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“What is it, scrub?” Osamu asked, leaning across the counter and leveling Atsumu with a hard stare.
“‘S nothin’,” he muttered, playing with the grains of rice that had fallen onto his plate and avoiding eye contact. He saw Osamu raise an eyebrow but stubbornly remained silent.
“Fine,” his twin said, slapping his hand down on the wood. “That’ll be ¥5000 fer the food —”
“What?!” Atsumu yelped.
“— an’ another ¥5000 fer dealin’ with yer broody ass.”
Atsumu gasped.
“Or,” Osamu offered, fingers pressing heavily into the receipt he’d hastily written as he pushed it across the counter. “You just tell me what’s gotcha lookin’ like Ma tossed out yer toner.”
Atsumu let out a sigh that bordered on a whine and threw himself down on the countertop. “It’s Shouyou-kun!” he said.
Osamu’s expression immediately became more serious and more concerned. “Somethin’s up with Shouyou-kun?”
Hinata Shouyou, MSBY opposite hitter and Atsumu’s boyfriend for the past year and a half. Atsumu had known there was something between them from the moment he first saw that freak-quick back at Nationals, prompting him to tell the ginger that he’d set for him some day. Osamu had ribbed him about it back then, but Atsumu had been proven right, had been validated the moment he saw that sunshine smile walk into the MSBY open try-outs five years later.
He’d been right about their connection, too, as they trained together, practiced together, got to know each other and gradually fell in love.
And now he wanted to ask Shouyou to move in, to let him know he was serious about them in a way he was rarely ever serious, but he didn’t know how.
Atsumu put his head back on the counter and groaned.
“Oy,” Osamu said, clearly trying to get his attention. Atsumu kept his face hidden, embarrassed over this. It was just four words he needed to get out: move in with me. Six, if he elected to make it a question.
A sharp flick to the top of his head had him sitting up and whining.
“What’s goin’ on with you and Shou?”
“Nothin’,” he muttered, casting his twin a glare.
Nothing at all, but that was the problem.
The bell over the door to the restaurant tinkled. Osamu turned his head, intent on greeting his next customer but his face lit up in a big, frankly-dopey smile instead.
Must be Yukie-chan.
Shirofuku Yukie had run into Onigiri Miya to escape a sudden storm three years ago, bought a rice ball to eat and a store shirt to change into and never really left.
Not literally — she lived in Chiba at the time — but between her voracious appetite and longstanding friendship with Bokuto, Yukie quickly became a fixture in their lives. Atsumu had a front row seat to watching his brother fall in love which sucked, because they made it look so easy.
Not that being with Shouyou wasn’t easy. It just didn’t seem as effortless. Yukie had gotten a job in Osaka, roomed with Osamu while looking for an apartment before realizing the one she was in was just fine and that was that.
“Atsumu-kun, good to see you!” his brother’s girlfriend greeted him, bumping her shoulder into his affectionately.
“Yukie-chan,” he whined. “‘Samu’s bein’ mean ta me.”
“Quit yer poutin’,” Osamu said, leaning across the counter to accept a quick kiss on the cheek. “Just ‘cause you don’ wanna tell me what’s wrong doesn’t mean I’m bein’ mean.”
Yukie’s gaze darted back and forth between the brothers before settling on Osamu. She nodded subtly before readjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
“Well, Mishu probably needs to go for a walk, so I’ll leave you two to it. Stay for dinner Atsumu-kun, if you have time?”
“Sure thing, Yukie-chan,” he responded. “See ya later.”
The bell marked her departure for the couple’s upstairs apartment and the return of Osamu’s attention.
“You gonna tell me what’s up?”
Atsumu was silent for a beat.
“Yukie-chan’s really great,” he offered.
Osamu nodded slowly. “She is.” He sighed. “But that’s not what this is about.”
“Yukie-chan’s really great,” he repeated, “and you both make it look so easy.”
Osamu grabbed two cans of beer from below the mini fridge, opening both and passing one over.
“You and Shou-kun havin’ trouble?”
“No,” Atsumu moaned, pressing the palms of his heels to his eyes. “Maybe. Not — we’re not havin’ trouble, it’s just —”
“You havin’ second thoughts?” Osamu asked, a little more insistent, a little more concerned.
“No!” he groaned.
“Then just — fuckin’ — out with it! What am I gonna do — judge ya? Been doin’ that for the past 25 years and I’m still here! Not sure there’s anything you could do to get rid of me at this point.”
“I wanna ask him to move in with me!” Atsumu let out in a rush. “I want to ask him to move in with me but I don’t know how!”
Osamu — the absolute fucker — laughed at him. He laughed, hands clutching the edge of the counter for support as he doubled over. He had the nerve to wipe away a ‘tear’ when he resurfaced from his hysteria.
