WARNINGS: graphic depiction of autistic meltdown, self injurious behavior
It was common knowledge in the Inarizaki Volleyball Club that Miya Atsumu easily threw fits when the team lost, and the team were liberal in their jokes about it. Atsumu, true to form, never let on how much he hated those jokes. He couldn't help that he got so upset, that it left his mind screaming at him until the only thing he could do was scream back. But he had to keep up the appearance of being a cocky, self obsessed asshole.
The only person on the team who didn't participate in teasing of that particular subject was his twin brother Osamu. The two fought and bickered about everything, so on the surface that was surprising, but the fact that they were twins meant Osamu knew why those fits happened, and that it wasn't just Atsumu being a little bitch. He knew that those weren't just "fits" or "temper tantrums," but autistic meltdowns that, once out of sight from everyone else, became heartbreaking to watch. He knew that Atsumu wasn't crying because he was a sore loser, but because in his brain, the idea of loss was hard, especially when he knew they played their best.
The team had just lost a practice match against Fukurodani, and it hit Atsumu especially hard because Bokuto was gone and they still bested them. By a lot. It didn't make sense to his logic, even seeing each and every point scored by either team didn't soothe his whirlwind thoughts. Both teams had chuckled a bit when he got mad as the last set ended, but Osamu just braced himself because if he let himself show that much emotion in public?
This wasn't going to be pretty.
Atsumu's hand didn't untangle from his hair as they got ready, only letting go to slip off and on his shirt and even then, it immediately found its spot again, knuckles beginning to turn white. They got into Osamu's car (the only of the twins who drove, because the other despised it) and as they pulled away, the blond's aggravated stimming grew. By the time they pulled into the driveway of their house, he was moving the entire car with the force of his rocking.
Their parents weren't home, so Osamu didn't have to bother informing them of the situation, instead leading his brother toward the overstuffed armchair, rarely occupied by anyone by anyone but the shorter (there was very little difference but it was there). The grey haired twin wrapped his arms around the other, putting a weighted lap pad in his lap and turning on some music. Atsumu didn't appear to be getting better, but he wasn't getting worse so it would have to do. However, when he attempted to pry the blond's fingers out of his hair, he was met with a short sharp yell. The hands moved, but they hit the forehead of their owner once, before moving to his legs and harshly slapped his thighs.
Shit, that's not what Osamu meant to happen, he wanted his brother to stop hurting himself and instead he made it worse, which meant the blond was really fucking upset. He didn't dare to try and stop the other from hitting his legs, it would just make it worse, so instead he sat with his arms around his twin, waiting for him to tire himself out.
30 minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Miya walked in the door, to be met with their eldest son still rocking harshly with his faced squished into his knees, hands red and they assumed they could find matching bruises on his thighs. Their youngest was laying across his twin's back, providing DPT and quietly saying nonsense to the other (not whispering, though, Atsumu hated whispering).
Upon hearing the door open, Osamu turned his head to them, showing fatigue. "Hard game, he's been like this since it was over," he said to them, as his mom came and held his brother's arm and his dad went to make dinner (probably onigiri, Osamu may not be autistic but he got his own fair share of sensory issues that volleyball wasn't always considerate of, and that was the easiest thing for the two to eat right now). The woman reached out her free hand and rubbed her grey-haired son's back, knowing that watching and helping through a meltdown as bad as this looked was tiring, especially after a game.
Upon seeing both of her son's falling asleep, she helped Osamu up and lied him horizontally across the chair, before moving his twin (already mostly asleep) beside him, the two snuggling together as they rarely did outside of when they needed comfort. She then grabbed the bags in the entryway, moving them to their exhausted owner's rooms so they didn't have to worry about it when they awoke.
Her husband came out of the kitchen to see her watching their sleeping sons, standing behind and wrapping her in his arms. After a moment, he told her to dish herself up, that he would wake the boys. As she went, he walked over and ran his fingers, first through Osamu's hair, and then Atsumu's, waking them up without risking over stimulating them. The twins groggily sat up and moved to grab their dinner, sitting down and wordlessly listening to their parent's stories of their work day. They didn't contribute, but by the time they finished Osamu had let out a few chuckles and Atsumu was sleepily smirking.
Their mother declared that she would do the dishes and ordered the two to bed, but not before their father checked over the blond for any injuries that needed treating.
There were a few scratches, mostly bruises this time, so the oldest Miya ushered him off to bed, watching the two meet in the bathroom to brush their teeth and wordlessly nudge and poke fun at each other.
The two exhausted boys then went into their respective rooms, putting on their most sensory-friendly pyjamas, huddling under their weighted blankets, hugging into the stuffies that the two had had since infanthood and were a source of comfort and security for them, and drifted to sleep to their respective noise machines (Atsumu to soft music and Osamu to the sound of rain).
Everything would be okay.
[A/N: As mentioned before, this is in no way a how-to on handling an autistic meltdown, each person and each meltdown is different and it's up to the person on how, or if, they want you to help]
