It All Started In Detention

Fifty Four

~Atsumu~

It's dark when Atsumu twists his key into the front door and steps into his silent house. Osamu never fucking responded when he asked how long his friends would be there. Which isn't surprising but still annoying as hell.

So he stayed at Suna's as long as possible, nearing midnight, before finally heading home. If he had planned better and grabbed his school stuff he could have just stayed with Suna another night. Damn.

He moves quietly since his mom is definitely asleep, and he heads upstairs and into his room to drop off his stuff. He looks across the hall at his brother's shut door and frowns as his bag slips off his shoulder and to the floor. He hasn't seen or really talked to Osamu since yesterday. Since he fucked up, jumped to conclusions, and filled Suna's head with a ridiculous idea.

He knows he should apologize. In person, not just over text. But for one, he's still kind of mad at him. For everything. And two, what would he even say? He has no idea.

It probably doesn't even matter since the chances of Osamu being home right now are so slim. Even so, Atsumu sighs and creeps across the hall. He presses his ear to the door and hears nothing except the low hum of a fan, but he thinks he can maybe smell weed. So he gives a quick knock and then grabs the handle and cracks the door open.

The smell hits a bit stronger when Atsumu opens the door; Osamu is fucking lucky their mom's room is downstairs. But Osamu is there, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, a lit joint between his fingers. He has a small fan on his dresser that blows air right over the boy's head and toward an open window. Atsumu can still clearly smell it.

Osamu doesn't really react as Atsumu slips into his room and clicks the door closed behind him. Just remains staring straight across the room: at his unmade bed. Atsumu slowly walks over, watching his brother take a drag of the joint and then slowly exhale the smoke into the air. It gets whisked toward the window instantly.

Atsumu goes by his side and slides down the wall until he is sitting on the floor next to him. They don't say anything at first. Don't even look at each other for a few moments. But eventually Atsumu holds his hand up, finally drawing Osamu's gaze as he silently asks for the joint. Osamu takes another long drag, breathing out slowly and handing the joint off to Atsumu.

Atsumu stares at it for a second, watching the tiny trail of smoke float up from the simmering tip. He doesn't really ever smoke pot, but he has before so he brings it to his lips and inhales slowly, feeling the smoky earthy flavor fill his mouth and lungs. He pulls it back and then exhales, tilting his head back to watch the smoke float above and then get whisked away.

Osamu watches him the whole time and continues to watch as Atsumu takes another slow drag before handing it back. Osamu brings it back to his own lips and takes a drag himself.

"'m sorry." Atsumu ends up breaking the surprisingly peaceful silence the two brothers were sitting in. He looks at his brother, watching him sigh out smoke. He turns his head to meet Atsumu's gaze.

"'m sorry too." Atsumu gives a weak smile, brain beginning to feel slightly fuzzy. Very slightly but still, he feels it there. Osamu hands the joint back after his third drag, eyes staring straight ahead again. Atsumu takes a shorter drag this time, not wanting to overdo it.

"In my defense." He blows out some smoke. "You've been a real asshole lately." Atsumu takes another drag and passes it back.

"'m jus' tryin' ta protect ya, 'Tsumu." Osamu brings it to his lips and breathes in, eyes slipping shut. Atsumu looks at him.

"From what?" Things go quiet, Osamu taking two more hits before Atsumu realizes he's not going to answer him. He frowns, eyes still on his brother even if the gaze isn't returned. "You can't run forever." Osamu pauses, glancing at Atsumu who reaches and grabs the joint back.