“D’ya maybe —” he sputtered out in chuckles again — “Did ya think to try ‘wanna move in with me?’”
“Course I did ya fuckin’ asshole!” Atsumu contemplated throwing his drink at his twin but decided it wasn’t worth the mess Osamu would definitely make him clean up. “I just — UGH. ”
“Ya didn’t want to stick yer foot in it the way ya always do.”
He dropped his head to the counter again in resigned agreement. He felt a hand on his hand.
“But yer stupid if you think he won’t say yes. Shou-kun’s mad about ya, y’know? If he was gonna get put off by yer big fat mouth, it woulda been long before now. So just — ask. What’s the worst he’ll do, say no? If he does, it was headin' that way anyways.”
“Not,” Atsumu ground out, “helpful.”
“Not helpful,” Osamu teased, “or not what you want to hear?”
When did Osamu get so wise?
He thunked his head against the wood a few times before sighing. “He’s signin' with a team in Brazil. Next season.”
The hand on his head squeezed for a long second before releasing.
“Shoulda said that at the start, ya drip.” Atsumu heard footsteps fading, then getting louder before a plunk sounded next to his head. He opened his eyes to see a cup of pudding. “Because now what I’m really hearin' is that ya want to do long-distance and aren’t sure if he wants that too.”
The problem with having a twin, Atsumu thought, was that they knew each other far too well. Always had, always would.
But the best thing about having a twin was that even if Hinata didn’t want to stay together, even if Yukie packed her things and left tomorrow, they’d have each other. If they could survive high school on the same team together, if they could survive Osamu choosing a path other than volleyball, they could weather anything.
“So how’d that conversation go?” Osamu prodded.
“Fine,” Atsumu huffed, aiming for nonchalant but probably failing miserably.
“About as well as when I told ya I wouldn’t be playin’ volleyball with ya after high school, then?”
Yeah. About that well. Except that his twin hadn’t been moving twenty-plus hours away. Atsumu also had the realization that he wanted forever with Shouyou the moment ‘I got an offer in Brazil’ left the ginger’s mouth, so that was another layer of fun. His face must have given him away, cause Osamu continued.
“Did ya at least make up yet? Or are ya trying to plot how to say yer sorry at the same time?”
"Nah, I 'pologized. He said he knows how I get and that it was no problem.”
“And you’re still worried he’ll say no? For fuck’s sake, ‘Tsumu, it’s asking him to room with ya for a few months, not a marriage proposal!”
“I never said it made sense!” Atsumu snapped. “What do you know anyways? Yukie basically waltzed in and handed ya the relationship on a skewer, ya never had to try fer anything!”
His twin sent him a long look before nodding at Yukie outside, passing by the windowed storefront with their overgrown teddy-bear of an Akita.
“That so?” he asked once she was out of sight. He reached under the counter by the cash register and pulled out a small box that he put in front of Atsumu.
The dark red velvet clued him in enough — he didn’t need to see what was inside to know what it was.
“How long have ya had that?” he squawked.
“Long enough.”
Long enough to second guess his choice — of ring, not recipient. Long enough to doom-spiral through every possible outcome twice over. Long enough to not have the words to ask.
“Guess we both suck at this, huh?” Atsumu fiddled with the box before peeking inside.
Nice. Maybe Osamu had some taste after all.
“Don’t put me on yer level! This isn’t — I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes but I want this to be perfect, y’know?”
“Did ya think to try askin' her with food?” Atsumu teased, throwing Osamu’s earlier words back at him. “Y’know, maybe stickin’ the ring in an onigiri and —”
“And risk her swallowin’ it? Nah.” Osamu shook his head to emphasize the point.
“Well, ya have time, I guess,” Atsumu said, spinning the box on the countertop by pushing on a corner. “Unlike me.”
Osamu snatched it away. “Stop that. Ya look even uglier when ya pout.” He sighed. “We’ll figure somethin’ out for ya.”
Atsumu perked up. “You’ll help?”
“Course I will, scrub.” Osamu shot him a level look. “Yer ugly and annoyin’ but I want ya to be happy.”
Atsumu’s smile dropped briefly to a glare before rebounding. “And I’ll help ya with Yukie-chan, if ya want.”
Osamu held his fist out for a bump.
The blond knocked his fist against his brother’s.
“So…” Atsumu started after a moment of silence. “When do ya think you’ll be poppin’ out some nieces and nephews for me?”
Osamu’s hands, in the process of making another onigiri, froze for a moment before continuing. “Not fer a while, I don’t think. We like things just as they are.” Osamu looked at him. “You?”
Atsumu gave a him an incredulous look. “Yer not forgettin’ sex-ed in yer old age, are ya?”
“I mean,” Osamu sent him a vicious grin, “you’re bein’ such a pussy about the whole thing, I just figured —”
Atsumu actually did throw his drink this time.