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The simple prospect of trying to pinpoint when or where these thoughts started just seemed like such a chore, but he couldn’t help but ponder on it all the same, eyes fixed on the fading glow of the plastic stars he tacked above his bunk years prior. Atsumu had never thought to label himself as a person who was insecure, because in all honesty, he had no regard for how others thought of him. Why did it matter if they hated or disliked him? He didn’t care if anyone thought he was weird or annoying. That was a fault of their own, and he didn’t have the desire to spend his energy trying to change it.
And, yet, something else nagged at him. It was in the back of his head at least once everyday, and it didn’t quite have to do with how others thought of him, but more in regards to how they perceived him. It stirred a nervousness in his stomach when he thought about it for too long, and he hadn’t even been able to articulate it in words— not to himself, and most definitely not to anyone else. He furrowed his brows, tossing and turning where he laid in bed as his mind and body were kept wide awake by his thoughts. He’d never had trouble sleeping in the past, always out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow, but recent nights had been anything but that. Hours of unrest, groggy mornings, and crabby days.
Osamu began to notice.
“When’d ya sleep last night?” Osamu inquired as both of them were getting themselves ready for school in the morning. Atsumu hadn’t expected the question, and he wasn’t quite sure why it struck a sharp nervousness into his chest and down his stomach, the feeling similar to little needles poking at him.
“Uh, same time as you, like always?” He answered, swallowing a certain shakiness. He fixed his uniform in the mirror, and he looked awfully flushed. He could feel Osamu’s gaze on him, and he was unsure whether to blame that or his reflection for the sting of sudden tears in his eyes. That was quite recent as well, he’d noticed— the sight of himself often made him feel odd. Sometimes it made him want to cry, sometimes it just settled him with a feeling of unease.
Maybe he was going crazy.
“We’re gonna be late.” Osamu piped up after a little while, and Atsumu nodded silently, snatching up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He watched his feet as he walked, hands shoved deep in his pockets, gaze only flicking upwards when he wanted to get a glimpse of the sun rising up behind the mountains. He sighed, dragging his feet as Osamu led the way through a small short cut that ran right through a field of farmland.
“Feel like shit.” He muttered to himself. Suddenly, Osamu stopped walking, causing Atsumu to bump up against his back with an exclamation of surprise. “The hell’s that for?” He grumbled, shoving the other lightly, absentmindedly rubbing one of his tired eyes with his fists.
“Ya look like shit.” Osamu told him, brows furrowed intensely as he stared at him. By that alone, Atsumu was able to tell that his brother was worried, above all else. The way he looked at him was almost fearful, maybe because he expected so much more from him. Maybe because he couldn’t stand to see him miserable for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint. And, in that moment, Atsumu wanted the dirt below him to swallow him whole, because this was stupid.
It was stupid that he was laying awake at night, asking himself why he was a boy.
It was stupid that he was tearing up at his reflection and pulling his shirts taught to his waist.
It was stupid that he wondered why ‘handsome’ was the only compliment.
It was stupid that he got nauseous every now and again when he was called a ‘nice young man’.
It scared him, too, because it wasn’t as if it was constant, either. It was a nag at times, but all the same, there were times where it felt so consuming that he had the urge to sob himself to sleep at night. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but his fears outweighed the urge of asking, because he had no clue what any of this meant for him. He didn’t have to find out if no one ever knew, though— but every day that passed made the pit in his stomach fester, and the idea that he couldn’t handle it forever was one that loomed over his head as a constant reminder.
“I slept bad.” He finally said to Osamu, who had been staring at him for the past minute or so, waiting for any sort of acknowledgment or response. He vaguely recalled the fact that they were running behind, the school still being a solid five minutes away at a steady pace, but it didn’t seem as if either of them cared. There was something pressing on Atsumu’s chest, and Osamu would be damned if he didn’t attempt to yank it off in the best ways that he knew how. That’s what they did for each other, and things had never been different, so why was there so much hesitation only now?
“Ya told me ya went to bed at the same time as me.” Osamu reminded him flatly, not impressed by the common occurrence of Atsumu withholding the truth. He didn’t mind as much when it was over trivial things, but this was very obviously important, slight irritation seeping into his expression.
“Whatever, c’mon, we gotta get goin’.” Atsumu insisted, the intense feeling of nervousness returning to his insides, because this conversation was going somewhere that he didn’t know if he was prepared for.
“I’ll tell mama that ya slipped down the hill and fucked up yer clothes again.” The response sounded nearly prepared, and Atsumu was hit with the sudden realization that he had no way of getting out of this— because as much as everyone saw Atsumu as the determined one out of the two, Osamu’s stubbornness, at times, could reach levels that were only attainable in his own most irritating daydreams. Burying his face in his hands, Atsumu plopped himself down onto the dirt, shrugging his bag off of his shoulder in the process.
“Yer annoyin’.” He huffed as he glared up at Osamu, whose only response was a simple shrug before he mimicked his twin, seating himself amongst the premature crops that stood barely taller than the middle of either of their backs. Atsumu glanced out at the horizon, squinting at the sun that had finally shown its fullness above the peaks of the mountains. It was really pretty, and he would never even consider such a thing at any other time, but he was fully focused on removing his mind from the imminent conversation.
Osamu was staring at him.
“Shut up.” Atsumu grumbled.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Yer sayin’ it with that ugly face.” He nearly pouted, pulling his knees to his chest as he rested his chin on them.
