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one
Osamu liked stuffed animals. He'd never admit it outright to anyone– likely too afraid to do that after elementary, considering it became viewed as inherently weak to like cute things as a middle schooler. If Rintarou hadn't seen with his own two eyes the collection of stuffies that adorned the twins' bedroom, he probably wouldn't believe Osamu liked that kind of thing either. Osamu always did look the more intimidating out of him and Atsumu, no matter how many times he tried to be the 'nice twin'. Rintarou thought it was endearing, the way Osamu treated each stuffie like his family, keeping them clean and well-kept. There was Ume, the penguin stuffed animal, one of whose eyes were just a simple pink button. Emi, a soft, medium-sized, squishy brown bear. Then, the fox stuffie that Rintarou still had yet to learn the name of, but knew that the twins' grandmother had made herself. It was the most well-worn out of the rest of them, like Osamu had a habit of sleeping with it every night.
It was kind of ugly, in all honesty, with narrowed eyes and a weird smirk, but Rintarou's dislike of it may have stemmed from other emotions entirely. See, without fail, Rintarou would end up at the Miyas' house after nearly every school day. His own parents weren't around enough to care or bother and Rintarou didn't particularly like spending so much time all by himself. Before they moved, it had barely bothered Rintarou, especially considering he only had one close friend. Spending his afternoons and evenings alone had been an accepted fact of his reality and the trend had continued when they moved– At least, until Atsumu dragged Rintarou over for dinner at the Miyas' one night in an attempt to get him and Osamu to reconcile. Their friendship had been rocky in the beginning; Rintarou tended to make people uncomfortable and Osamu was just the type he liked to mess with.
Of course, Atsumu's peace offering ended up backfiring on him, considering how Rintarou and Osamu bonded quickly over making fun of the blond. Since that one fateful dinner and the weeks following, it became an accepted fact that the Miyas and Rintarou would be heading home together. Sometimes Rintarou stayed the night, sometimes he didn't. It depended on how desperate he was for his own bed. Either way, without fail, Osamu would bring out that damned fox plush. Hugging it tightly to his chest while they watched a dumb horror flick or letting it sit right beside them while they played a card game. Rintarou couldn't escape the thing! He sighed to himself as Osamu came trudging downstairs, looking adorably sleepy in oversized, worn soft clothing. The unnamed fox plush was tucked tight under his arm, head poking out in between Osamu's arm and body. Rintarou rolled his eyes. Osamu joined him on the couch, offering Rintarou a crooked half-smile. It made Rintarou's heart skip a beat in his chest only for his fluttery feelings to sour once he caught the fox plush staring at him.
He almost considered glaring back, but that felt petty even for him, so Rintarou managed to control his expression, just barely. “Where's Atsumu?” He wondered instead, choosing to ignore the burning hatred for an inanimate object deep within his soul. Osamu shrugged, hair loose now that all the gel had been washed from it. Rintarou was struck with the urge to reach over and grab a handful- not to hurt Osamu, just to play with. “Upstairs. Says he's got a migraine, so I figure it's best ta let him be,” Osamu explained casually, scooting closer and pressing himself against Rintarou's side. The fox sat on his other side, tucked under Osamu's arm. Rintarou suppressed the familiar flash of jealousy that came with seeing the easy affection between Osamu and a stuffed animal. He was struck with the urge to get an Osamu-signature hug, the kind that would leave him breathless from Osamu's bear grip amongst other things. The type Rintarou saw him give to that damn fox plushie near every night. He sighed softly, settling back against Osamu's side from where he'd unknowingly tensed up.
It was a fruitless hope. Osamu did get cuddlier the more sleepy he was, but Rintarou could only remember being hugged exactly one time, and it wasn't the kind of situation he could easily recreate. Sure, maybe, Osamu would give him a hug if Rintarou asked, but that felt weird. He was so attention-starved that he needed to ask another guy for a simple hug? Rintarou had more dignity than that. He would have to be satisfied with feeling the warmth seep through his hoodie and into his skin from where Osamu had their shoulders, arms, and thighs pressed together. It felt like a pleasant prickling, the kind one gets from holding their hand over a pot of boiling water for just a second too long. It burned, but not enough to where Rintarou would dare move, and like a masochist, he came back for more. “'S yer pick tonight, right, Rin?” Osamu wondered curiously, voice warm and tired. Mentally, Rintarou knew there was no way Osamu was staying up through an entire movie, so he edited his previous choice.
