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"There's not enough time."
Osamu barely heard the words, muffled as they were against his shirt. It had been years since Atsumu joined Osamu in the bottom bunk (and, for that matter, years since the reverse), but somehow when his brother climbed down the ladder and waited over him, Osamu wasn't surprised, and merely scooted over to give Atsumu enough room to clamber awkwardly onto the tiny bunk. Even Osamu alone was almost too big for this bunk, and with both of them crammed onto it, they had to hold onto each other to make sure neither of them fell off.
When Osamu didn't answer, Atsumu continued, "I don't want this to end."
Osamu sighed in a way that he hoped Atsumu knew meant "I agree."
The next morning, Atsumu would be going to Osaka to train with the Black Jackals. A week after, Osamu would be going to culinary school. It felt like they'd been waiting for these opportunities their whole lives, and still, there was a part of Osamu (maybe of both of them) that didn't feel ready.
He didn't know how to say this, so he asked, "What are you afraid of?"
He knew that Atsumu was afraid by the way he held him, his arms wrapped so tightly around Osamu that it couldn't be explained away by "he didn't want to fall off," by the way he buried his face in Osamu's shirt, by the way he sniffled, by the way he tensed every time Osamu moved. Or, maybe he knew that Atsumu was afraid because he was afraid.
Atsumu took a shaky breath, and asked, so quietly that Osamu had to strain to hear it, "What if I can't play without you?"
Osamu was shaking his head before Atsumu even finished answering the question. "That's not it. You've played without me before and you can do it again."
"What if I don't like it?"
"There is nothing in the world that could make you dislike volleyball."
"What if they don't understand me being aroace?"
"There are clubs for that. Besides, this generation's kinder in that way."
"What if I can't make friends?"
"Then you'll have to rely on your friends back home."
"What if you won't be there?"
Osamu didn't answer that one for a long moment. "I won't be there," he said, softly, as if Atsumu needed reminding. He shifted, trying to look down at his brother, and Atsumu's grip on him tightened.
"I know," he mumbled. "That's why I'm so scared."
Yes, that was it. A part of Osamu was settled by this, because in interrogating Atsumu he'd also been trying to find the source of his own apprehension, and Atsumu had gotten it exactly right. The core question was that, exactly that- what if Atsumu wasn't there for him?
But of course, adding the "for him" changed the whole meaning of the sentence, and something in him shattered at the thought of not having Atsumu there for him, at the thought of not being there for Atsumu. He moved and Atsumu exhaled nervously, but he was just rearranging his position so he could hold onto Atsumu tighter, keeping his head to his chest, as if he could stop the clock from ticking, from counting down to the moment he'd have to let go.
"Tell me you're not ready," Atsumu said, which would sound like a strange request to anyone but Osamu. He wasn't just asking for Osamu to recite a script; he was asking for it to be true, to not be alone because Osamu was in the same boat.
They were in the same boat, but not that one, so he answered, "I can't. Because I am."
Atsumu stilled, and didn't say anything. Osamu let the words sit for a moment, until he felt Atsumu trembling, and he added, "And so are you." Atsumu shook his head, and Osamu relaxed his hold on his brother, just enough to be able to rub his back up and down.
When he seemed to realize that that was the extent of Osamu's pep talk, he started to talk again, his words almost incomprehensible but all the same clear to his twin. "I'm not ready. I need more time. I didn't do enough, I didn't see everyone enough, I didn't appreciate anyone enough, I didn't- I need more time. I'm not ready for this to end. I need more memories."
Osamu whacked the back of his head at that, and Atsumu whined and curled up, almost kneeing Osamu in the groin, catching himself at the last moment and stretching out again to give them more room.
"You don't need memories," Osamu said, his voice hard enough, even at this late night quiet tone, to make Atsumu listen to him. "And you know why? Because your future will outshine everything you've ever done. You- you're going to be a star, you hear me? You are going to be brighter than everyone else on that court, and you're going to achieve so much more than you can even imagine right now, and it's going to be brilliant. And if you get distracted by what you've already done, if you don't focus on that future, it won't happen. So, eyes ahead."
Atsumu made a choked noise against Osamu's chest. "You too," was all he managed, and Osamu rolled his eyes. "But the memories-"
"Ugh, the memories again? How many times do I have to tell you-"
"The memories matter, Samu, listen to me! The memories matter. And it took me so long to realize. Way too long. And I have no more time." Atsumu inhaled sharply in the way that meant he was close to tears. "Please don't forget," he said. "When you're- in your restaurant, with- with the love of your life- two kids- living your dreams- don't forget me."
Osamu shoved Atsumu off the bed.
From the floor, Atsumu stared at him, open-mouthed, too shocked to even yell at him.
Really, all Osamu had been trying to do was push him away enough to be able to see his face. He thought he knew what Atsumu meant by that, but he couldn't be sure until he saw him. He'd underestimated just how small the bed was, though. Not that it mattered- with the light from the moon coming through the window, it illuminated Atsumu enough for Osamu to be able to see that he meant exactly what Osamu thought he meant.
Atsumu found his voice at last and said, strangled, "What was that for?!"
"For being the dumbest idiot alive," Osamu growled, harsher than he intended. (He'd never been good at being gentle when Atsumu was wrong about something. Even if he had tried to be gentle about it, he wasn't sure the words would get through Atsumu's thick skull without Osamu yelling them.)
"I won't need to remember you," he said, and Atsumu flinched until Osamu barreled ahead, "because you'll be right there the whole time. I mean it, Tsumu. Every single day."
Atsumu blinked a few times. "I'm going to Osaka."
"And you bet I'm calling you every chance I get."
"You'll have a restaurant."
"And you're going to be my unofficial taste-tester. You gotta come every day to make sure every day's onigiri is good."
"You'll get married."
"You'll be my best man. Don't act surprised, you know you will be. And whoever my spouse is, they're gonna take my name, because we're the Miya twins and we always will be and that means you're not getting rid of me. Never, Tsumu. I could get married a thousand times and I would never put you second."
They stared at each other, Osamu ready to deflect any more outrageous scenarios Atsumu had to throw his way. Atsumu had nothing else, though; nothing except to pick himself up off the floor and crawl back onto the bottom bunk.
He didn't hold onto Osamu quite as tight as he did before. He knew he didn't need to.