“Whatever. Mind tellin’ me what the hell’s gotten into ya? I’m sick of yer crappy moods.” Osamu said, blunt as he could be and scrunching up his nose as he spoke. Atsumu wanted to kick him in the chin, but he didn’t think that would be very productive at the moment.
“No, it’s stupid.”
“Everything’s stupid with ya, now spit it out so we can get to school.”
Atsumu wished it was that easy— he really did. Groaning, he ran his hands down his face, trying to stamp down the nausea he was beginning to experience from nothing more than anxiety. “Why am I a dude, Samu? Like, why is that a thing?” He blurted out, and he found himself immediately cringing at how weird of a question it seemed to be out loud. Osamu gave him an odd sort of look.
“…What kinda question is that?” He asked, sounding as if he was stifling a bit of laughter, and that was what Atsumu had been afraid of, his throat aching as he swallowed.
“S’not funny.” He mumbled, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, causing Osamu to go silent. It was an odd silence, one where Atsumu could feel the thinking and calculation going on in his brother’s head, and he decided that he felt a very strong distaste for that brand of silence. “Like I said, it’s stupid, so we don’t gotta talk about it—”
“Do ya wanna be a girl or somethin’?” Osamu cut him off, the question absent of any form of judgement. It just sounded like he was confused, and Atsumu was, too, so he couldn’t blame him. But he didn’t have an answer to a question like that, and it only made him want to burst into full tears, covering his face as he tried his best not to.
“I dunno, Samu. I really don’t.” He sighed, and it was a bit shaky. “Maybe? But m’ okay with bein’ a guy, just not all the time!” He exclaimed, and it sounded almost as if he was becoming frustrated rather than sad or upset. “Like, why can’t I be pretty, y’know? Why’s it gotta be ‘oh, Atsumu’s such a handsome young man’ all the time? Why can’t I wear anything I want? I hate pants! Pants suck! I wanna wear a dress!” He was almost shouting, now, but Osamu just let him, looking on with an unreadable sort of expression. It was probably therapeutic for him to be yelling all this at an empty field with no one around but his twin brother. “I can be pretty! I can be real beautiful, Samu, I know it! But everything’s so fuckin’ stupid! What if I wanna be a girl sometimes? Huh? What about it?”
“Tsumu—“
“I can be a dude, too! Fine! If I tried hard enough, I could confuse everyone, and I think that would be real nice! I’d feel real good, and—“
“Shut up, oh my god!” Osamu exclaimed, causing Atsumu to do just that, face turning slightly red when he realized that he’d been practically shouting his inner turmoil to whoever would hear it. “If ya wanna do all that, no one’s stoppin’ ya. I’m not, I know mama wouldn’t.” He shrugged, not really all that phased by the things his brother had said. Their mother had always been insistent about the boys being able to express themselves, and Atsumu had always been the one to have interest in a mixture of gendered things, while Osamu tended to stay on the more masculine side. This didn’t feel much different.
“Wait… Really?” Atsumu muttered in disbelief after a few moments, like he didn’t even believe what he was hearing. He expected a response that was more shocked, maybe, or one that was close to disgust. Of course, he was thankful for the opposite, but that didn’t lessen any of his surprise. Osamu just rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, really. What’d ya think I was gonna do? Tell ya that yer a freak? C’mon, Tsumu, use yer head for once.” He scoffed, and Atsumu didn’t know whether to be offended by the statement or appreciate the fact that he was receiving nothing but support. He settled for something in between.
“Maybe! Don’t be an ass!” He huffed, kicking at Osamu’s leg, “This is a lot for me, alright?” He added with a bit of a pout, getting nothing but a shake of the other’s head as an underwhelming response— but Osamu was smiling. It was small, and Atsumu couldn’t decide whether it was smug or not, but it was there, and it caused his own lips to quirk upward as he toed at the dirt with the tip of his shoe.
“So, are ya still my brother, or what?”
“‘Course I am!” Atsumu exclaimed, sounding a bit hurt that Osamu would consider any type of disownment. A loud laugh came in response.
“I mean, do ya want me to call ya my sibling? Sister? Or what? Fuckin’ idiot.” He teased in good humor, a bit of a grin on his face as he nudged at Atsumu’s arm, causing his twin to give him an insistent glare, but he couldn’t keep it up for long before breaking into small laughs all the same.
“Uh, I dunno. Anything, I guess. I just think it’d be neat if no one gave a shit and called me everything.” Atsumu shrugged, not meeting Osamu’s gaze. Osamu hummed thoughtfully, staring out at the mountains just as Atsumu had earlier.
“So, like… ‘That’s Tsumu, she’s my brother and she fuckin’ sucks, he wakes me up at the asscrack of dawn every Saturday just so he can make me practice volleyball, even though we do that every day of the week anyway.’” Osamu spoke, a smug sort of look on his face the entire time, and Atsumu couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad at the content of his words, because it just made his chest feel fuzzy and warm in a way he’d never experienced. It all felt… right. He didn’t feel as if he wanted to squirm out of his skin, but more like he was comfortable within it.
“…Yeah. Like that.” Atsumu nodded softly, unable to repress the wide, ear to ear grin that resided on his face. “I don’t wake ya up that early, though!”
“Liar.” Osamu quipped, standing up and dusting off his pants, “Now c’mon, we’re really fuckin’ late.” He insisted, helping Atsumu up by his arm.
Maybe losing sleep over all of it had been a little dramatic, because Osamu was his number one supporter— he always would be, and keeping things from him never worked for long, anyway. And maybe that was a good thing, for all the times it had settled Atsumu’s mind through conversations like these.