Ship: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu Fandom: Haikyuu!! Major tags: none Other tags: miya brothers feelings Word count: 841
i unintentionally put a lot of a certain type of imagery in this and just kind of, ran with it, so excuse the overdone repeated metaphor haha. thank you for the excellent prompt!!
***
The closed door means that Osamu doesn't want to be disturbed. This was something he established when he'd first moved into the spare room in middle school. It was something like a reassurance to the then-sulking Atsumu: 'Tsumu, I'm right next door. I won't even close the door unless I really want to be alone, okay?
He'd moved out for privacy, but to be honest, sometimes it doesn't feel like it's made any difference. Like now, when Atsumu throws open the door and strides in like it's his own domain, drops a stack of university brochures on top of Osamu's desk, and flings himself onto Osamu's bed.
Osamu sweeps the brochures off his homework and onto the floor. "No."
"At least look at them before you throw them away!"
"I did. No."
A pillow hits the back of his head. "We're third years now! You can't ignore the future forever!"
Osamu tosses the pillow back over his shoulder and keeps studying his textbook, though his mind isn't really catching the words.
It's not like he's ignoring the prospect of university applications; far from it, in fact. He's talked with the careers counsellor, and spent hours clicking through page after page of university websites. If Atsumu poked around his room, he would probably find that Osamu already has a list.
The careers counsellor had looked over his choices and nodded, then smiled in a wistful kind of way: I suppose this will be the first time you and Atsumu-kun are going your separate ways, hm?
The knowledge didn't surprise him. Osamu's seen the scouts hanging around the stands while they train. He's seen the mail their mother leaves at Atsumu's door when they get home from school. Osamu doesn't ask, and Atsumu doesn't mention it, but they both know that he has the world laid bare before him. And he's always expected this, because Atsumu's brilliance is electric-bright and impossible to miss, a live wire that demands every focus.
Osamu, though, has to make his own light. Atsumu knows this, too.
Hence: the endless brochures, the constant invasions into his room, the ‘Samu, you know any university you want is gonna take you, right? and Osamu, unsure how to tell his twin that the university he wants isn't the one Atsumu wants.
There's a rustling sound behind him on the bed, and then a thump, and Osamu turns to find Atsumu with his arm in the gap between the bed and the wall. With a triumphant shout, he pulls out a dusty and faded Pikachu toy. "I remember this!" he crows, lifting it into the air. "I gave this to you when we were kids, remember?"
"It was mine, and then you hogged it because you liked the ears and wouldn't give it back to me until I moved into this room," Osamu deadpans.
Atsumu throws him an offended look. "No no, I won it in the claw machine when it was our birthday! And you got all sad because you couldn't get one, so I let you have it."
Osamu scrunches his nose. The memory is hazy, but now that Atsumu mentions it, he thinks that he may be right. "You still stole it every night though," he mutters, because he remembers this for sure.
"Yeah, cause I used to get scared of the dark," Atsumu says, without shame. "You never did, so I always figured you could give him up for a bit."
Osamu blinks. It wasn't that he didn't get scared; it was more that it seemed less daunting when there was someone else there, facing it with him.
"And then you moved over here and I thought, ‘Samu probably needs him more than I do now. So you wouldn't get lonely." Atsumu squeezes the long ears between his fingers, and smiles like he’s sharing a secret. "And, I guess I thought it was time that I learned to deal with the scary stuff without relying on you all the time, y'know?"
Atsumu slides to the edge of the bed, feet planted on the floor as he faces Osamu. The Pikachu sits in his lap, plastic eyes peering cheerfully up at him.
When, Osamu wonders, did they start having more than one conversation at once?
His twin reaches over, and places the Pikachu into Osamu's hands.
"You know that-" Atsumu begins, then pauses, his hands still resting on the toy. His voice is quiet in the space between them. "‘Samu, wherever we end up, it's going to be fine. You know that, right?"
I'll be fine.
It's an honesty that neither of them wears often.
Osamu buries his fingers in Pikachu's dusty fur, fingers brushing against Atsumu's. "I'm thinking of trying for a university in Tokyo," he says, and a weight leaves his chest as the words do.
Atsumu's smile flickers ever so slightly, but not, Osamu thinks, from surprise. "Tokyo, huh?" He lets go as he settles back onto the bed. "Tell me all about it, ‘Samu."
