It’s raining, and it’s way too cold to be eating the ice pops that Osamu bought him for his birthday. But here they are, ice pops in one hand and umbrellas in the other as they walk home from the corner store.
“What time were you born?” Osamu asks. Their umbrellas brush.
“A little after midnight,” Suna says.
“Late night, then,” Osamu hums. “Early practice tomorrow too.”
Suna shrugs. He follows the shadow of raindrops as they flow down the fabric of his umbrella and drip onto the sidewalk. “Maybe I’ll just sluff practice tomorrow,” he says. “Do you think Atsumu would give me a free pass for my birthday?”
He smiles as Osamu falters for a moment. “I really think you should come to practice tomorrow.”
“So you have planned something,” Suna declares. “I knew it.”
Osamu knocks his umbrella against Suna’s with a groan. “You can’t let anythin’ be a surprise, can ya?”
“It’s still a surprise.” Suna bites down on his ice pop, which makes Osamu cringe. “I don’t know what you’ve got planned.”
He hears Osamu mumble something about how it's still not the same as they approach Suna’s house.
“Thanks for the ice pops,” Suna says as they come to a stop outside his door.
“Anythin’ for the birthday boy,” Osamu grins. His mouth is tinted green. “Don’t forget about me when you find your soulmate.”
“No chance,” Suna says, matching the smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He watches Osamu as he starts the walk back to his house, smiling when he turns around and waves one last time before turning the corner and disappearing.
Shaking out his umbrella before entering the house, he’s instantly comforted by the warm air inside.
His mom is on the couch, watching something on the television. The couple on screen is speaking English. He can pick out a few words: goodnight, California, sun.
He toes off his shoes and calls out, “What are you watching?”
“Hello to you too,” his mom replies. “It's an old American movie. Singing in the Rain.” As Suna approaches, she pats the couch. “All this rain has me feeling romantic.”
“All this rain has me feeling wet,” Suna says, dropping down next to her and laying his head on her lap. Her fingers start to card through his hair.
“Your mouth is all blue,” she says.
“Osamu bought me an ice pop,” Suna says distractedly. The man on screen is jumping in puddles and singing in English, swinging his umbrella around. Suna grimaces at the way the rainwater splashes up his legs. “Why is he doing that?”
“He just kissed the love of his life,” his mom says. “He’s happy.”
“He just looks wet to me,” Suna insists.
“Stop frowning like that, or it’ll stick.” She pushes a thumb down on his forehead. “Are you excited for tonight?”
She sighs, squishing Suna’s cheeks between her fingers. “Do you want me to wait up with you?”
“No,” he says, swatting at her hands. “What’s if it’s in a weird place?”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, little man,” she coos. Suna rolls his eyes. “Are you hoping for anyone specific?”
“No,” he says, twisting himself out of her hold. He rises from the couch with a terse, “I’m leaving.”
His mother studies him for a moment. “Alright,” she says with a slight, knowing smile. “Good night, Rin. Happy birthday.”
“Good night,” he calls as he heads down the hallway to his bedroom.
A few minutes after midnight, a name will appear on his body. The family name of his soulmate: the one individual the universe has decided is his perfect match, the love of his life, the wind beneath his wings, et cetera.
That’s in… three hours. He could wait up. He could do homework, or he could read a book, or he could watch a few episodes of some new shitty teen show on Netflix so he can know what everyone’s talking about on Twitter.
Or he could go to sleep now. It’s not like the mark is going anywhere.
He decides to go to bed.
When his alarm startles him awake, he feels the same as he did the night before. He’s heard that some people feel itching or burning where their soulmark has appeared. Some people claim to have a feeling of enlightenment or some other cosmic bullshit like that.
He just feels like Suna. (Tired.)
He sits up and stretches- bends his torso back and forth just to see how far he can go. He does a quick scroll through a few birthday wishes that have already come chiming in, as well as a message from Osamu claiming that he can’t walk with Suna today because Atsumu dragged him to practice early- which, sure. He takes a second to just kind of sit there and stare at the wall before he finally pulls himself out of bed and starts to search for his soulmark.
He searches his arms first, then his legs. He heads to his mirror and studies his face. No luck. He pulls off his shirt.
It’s there. Right above his heart, in neat kanji.
He finds his mom in the kitchen wielding her coffee cup. She’s dressed for work, hair up in a ponytail that sways when she turns to face him, looking him up and down. “Where’s your shirt?”
He gives her a look before pointing to his chest.
“Oh sweetheart,” she gasps. A bit of coffee sloshes out of her cup onto the floor. “I’m so happy for you-“
“No, mom. This is not happy.” Suna drapes himself against the counter. “There’s two of them. How am I supposed to know which one it is?”
“Ah,” his mom says, taking a sip from her coffee. “It’s Osamu though, right?”
“I just said I don’t know,” Suna groans. He smacks his head down on the counter a couple times. “Also, yes mom, it is my birthday today. Thank you so much for remembering.”
“Sorry, sorry.” She sets her coffee down and pulls Suna off the counter into a bone-crushing hug. “Happy birthday,” she coos as she gives another squeeze.
“Okay, okay,” Suna laughs, attempting to pull himself out her arms. She holds him tighter still.
“Are you going to tell them?” she asks, rubbing her face in his hair.
Suna grimaces. “I don’t want to. Do you think they’ll be mad?”
“It’s normal to keep your name a secret until you know for sure,” she says. “Do you think they’ll be mad?”
He considers for a moment. “No?”