Rintarou had originally been going to choose a horror flick because no matter how many times Osamu denied it, he was quite obviously scared of them, which resulted in him pressing himself closer to Rintarou many times before. It was a foolproof strategy in Rintarou's opinion, but Osamu was clearly tired tonight, and Rintarou wasn't the type to intentionally cause his best friend to lose sleep. “Nah. Think it was 'Tsumu’s, actually, but I don't have anything I've been itching to watch. Your pick, ‘Samu,” Rintarou said with a slight smirk, nudging his knee against Osamu's purposefully. Osamu perked up, lips curling into a bigger grin, and Rintarou instantly knew his meagre sacrifice had been worth it. He would do just about anything to get Osamu to smile at him like that again. Osamu chose a random documentary about the ocean or something, eyes sparkling as he became entirely enraptured by what was happening on screen. Rintarou could care less about fish and was preoccupied with gearing up the nerve to place his arm around Osamu's shoulders. He'd done it a total of three times– didn't lessen the nerves any, though.
Eventually, Rintarou's suffering was put to an end. He wasn't sure how long he'd been agonizing over a decision that, in hindsight, didn't have much consequence, before Osamu's head slowly dropped onto Rintarou's shoulder. Rintarou's breathing stilled right away, becoming shallow as he tried not to freak out about the simple show of trust and care. Osamu was the type of guy who could fall asleep any where, but not necessarily on any one . There were very few people he'd fall asleep on or around. When they were at school, Rintarou had only seen Osamu asleep a handful of times, two of which were on Kita. It had been only mildly surprising that their captain allowed Osamu to get his rest, mouth half-open as he had napped on Kita's shoulder. Kita was like that, effortlessly selfless. Rintarou hadn't even been able to muster up a shred of jealousy– given the chance, he was sure he'd fall asleep on Kita's shoulder, too. Rintarou's fingers took to tapping a nervous staccato on his thigh, careful not to jolt Osamu from his resting place. He was almost certain the spirit of Kita would smite him (with disappointment) if he ended up waking Osamu in a way that wasn't polite and careful.
Rintarou relaxed as time went on, the drone of the narrator from the documentary lulling him into a semi-half asleep state. He struggled with sleeping in optimal conditions, so it was unlikely he was going to fall asleep on the couch, but it was nice to exist with Osamu for a while and just be. By the time the documentary was over, Rintarou felt like staying there in their perfect little bubble, where real life had yet to encroach. There was no looming deadline of his and Osamu's time ending, no crushing secret that Osamu needed to tell Atsumu sooner or later… No worrying about the next year of high school or how they lost Nationals. Unfortunately, the aching and creaking of Rintarou's joints sought fit to make themselves known eventually, and he resolved himself to finally disturb Osamu's peace. “'Samu. Osamu, c'mon, it's time to go to bed,” Rintarou hummed, gently moving his shoulder, and Osamu roused from sleep, blinking slowly. He tilted his head up, still facing Rintarou with a pouty frown.
Rintarou couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him. “C'mon, ya big lug, I can't carry you upstairs,” He teased quietly in a whisper and Osamu scrunched up his nose, rolling his eyes at Rintarou. He stood up slowly like he was moving through sweet molasses, fox plush clutched by the scruff of its neck in his right hand. Rintarou got up as well, ignoring the violent pricks that made themselves known in his calves and shoulder. He'd had worse when it came to limbs falling asleep, even if he winced up the stairs to the second floor of the Miyas'. Osamu yawned as he opened the door to their room, Atsumu's light snores steady. Rintarou wouldn't admit it, but he slept easier here, in Osamu's room with Atsumu's snores comforting him through the worst of the insomnia or nightmares. He made himself comfortable on the futon, despite the fact that there was a perfectly usable guest room across the hall. Osamu didn't question it, far too used to Rintarou sneaking in at all odd hours of the night.
two
The next time Rintarou found himself itching for a hug was in the middle of a maths class he was hardly paying attention to. This was the issue about being so close to Osamu– these kinds of desires completely blindsided Rintarou when they happened and he was usually left hyperventilating over something he didn't even understand. It was slow-coming this time. Occasionally, Rintarou was hit with the desire to touch someone hard and fast– a high five or fist bump usually covered that, but this was the kind of ache that slipped upon Rintarou the way ivy crawled along ancient stone walls. Slowly, but there was no stopping it. Rintarou's metaphorical pesticide was in a different class than him and it didn't matter how tight his skin felt, like he was going to burst out of it at any second, ‘hugging’ was not a viable excuse to leave class. He breathed in and out methodically, staring out the window in a half-catatonic state, watching stray clouds float by absently. The teacher was going on about something important, surely, but Rintarou had scraped by on the skin of his teeth in this class plenty of times before.
The sharp ring of the school bell startled Rintarou out of his daze and he packed up his blank notes quickly, more than ready to leave the class and go to lunch. He was glad that he didn't have to suffer through another forty-five minutes of boring class time and could instead hurry to the courtyard, where Osamu would hopefully be waiting. Rintarou hurried out of the classroom, bag slung over his shoulder as he kept his head down and wormed his way through the crowded halls. Every time someone brushed up against him it felt borderline painful– Rintarou wasn't a touchy kind of guy, even less so from strangers, and the fact that he didn't have Osamu at his side right now made it worse. He ignored the bustling conversations as people made plans with their friends, eventually managing to make it out of the door into the courtyard without throwing up. It was odd– despite the physical sense of discomfort he felt crawling across his skin like tiny bugs, his mind was rather detached from everything that was happening.
