduation. He still has problems, fears, and a hundred things he hasn’t figured out yet.
The universe is probably already preparing something awful for him. Atsumu has accepted this as a fundamental law of nature.
Realistically, he’ll probably continue making terrible decisions.
Probably as early as next week.
His phone vibrates again.
Shouyou
where are you?
i forgot to bring your apartment’s key
Atsumu rolls his eyes.
Then starts typing back as he continues walking.
Some problems, apparently, never go away.