Haikyuu imagines

comfort- Osamu

Dating Osamu Miya meant accepting one universal truth: The twins never shut up.

They argued about everything-food, volleyball, whose fault it was they were born two minutes apart, whether water was "too wet," everything.

Most of the time it was harmless. Loud. Annoying. Weirdly affectionate in their own violent way.

You were used to it.

Osamu was used to it.

Until one night... Atsumu went too far. You were in the kitchen of the apartment the twins shared, sitting on the counter while Osamu cooked. Atsumu was sprawled on the couch, pretending not to watch a game while very obviously watching it.

"Yer cuttin' the onions wrong," Atsumu called.

Osamu didn't look up. "There is no 'wrong.' They're onions."

"There is when you're doin' it."

"Shut up." You smiled to yourself, used to their rhythm.

Then Atsumu snorted. "At least I didn't end up playin' second to my own damn brother."

The room shifted. Osamu's knife paused. "...What?"

Atsumu shrugged, eyes still on the TV. "Yer always ditchin' practice early. Always runnin' off. Got a cute partner, a shop dream, a 'normal life.' Guess volleyball ain't enough for ya anymore."

You slid off the counter. "Atsumu, stop-"

"Maybe ya never cared as much as I did," he added, voice sharp now. "Guess I was the only one serious about not bein' a nobody."

Silence.

Heavy.

Thick.

Osamu slowly set the knife down. Didn't yell. Didn't insult him back. Just took off his apron. And walked past you. Straight out the door.

You shot Atsumu a glare that could've killed. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" He scoffed.

"He'll get over it. He always does." You didn't answer. You just grabbed your shoes and ran after Osamu.

You found him sitting on the steps outside the building, elbows on his knees, staring at the pavement like it personally betrayed him. The streetlight painted him in soft gold.

He didn't look up when you approached. So you sat beside him. Close. Not touching yet. Minutes passed.

Then quietly: "...He didn't mean it."

Osamu laughed once. Empty. "He always does." Your chest ached.

You shifted closer, gently resting your head on his shoulder. This time, he didn't pull away. His voice cracked. "I know we fight. I know we say stupid stuff. But that..." He swallowed. "That was low."

You took his hand. His fingers curled around yours immediately, like he'd been waiting for it. "I'm not replacin' him," he whispered. "I just... want somethin' that's mine too." You squeezed his hand.

"You're allowed to want more than one thing." He finally looked at you. Eyes tired. Hurt. Soft.

"...He thinks I'm leavin' him behind."

"You're not."

"You sure?" You leaned in, forehead against his.

"I'm dating Osamu Miya. Not 'Atsumu's twin.' Not 'the other one.' You."

His breath hitched.

He pulled you into him suddenly, arms tight, face buried in your shoulder. You felt him exhale-long and shaky. You rubbed his back slowly. Let him hold you. Let him be quiet.

After a while, he murmured: "...Can we just go home? To your place?"

"Of course." He pressed a kiss to your temple. Soft.

Grateful. "...Thanks for comin' after me."

"Always." And for once, the loudest thing in his world wasn't his twin. It was your heartbeat under his ear.