Gods, Rintarou hadn't disassociated like this in months. No matter how much he denied it, meeting the Miyas and having best friends for the first time in his short, miserable life, had been doing him a world of good. Rintarou blinked blearily, dumping his bag beside the sun-warmed stone bench that he and Osamu usually occupied. He took a few deep breaths, digging his nails into the cloth of his pants. The dull sensation didn't do much for his fried nerves but it gave his hands something to do other than shake and acted as a grounding point for Rintarou. “Rin?” Osamu's voice washed over him in waves as he sat down next to Rintarou, a few inches away. Rintarou managed a hum in response, or at least, he thought he did. “Ya gonna eat?” Osamu wondered and Rintarou shook his head minutely. His stomach rolled in protest at the thought of food. “Alright, then. 's this okay?” Osamu reached out slowly, holding Rintarou's hand in his own.
Rintarou nodded in relief. Osamu's touch wasn't magical– it felt the same as anyone else's would, the heat concentrated on Rintarou's palm. It was comforting though, familiar. Calloused and strong in the silent way Osamu always was, and Rintarou found solace in the fact that Osamu was unchangeable, like that of an ancient mountain that wouldn't move no matter how rivers beat at its base. Osamu continued to eat in silence, likely not even knowing how much his simple presence helped ground Rintarou. His thoughts still felt indifferent, but it was better. Easier to feel when Osamu was at his side, reminding Rintarou of so many. The rest of the lunch period passed at a usual pace, in silence, although that wasn't unusual when it came to them. Even if Rintarou wasn't so stuck in his own head he couldn't get out, the both of them had little to say on a regular basis. That only changed when Atsumu came around– he brought out the loudness in Osamu. Rintarou had bore witness to the twins chasing each other around and roughhousing during lunch many times before and he was sure the pattern would only continue into their third year of high school.
“Rin. C'mon now, you need to eat,” Osamu coaxed none-too-gently, lifting food to Rintarou's lips and prodding pointedly until Rintarou opened his mouth. He sighed, accepting the bits of rice, meat, and.. broccoli? that Osamu fed him. It tasted good, whatever it was, and Rintarou hummed in contentment as the food settled in his stomach. He hadn't realised how empty he'd felt until he ate something– likely one of the causes for his further disassociation. Osamu's lips quirked up at the corners and he fed another bite to Rintarou, slowly but steadily making sure his best friend got something to eat. Even if Rintarou wasn't usually as out of it as this, feeding each other was a regular occurrence since Osamu learnt that Rintarou rarely brought more food than snacks or sweets. “Wanna talk about it?” Osamu wondered, a thin layer of his usual ‘I don't care’ attitude hiding the thicker, obvious concern Rintarou could feel emanating from his best friend. Rintarou huffed, continuing to eat in silence as he debated telling Osamu about how fucked up he was even more.
See, there wasn't any hiding it– Osamu had eyes and Rintarou wasn't subtle, but he could control the amount of knowledge Osamu had. His best friend was the kind of standup guy who didn't make any assumptions until he had all the facts, and he preferred to get those straight from the source, too. “Nothing is.. wrong, exactly.” How did he explain the way his skin crawled whenever he was touched, just because it wasn't enough touching? Osamu, as far as Rintarou was aware, had always been normal. He didn't seem fucked up in the head, not the way Rintarou was. If it was anyone else, Rintarou might've been jealous of the easy way Osamu had of processing the world, and he'd been resentful of people like Akagi or Gin many times because of that. But, of course, it was Osamu, and Rintarou was unable to find anything but a little relief that Osamu didn't have to live the way he did.
“Okay. If ya say so,” Osamu replied, as unassuming as always, though it did look like some of the concern in his eyes had been put to rest. Rintarou sighed, accepting the bits of food Osamu offered to him. It was nice that Osamu didn't push– but at the same time, Rintarou kind of wished he would. He wanted Osamu to get annoyed and frustrated and ask why Rintarou had these days seemingly out of the blue so much and expect an answer. Rintarou wanted it to happen now, when he was prepared for Osamu to finally get tired of him, rather than halfway into their third year, when Rintarou's guard would inevitably be lowered. “It's been a long week,” Rintarou murmured, allowing himself the comfort of leaning his head against Osamu's shoulder. The other boy hummed in agreement, continuing to munch on a misshapen muffin from his bento box. He'd taken up baking recently, and the results, while delicious, weren't the prettiest. Baking with Osamu was fun and relaxed, though, so Rintarou already liked it more than regular cooking. Osamu was a bit of a drill sergeant when he cooked– but baking was their thing, where they could just learn and be teenagers for a while.