FILL: Team Miyuki Kazuya/Oikawa Tooru, G
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Major tags: none
Other tags: miya brothers feelings
Word count: 841
i unintentionally put a lot of a certain type of imagery in this and just kind of, ran with it, so excuse the overdone repeated metaphor haha. thank you for the excellent prompt!!
***
The closed door means that Osamu doesn't want to be disturbed. This was something he established when he'd first moved into the spare room in middle school. It was something like a reassurance to the then-sulking Atsumu: 'Tsumu, I'm right next door. I won't even close the door unless I really want to be alone, okay?
He'd moved out for privacy, but to be honest, sometimes it doesn't feel like it's made any difference. Like now, when Atsumu throws open the door and strides in like it's his own domain, drops a stack of university brochures on top of Osamu's desk, and flings himself onto Osamu's bed.
Osamu sweeps the brochures off his homework and onto the floor. "No."
"At least look at them before you throw them away!"
"I did. No."
A pillow hits the back of his head. "We're third years now! You can't ignore the future forever!"
Osamu tosses the pillow back over his shoulder and keeps studying his textbook, though his mind isn't really catching the words.
It's not like he's ignoring the prospect of university applications; far from it, in fact. He's talked with the careers counsellor, and spent hours clicking through page after page of university websites. If Atsumu poked around his room, he would probably find that Osamu already has a list.
The careers counsellor had looked over his choices and nodded, then smiled in a wistful kind of way: I suppose this will be the first time you and Atsumu-kun are going your separate ways, hm?
The knowledge didn't surprise him. Osamu's seen the scouts hanging around the stands while they train. He's seen the mail their mother leaves at Atsumu's door when they get home from school. Osamu doesn't ask, and Atsumu doesn't mention it, but they both know that he has the world laid bare before him. And he's always expected this, because Atsumu's brilliance is electric-bright and impossible to miss, a live wire that demands every focus.
Osamu, though, has to make his own light. Atsumu knows this, too.
Hence: the endless brochures, the constant invasions into his room, the ‘Samu, you know any university you want is gonna take you, right? and Osamu, unsure how to tell his twin that the university he wants isn't the one Atsumu wants.
There's a rustling sound behind him on the bed, and then a thump, and Osamu turns to find Atsumu with his arm in the gap between the bed and the wall. With a triumphant shout, he pulls out a dusty and faded Pikachu toy. "I remember this!" he crows, lifting it into the air. "I gave this to you when we were kids, remember?"
"It was mine, and then you hogged it because you liked the ears and wouldn't give it back to me until I moved into this room," Osamu deadpans.
Atsumu throws him an offended look. "No no, I won it in the claw machine when it was our birthday! And you got all sad because you couldn't get one, so I let you have it."
Osamu scrunches his nose. The memory is hazy, but now that Atsumu mentions it, he thinks that he may be right. "You still stole it every night though," he mutters, because he remembers this for sure.
"Yeah, cause I used to get scared of the dark," Atsumu says, without shame. "You never did, so I always figured you could give him up for a bit."
Osamu blinks. It wasn't that he didn't get scared; it was more that it seemed less daunting when there was someone else there, facing it with him.
"And then you moved over here and I thought, ‘Samu probably needs him more than I do now. So you wouldn't get lonely." Atsumu squeezes the long ears between his fingers, and smiles like he’s sharing a secret. "And, I guess I thought it was time that I learned to deal with the scary stuff without relying on you all the time, y'know?"
Atsumu slides to the edge of the bed, feet planted on the floor as he faces Osamu. The Pikachu sits in his lap, plastic eyes peering cheerfully up at him.
When, Osamu wonders, did they start having more than one conversation at once?
His twin reaches over, and places the Pikachu into Osamu's hands.
"You know that-" Atsumu begins, then pauses, his hands still resting on the toy. His voice is quiet in the space between them. "‘Samu, wherever we end up, it's going to be fine. You know that, right?"
I'll be fine.
It's an honesty that neither of them wears often.
Osamu buries his fingers in Pikachu's dusty fur, fingers brushing against Atsumu's. "I'm thinking of trying for a university in Tokyo," he says, and a weight leaves his chest as the words do.
Atsumu's smile flickers ever so slightly, but not, Osamu thinks, from surprise. "Tokyo, huh?" He lets go as he settles back onto the bed. "Tell me all about it, ‘Samu."
So he does.