ઇଓ 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 [𝕆𝕤𝕒𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕒]

𝔖𝔢𝔵

"Nice serve!"

Practice was always long.

And when it was days like this, where Osamu was beaten blue and sore all over, he hated his captain the most. No special treatment for the wounded.

Osamu panted as he finished his last lap and collapsed onto the floor. He could see a pair of shoes walking over to him before a large yellow water bottle was placed on the ground. He glanced up and saw Suna smirking at him.

"Wipe that shit off yer face," Osamu grunted, rolling onto his back and downing the water.

"Shut up and stretch, dumbass," Suna replied before walking away.

The boys lined up to practice receives.

Atsumu was as talkative as ever, ignoring the complaints of his teammates and coaches as he rambled on about nonsense. Osamu smiled a bit as he saw his brother in such a cheerful mood. It gave him a reason to stop thinking about his mother.

"Shut the fuck up, Miya," Suna sighed. Atsumu glared but remained silent.

"Alright! Summer is coming up soon which means it's time for training camp!" The coach declared. He passed out yellow waivers to each player. "Have this signed by the end of the week, and I'll see you there!" Osamu glanced at the signature line and grabbed a pen, quickly forging his mother's name. "Oh, come on, Miya. At least wait for me to turn around," the coach sighed, earning a few chuckles while Osamu grinned.

Kita shook his head, looking disappointed.

Aran walked over and crossed his arms.

"You should quit goin' to those parties, they started selling hardcore shit," he advised. Osamu scoffed. "I'm serious, you don't wanna get caught around that shit. One look from the cops and the two of you end up in foster care." Osamu froze when he heard Aran say that. He scratched his ear.

"Shit... yeah, I know. Thanks for the heads up," Osamu whispered. Aran simply walked away to speak with Kita.
Atsumu wrapped his arm around Osamu's shoulders and glanced down at the paper form.

"We goin'?" He questioned. Osamu scoffed.

"Gimme yer form, I'll sign it," Osamu said. Atsumu grinned and handed it to him, watching Osamu quickly write their mother's signature in pen.

"Again?! Seriously, Miya!" The coach yelled. Atsumu giggled and Osamu shrugged innocently.

"Come on, let's get some onigiri," Osamu said, slinging his arm around Atsumu's shoulder as well.

"Hey, Miyas! Wait up!" Osamu and Atsumu turned around and saw Suna grabbing his bag and walking over. He stopped behind Osamu whispered,

"fuck me there," as softly as possible. Osamu gulped and clenched his hand.

"Ya comin' too?" Atsumu asked in a sour tone. Suna lifted his chin.

"So?" Suna hummed. Atsumu glared.

"Ion like 'im, 'Samu," Atsumu muttered.

"Shut up," Osamu snapped, the two starting to fight. Atsumu yelped when Osamu grabbed him, pulling his hair and playfully tugged on it.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" He groaned, elbowing Osamu in the stomach. Osamu coughed and jabbed Atsumu's ribcage.

The boys paused when they saw Suna filming them with his butterfly phone.

That's what Osamu had been calling it.

Since the butterfly stencil on his case caught his eye every time.