“It's only Monday, Rin,” Osamu replied, a biting edge to his tone, and Rintarou let out a snort before he could help himself. “Shut up, ‘Samu, and give me that muffin,” He grumbled lightheartedly, reaching out and snatching the muffin before Osamu could protest. In all likelihood, if Osamu had really wanted the muffin, he could've kept Rintarou from it, but he was likely relieved that Rintarou was eating of his own free will. Rintarou paid no mind to his thoughts, relishing in his cheap victory as he bit into the banana-nut muffin. It was a little too crumbly and was almost tangy– like someone had gotten too heavy-handed with the salt. All in all, though, it was a good muffin, made even sweeter by the giddy thought that Osamu had also bitten off the muffin. By now, Rintarou was sure they'd shared dozens of indirect kisses (hell, Osamu fed him off of the same chopsticks he used), but it sent a rush through Rintarou every time he noticed. Osamu huffed a laugh, gently elbowing him in the side in retaliation.
“Food thief,” He commented teasingly and Rintarou nodded, taking another bite out of the muffin. The courtyard had filled out decently by now, but no one paid any attention to the two volleyball players sitting a ways away half-tucked in a corner in the shade of the school building. The conversation was a low murmur, more white noise than anything, but if Rintarou concentrated, he could catch snippets of gossip. Girls were discussing their lastest sleepover and the drama involving someone (said with inflexion), a girl and a boy shyly talking about notes with red faces. Normal, everyday school interactions and Rintarou couldn't help but feel separated from it all. Thinking like that would only put him back into a disassociative state, so Rintarou was quick to steer his thoughts in a more self-friendly direction. “I hope yer day gets better from here on out, Rin,” Osamu commented and Rintarou bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. His day had already gotten better, but it wasn't the time to tell him that.
three
Rintarou's vision was swimmy. He was sitting down, or, at least, he was pretty sure he was. The gym floor was cold and it felt nice against his warm skin, although Rintarou couldn't particularly remember why he'd gotten so warm in the first place. The ceiling and the bright lights hurt his head, along with swaying from side to side, and Rintarou closed his eyes instinctively to get rid of the sick sensation. There was a sudden influx of noise– squeaky shoes and people yelling in surprise, presumably, and Rintarou scrunched his nose in protest. The only person he wanted to hear right now was the wind because she was quiet. “Rin? Fuck, Rin, can ya hear me?” Oh, that sounded like Osamu. Rintarou didn't mind Osamu's voice that much, but he still sounded far too loud, words bouncing around the inside of Rintarou's skull like the Windows logo on a computer screen. “Rin, c'mon, open yer eyes. Needa make sure you're okay,” Osamu continued and then Rintarou was being lifted, away from the cool gym floor. He huffed, frowning as he was forced into an upright position. He cracked open his eyes petulantly, glaring at the boy across from him, who looked nothing but relieved.
“Ya alright there, Sunarin?” Akagi asked cheerfully, clapping Rintarou a little too hard on his back, and Rintarou redirected his glare. “Shut up and go hang out with your boyfriend. I'm sure Gin misses ya,” Rintarou complained, rolling his eyes at the way Akagi's cheeks tinted a dark red immediately. The reaction was payment enough for the rough manner in which Rintarou's back was handled, in his opinion. Akagi moved away, muttering something under his breath about how he wasn't dating anyone and even if he was, how would Suna know he wanted it to be Gin, and more that Rintarou didn't care to listen to. He turned his attention back to Osamu, whose hand had made its way to cradle Rintarou's face, fingers splayed out on his forehead. Osamu was frowning, full lips pouting in a way that made Rintarou want to kiss them. “Rin, ya have a fever. You've been playing like this? Gods, ya must be so out of it right now.”
Something in Osamu's disapproving tone was amusing to Rintarou and he giggled, not paying any mind to how Osamu's eyes widened and a faint pink dusted his cheeks. “Alright, break it up. I trust ya can get him home safe, Osamu?” That was Coach’s voice, coming from somewhere up to the right of Rintarou, and Osamu nodded with a serious look on his face. Rintarou sighed. He didn't want to go home, where it was devoid of life and love, empty of anything that would truly make it home. He accepted the hand Osamu held out to him, anyway, because even if Rintarou was delirious from fever, he wouldn't miss a chance to hold Osamu's hand. Osamu led him out of the gym and into their changing rooms, pausing every so often when Rintarou stumbled. He wasn't trying to, keeping his eyes on the ground, but the world swayed every few minutes.
Rintarou got changed in a daze, half-certain his T-shirt was on inside out. However, he wasn't about to ask Osamu for help, because helping your best bro get changed might've been a step too far even for them. Rintarou liked having Osamu close, but not that close, to where he would feel like he was under a microscope. He didn't trust anyone to be that close to him. “Rin? C'mon, let's go. I wanna get ya home before any more time passes, need ta get some medicine in ya,” Osamu said after Rintarou had finished changing, carrying both of their bags as he placed a gentle hand on the small of Rintarou's lower back. He pushed Rintarou forwards and out of the changing room, leading the way towards Rintarou's house. It was times like these that Rintarou thought dorms would've been useful in Inarizaki, but he valued his privacy as much as he wanted a more convenient living location. “Yer an idiot, you know that?” Osamu murmured halfway through their walk home after several long-suffering sighs and Rintarou shrugged. There was a dopey grin on his lips and he was glad that Osamu was behind him, suddenly, not wanting to appear too vulnerable to the boy he loved.
They arrived at Rinterou’s reasonably sized house shortly, with Rintarou managing to fish his housekey from his pocket. It’d been a while since he used it, about three days. Considering the way he had his own drawer of clothes at the Miyas’ and that nothing was waiting for him at the house⎯ he hadn’t seen fit to return. “Rin, what soup are ya thinkin’ ya’d like?” Osamu wondered, dumping their schoolbags at the front of the house and slipping off his shoes quickly. He wandered further into the house towards the kitchen while Rintarou headed to the living room, too tired to spare thought to Osamu’s question. He collapsed face-first into the couch, breathing in the familiar musty scent of the detergent he used on the pillowcases whenever he got around to doing a chore day. It smelled musty, but the entire house did because Rintarou never left any windows open when he left. He didn’t need a robbery in addition to overstimulation and his lovesick heart. Rintarou closed his eyes, thoughts falling blessedly silent as he drifted off to sleep.
The pounding in his head was what woke Rintarou from sleep at first. It was quickly followed by the sound of hustle and bustle, which he was fairly unused to, considering how he lived alone. He lifted his head from where it was plastered to a couch cushion, his mouth filled with cotton balls. Rintarou’s eyes widened briefly at the sight of soup set on a tray, a tall glass sitting beside it, dripping with condensation. The soup had a little steam rising from it and Rintarou sat up, suddenly realising how empty his stomach was. His head swirled because of how fast he’d moved, though it hadn’t been all that fast. Rintarou pulled the tray onto his lap carefully, breathing in and sighing in relief when the steam cleared his nostrils somewhat. He lifted the spoon to his lips and hummed appreciatively. The soup tasted good , far better than anything he could cook up, and definitely better than anything his parents could make. He couldn’t remember the last time one of them made him a homecooked meal.
“Oh! Rin, yer awake!” Osamu came into the room, holding a pan in one hand with a dishrag slung over his shoulder. Rintarou was struck with the imminent thought of how utterly domestic his best friend looked and how he wouldn’t mind it at all if this was the sight that greeted him every time he was sick. “I’m sure yer head is killin’ ya. I’ll go get some medicine,” Osamu said before Rintarou got the chance to reply, turning around and flitting back into the kitchen. Rintarou sighed, continuing to eat his soup. His appetite decreased drastically with each bite he forced down, but he knew it’d be healthier for him in the long run if he ate now. Osamu walked back into the room, pan presumably put up, the dishrag still hanging on his shoulder. He sat down next to Rintarou on the couch, dropping a couple of pain relievers into Rintarou’s open palm. “What time is it?” He wondered after he swallowed the medicine and Osamu’s eyebrows furrowed. “‘Bout, eh, ten in the morning? I already got Ma to call in for us at school,” He replied with a nonchalant shrug and Rintarou gaped at him, exasperated.
“That’s stupid,” He rasped, narrowing his eyes at Osamu, who looked taken aback. “You shouldn’t miss school because I’ve caught a little bug⎯ You’ll get sick, too,” Rintarou grumbled, turning his head back to his soup and glaring at it instead of Osamu. He heard the other boy sigh lowly. “Rin, yer so dumb sometimes. Of course, I couldn’t leave ya here alone, running a fever of 103℉. Yer family and family takes care of each other.” Rintarou’s cheeks warmed and he shoved soup into his mouth so he didn’t have to reply right away, needing precious seconds to gather his thoughts. Osamu thought of him as family. Of course, that had always been underlying subtext, considering how Rintarou lived at his house half the week. It’d never been said outright before, though, and Rintarou’s heart was rabbiting in his chest. He had the urge to turn and bury himself in Osamu’s side like a frightened child going to their mother for comfort but managed to restrain himself.
“Oh…” Rintarou murmured, trying to mask the awe in his voice. Osamu leaned over, knocking their shoulders together gently. Rintarou bit back a smile, continuing to eat the soup that Osmau had made him, safe & content in the knowledge that he would not be left alone today. Getting over a sickness was never fun, but Rintarou had forgotten how much easier it was when there was someone else looking out for you. Over the course of two and a half days, Osamu took care of Rintarou’s every need. He made sure Rintarou ate enough and took medicine on the proper schedule, even forcing him to get in the shower at the end of day number two. Rintarou couldn’t ask for a better best friend and his heart ached with the thought of how that’s all he was⎯ a best friend, family, someone probably like a brother to Osamu. Part of him wanted to stay sick for longer, just so he could enjoy this side of Osamu before it was inevitably gifted to someone else, who would have no knowledge of what it was worth.
four
It was a bitter, cold morning. Fall crept on the heels of summer swiftly and Hyogo was reduced to freezing temperatures far too soon, in Rintarou’s opinion. The sun had barely risen, frost glittering on the grass and sidewalk as the Rintarou waited on the twins to come out of the house. On principle, Rintarou would like to say that Atsumu took longer in the mornings, but he wasn’t in the habit of lying. Osamu was slow to wake in the mornings and usually spent half his time eating⎯ it was an endearing habit whenever Rintarou woke up at the Miyas’, but perhaps, not the most convenient when Rintarou was trying to warm life into his cold, dead hands at five o’clock in the morning. Sure enough, Atsumu bounded down the steps leading into the Miya residence, a cheery grin plastered on his face. Rintarou narrowed his eyes and burrowed further into the raised collar of his jacket and the scarf he’d wrapped around it. He never understood how Atsumu could be a morning person, but at times like these, where Rintarou was sure even the birds didn’t want to be awake, it gave him a particular sense of annoyance.
“Oh, ya look cold, Sunarin,” Atsumu drawled mockingly, flaunting his alien-esque ability to withstand cold the way he did every fall and winter. Rintarou wasn’t so lucky. Even when he didn’t live in Hyogo, he still started dressing warmer the instance September hit. Rintarou was affected by the cold temperatures easier than his friends, including Osamu. Just like Atsumu, Osamu could go out in the cold for as long as he liked with only minimal irritation. “Shut up, ya hot-blooded freak,” Rintarou grumbled, reaching out a hand from where it was safely cocooned in a pocket of warmth to shove at Atsumu’s shoulder. The blond threw his head back and barked a laugh as he moved out of reach of Rintarou, taking joy in the suffering of others as he always did. Rintarou scowled, pulling his hand back and placing it into his pocket. He grumbled under his breath a few choice insults about where exactly Atsumu could stick his superhuman ability to withstand cold.
Osamu came trudging down the steps, onigiri in hand and eyes half-lidded. He looked like he could fall asleep on his feet, but at the same time, at least he looked warm. “There ya are. Took forever, scrub, left Sunarin shiverin’ out here in the cold!” Atsumu commented teasingly and Rintarou rolled his eyes, turning and beginning to walk down the sidewalk. The twins’ bickering faded to background noise as it often did when Rintarou wasn’t paying attention, stepping carefully over each crack in the sidewalk. It sounded like white noise to him half the time, as used to it as he was. Eventually, Osamu caught up with him, walking side-by-side with Rintarou instead of behind him with his brother. “Here ya go, Rin,” Osamu murmured, fishing out a pair of rolled-up gloves from his pocket. Rintarou blinked, arching an eyebrow at Osamu, who had the gall to look bashful. “You always complain about yer hands bein’ cold, so I figured I’d bring ya some gloves.”
He stared at Osamu for a moment longer, his feet taking him towards the school on autopilot, before reaching out to grab them. The gloves were soft and clearly hand-knitted. They were made by someone experienced, though, likely the twins’ grandmother, the same wonderful lady who had a habit of pinching Rintarou’s cheeks and who made Osamu’s unnamed, evil fox plush. Rintarou’s lips curved up and he was grateful for the scarf and collar covering his lips⎯ He didn’t need Osamu seeing how obviously pleased the idea of gloves specifically for him made him feel. Osamu looked a bit jittery as Rintarou slipped the gloves on, his gaze shifting behind them at Atsumu every few seconds. He mouthed something Rintarou couldn’t quite catch, rolling his eyes before his attention was returned to his friend. “These are amazing, ‘Samu,” Rintarou sighed happily, flexing his fingers in their newfound warmth. He placed his hands back in his pockets, hoping that they’d bake before he had to bring them out into the crisp air of their volleyball gym.
“Did Obaachan make them? I’ll have to tell her thanks the next time we go up to her house,” Rintarou commented pleasantly, his insides warming at the thought of seeing Grandma Miya. By now, he considered her a replacement for his own grandparents. One half, he’d never been introduced to, and the other half had died long before he was born. Osamu’s face pinched oddly like he’d tasted something sour, before smoothing out into nonchalance. “Yeah, I told her about how yer always complainin’ and she just had to make some gloves for her poor sweetykins,” Osamu teased playfully and Rintarou snickered, leaning over so he could nudge his elbow in Osamu’s side. He wanted to wrap Osamu in his embrace, instead. Atsumu scoffed from behind them, loud enough that it sent a wave of tension over Osamu. Rintarou tensed up in response, too, unused to Osamu letting something like that from Atsumu affect him so obviously. “Something wrong?” Rintarou said loudly, asking Atsumu without turning around.
“No, ‘course not. Just ready to get to practise, where we don’t hafta talk so much,” Atsumu said pointedly, tossing a glance at Osamu as he shouldered in between the pair. Rintarou stared after Atsumu’s back in confusion, barely noticing it when they passed through the school gates. He glanced at Osamu, ready to make some quip about how Atsumu must’ve hit his head waking up that morning harder than usual, but Osamu was shock-white, mouth set in a firm line. Rintarou blinked, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to figure out what exactly Atsumu could’ve meant by his statement. It was seemingly harmless but Rintarou knew the twins well enough to know when they were talking in code, and ‘ talk ’ had clearly been code for something. It was a matter of what it stood for and why it affected Osamu so much⎯ he was someone whose feathers Rintarou rarely saw ruffled and, then, that was usually in volleyball matches. Rintarou tried to push the incident out of his mind as they went into the changing rooms, resolving to focus on practise and that alone.
Rintarou’s resolve was not that good. He’d been distracted throughout all of practise, noticing in particular how much Atsumu and Osamu kept sniping at each other. Little petty, pointless comments about each other’s skill (or lack thereof) and insults that kept devolving into shouts of ‘scrub’ and ‘idiot’. The coach eventually ordered all three of them to do a lap around the gym to cool off and Rintarou went willingly. He was desperate to escape the stifling atmosphere that permeated every corner of Inarizaki’s volleyball gym. Even now, the twins were as far apart as they could possibly be, and Rintarou was torn between annoyance and confusion. This spiteful spat of theirs was childish, especially when neither of them would deign to inform their supposed best friend over what had gotten them into such a tizzy. The morning had been relatively normal except for Atsumu’s offhand comment and now everything was thrown off the rails. Rintarou sighed, sliding down the freezing gym wall. His breath came out in little white-grey clouds of air, shining bright against the sun before dissipating in the wind. The twins sat on either side of him, a few feet away from Rintarou each.
They were so intent on avoiding each other that they were avoiding him, too, because when was Rintarou not caught in the middle of one of these stupid, stupid fights? “Are you two going to bicker like five-year-olds all day or are you gonna work this out like adults? You know, Coach isn’t gonna let ya back into the gym until you worked your stuff out,” He grumbled, loud enough for them both to hear, and Osamu huffed. “Well, maybe if he wasn’t such a jerk ⎯” Atsumu scoffed, cutting Osamu’s sentence off. “Oh, I’m the jerk? Yer the one who ain’t honest with yourself!” He retorted angrily, turning so that he faced Osamu. The latter turned as well, a dark scowl on his face. Rintarou grimaced, sliding further down the wall as the two continued to argue. Sometimes, it was awfully frustrating being the one who was expected to play peacemaker between the twins. He was nothing like Aran, and often tried to instigate meaningless arguments between them, but when the twins were seriously fighting?
Rintarou was the one who was called. “Gods, I’m goin’ back inside. I don’t have the energy to deal with your crap today. Work it out or don’t⎯ I don’t care, as long as you’re civil during practise,” He snapped after another five minutes of yelling, pushing himself off of the gym’s wall and walking away. The twins lapsed into quiet after his statement, but Rintarou didn’t hold out hope that it would work. He walked back inside the gym, snagging Akagi for some serve-and-receive practise. Their freak duo may have not been here to practise but Rintarou wasn’t an idiot⎯ he wasn’t going to waste precious time to get better at his sport. The coach gave him a rankled look but Rintarou just shrugged in reply, allowing him to make his own conclusions about what went down outside. At least, he couldn’t hear the twins’ yelling over the comforting sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the sound of volleyballs bouncing against the walls or someone’s arms.
+ one
“You know, Obaachan, I hate that fox plush you made for Osamu,” Rintarou hummed playfully, cradling the phone to his ear. He’d originally called the twins’ grandma to thank her for the gloves, but they’d gotten wildly off-topic right from the start, and he had yet to say anything. “The one with the smirking face and the narrowed eyes? I swear, that thing hates me.” Okay, perhaps, a bit of a lie, since Rintarou was certain the animosity was one-sided, but Obaachan didn’t need to know that. He wanted that woman to still have a shred of respect for him by the time this conversation was over. “Oh, is that why Osamu was wanting to know how to make stuffed animals a while back?” Obaachan wondered curiously and Rintarou blinked. For starters, since when had Osamu known how to sew? Why hadn’t he ever told Rintarou? Sure, he would’ve given Osamu a little crap for it, but that was typical between them. “Osamu talks about it all the time⎯ I think he calls it Tarou?” Obaachan continued cheerfully, oblivious to Rintarou’s internal turmoil.
Rintarou’s cheeks flushed a fierce red and he swallowed the squeak building in the back of his throat, poorly disguising it as a cough. “Oh, really, Obaachan?” He asked, voice a good two or three octaves higher than it normally was because of how flustered he was. Obaachan let out a gentle chuckle. “Osamu⎯ Ah, Osamu didn’t happen to also ask for help on some gloves recently, either, Obaachan?” Rintarou wondered, fumbling over his words, and Obaachan let out a thoughtful hum. “Oh, I think he did! I recall him asking for the patterns a few weeks ago⎯ Strange. In all the years he’s been on this Earth, I’ve never known that boy to get chills.” She commented and Rintarou collapsed back on his bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers the twins had helped him plaster to the ceiling of his bedroom before he started sleeping over at their house more and more.
“Obaachan- I, uh, I think I gotta go,” Rintarou managed to say, eyes wide with the information that had been carelessly tossed into his lap. Obaachan said her goodbyes and then she hung up the phone, allowing Rintarou’s grip to go slack as he continued to stare at the ceiling. Osamu knew how to sew and knit, apparently. He knew how to sew and knit and he made Rintarou handmade gloves because he knew that Rintarou always got particularly cold whenever it was a bit nippy outside. Osamu had an ugly, smirking fox plushie that he made himself, however many months ago when he asked Obaachan for help, and he named it after Rintarou. Rintarou let out a breathless laugh. Osamu, his best friend, had a plushie Rintarou had seen him sleep with every night, that was named after him. He almost couldn’t believe it. Rintarou sat up, suddenly, struck with the need to get to the Miyas’ residence as quickly as possible. He had a boy to ask a few questions.
Rintarou skidded down the stairs and slipped on his sneakers as fast as he could manage, barely remembering to grab a coat before he was dashing out the door. Halfway down the sidewalk, he paused, turning back around and locking the door to his house. Rintarou might’ve been in a moment like something out of a shoujo manga but he still wasn’t going to forget to lock his house. Robberies were serious events, people. He continued down the sidewalk at a more manageable pace⎯ still faster than his usual speedwalk, but not quite a mad dash to cover the distance between the Miyas’ and his house. Rintarou breathed a sigh of relief when the Miyas’ residence finally came into view, his steps speeding up slightly. He hopped the steps two at a time, never more grateful for his height than at this moment, when it was helping him skips steps as he tried to get to the boy who held his heart in the palm of his hand. Rintarou opened the door, slipping inside and sneaking past the kitchen, where he could hear Atsumu and Mama Miya in conversation. He loved them, but quite frankly, didn’t have the time to waste on pleasantries.
“Osamu!” Rintarou burst into the twins’ bedroom, slightly out of breath, and Osamu blinked slowly. He was sitting on the lower bunk, a manga in his hand, and ‘Tarou’ at his side. “Hey, Rin,” Osamu said casually, lifting his hand in an adorable little finger wave. Rintarou wanted to smother him in affection. “Hi,” Rintarou greeted shortly, shrugging off his coat and dropping it to the floor. He moved to sit next to Osmau, climbing onto the bed and settling at his best friend’s side. Normally, Rintarou put a few inches between them that Osamu slowly decreased under the pretence of sharing his manga, but he didn’t bother this time. If Osamu noticed the way their sides were pressed together, he didn’t make mention of it. “So, you wanna tell me the name of that ugly fox?” Rintarou asked, a hint of teasing to his tone, and Osamu stiffened. He caught Rintarou’s eye, trying to feign confusion and doing so horribly. There were very few expressions that Osamu could perfectly replicate when he didn’t mean them.
“Cause, you know, I just got off the phone with Obaachan… And she had some very interesting things to tell me,” Rintarou smirked playfully and Osamu’s eyebrows furrowed as he scowled. He looked afraid, and it was such a surprise for Rintarou that he didn’t know quite what to say to ease Osamu’s fears. “You- Don’t tease me about this, Rin,” He said instead of whatever he’d been going to say originally, tone almost pleading, and Rintarou shook his head. “I’m not. Promise, cross my heart, and swear to die. I wouldn’t tease ya about this, ‘Samu,” He assured honestly, reaching out a hand, palm facing upwards. Osamu stared at it for a few seconds before tentatively placing his hand atop Rintarou’s, interlacing their fingers carefully. Rintarou smiled, then, a true smile. The kind he never normally let Osamu see for fear of his emotions running rampant across his face and being far too obvious. There was no fear here anymore, not when Osamu’s hand was clasped firmly in Rintarou’s own.
“...Ya made me gloves, too, huh? You really are whipped,” Rintarou teased half an hour later, Osamu’s body weight crushing him as he laid on top of Rintarou. It was nice, the burning dispersed so evenly throughout his entire body that Rintarou hardly noticed it. The touch dulled every buzzing thought beneath Rintarou’s skin and it was a relief to know that this- this was what he wanted every time he wanted a hug from Osamu. “Oh, shut up, ya idiot,” Osamu grumbled, his ear in place directly over where Rintarou’s heart lay pounding. Of course, it belonged to Osamu, and Rintarou figured his boyfriend knew that, from the way he seemed so smug, just laying there and listening to it beat steadily. Just for you, Rintarou wanted to say, it’s all for you. That might’ve come on a bit strong, though, so he bit his tongue.
-end.