Because his mom is right- it’s not like it’s abnormal to not share your name with others. You don’t want to assume it’s one person before they have their soulmark, only for it to end up to be someone else. Especially when you know two people with the name on your chest. Especially when those two people are your closest friends. Especially when those two people are identical.
“You sound so sure of yourself,” his mother deadpans before finally releasing him.
I’ve never been less sure about anything in my entire life, he thinks as he drags himself back to his room to put a shirt on.
The gym is dark from the outside when he arrives for practice. He smiles for a moment at his team’s theatrics before schooling his face back into his normal blank expression.
He opens the gym door, and the lights flick on.
He’s swarmed by his teammates. All of them give him a hug or a pat-on-the-back and wish him a happy birthday before they all come back to pile on him at once in a giant group hug. At some point, a “birthday princess” crown has been placed on his head.
“Suna!” Atsumu shouts over the rest of the team’s chatter. “Show us yer mark!”
“No,” Suna says, wriggling himself out of the group hug.
“What! Why?” Atsumu exclaims.
“Because I don’t want you sticking your box-bleached hair into my business,” Suna says.
“You’re no fun,” Atsumu whines and hooks an arm around Suna’s to drag him to the center of the court where a birthday cake sits on a folding table, candles burning proudly. The rest of the team follows excitedly.
“Blow out your candles,” says Coach Kurosu, patting him on the back. “Get this over with, so we can actually play some volleyball today.”
“Wait!” exclaims Riseki. “On three!” The rest of the team shouts their agreement.
Suna closes his eyes as his teammates chant.
He supposes he should probably make a wish.
He really just wishes he could’ve been born after the Miya twins. That would really make life easier for him.
He blows out the eighteen candles as his team cheers around him.
“What didja wish for?” he hears Osamu ask him when the cheering dies down into excited chatter about the flavor of the cake.
Suna turns to face him. “I didn’t wish for anything.”
Osamu quirks a brow at him. “Really, nothin’?”
“Fine, you got me,” Suna drawls. “I wished that you would buy me more ice pops.”
Osamu rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I already made you this cake. Don’t push your luck.”
“Well, lucky me.” Suna slowly matches Osamu’s small smile. “I really did get a surprise today.”
“Suna only gets cake if he shows his soulmark!” Atsumu yells, startling the two of them out of their moment.
“Nobody gets cake,” says Coach, placing a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder, “until we have a real practice. I don’t want anyone throwin’ up on this court. Start stretchin’.”
There’s a few moans of protest as they pair off for warm ups. Osamu is still smiling as the two of them begin to stretch, Suna’s birthday crown still perched on his head.
His mom is in the same spot he’s been finding her lately: watching an American movie in the living room.
Suna leans over the back of the couch. “Is this all you do while I’m gone? Watch movies?” he questions.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you say that, or else I’d have to stop feeding you and clothing you and housing you-”
“Okay, okay,” Suna quickly says to stop that lecture before it begins. He directs his attention back to the movie.
A couple is kissing in the pouring rain, a cat squeezed between them. Rain is dripping down their faces as their lips meet again, and again, and again.
“Poor cat,” Suna says. “Look how wet it’s getting.”
“The cat is happy to be there because they’re in love,” his mother huffs. “How was your day today?”
“Good,” he hums. “It would be better if we went to Ippudo tonight.”
“I think that could be arranged,” she says with a smile, as if that had been the plan the whole time.
The couple on the screen fades to black as the music swells. The End.
“Did you decide to tell them?” his mom asks.
He thinks of the way the twins’ hair curls a little bit when it’s wet, and what rain water would taste like pressed between lips.
“No,” Suna says. “I just want to be sure it’s actually him.”
It’s not until he’s stepped out of the train at Motomachi station with his mom that he realizes what he’s said.
He’s lying on the floor of Osamu’s bedroom a few days later, switching mindlessly through different apps as Osamu sits at his desk, attempting to study for an English test. Suna is helping him by softly kicking him every few minutes to remind him he’s still there.
“How do you spell rain in English?” Osamu asks softly, nose scrunched in confusion.
Suna spells it out slowly and bumps his foot against Osamu’s leg again. This time, Osamu grabs his ankle and holds it for a moment. Suna looks up from his phone to see Osamu gazing at him.
“Do you think you know who it is?” Osamu asks after a moment. “Your soulmate.”
“I’m not sure,” Suna says. It feels like a lie, even though it isn’t.
“Well do you know anyone with the name?”
Suna squints at him. “You sure are curious today.”
“Can I not be curious about you?” Osamu releases his ankle. He slides out of his desk chair and moves to lay down next to Suna. Their arms brush.
“I guess,” Suna says. He places his phone down on his stomach and enjoys the warm line of Osamu next to him. He thinks of sopping wet clothes and how to spell R-A-I-N. “What do you think about kissing in the rain?”
“What?” Osamu laughs. Suna can feel the vibration of it against his arm.
“They always do it in movies,” Suna says, “but it looks kind of gross.”
“I dunno,” Osamu says. “Why’re you thinking about that?”
“You were the one asking about rain,” Suna huffs, poking his elbow sharply into Osamu’s side. Osamu laughs and rolls over to trap Suna underneath him. Suna groans and smacks him on the back until he eases up and sits back. His legs still hold Suna’s underneath him.
He’s smiling softly. Suna’s heart skips a beat.
“People have been askin’, ya know,” Osamu says. “About your soulmark.”
“Who?” Suna laughs. “Atsumu?”
He expects Osamu to laugh or at least roll his eyes at the mention of his brother. “Yeah,” Osamu says instead, moving off Suna’s legs. He’s frowning slightly. “Atsumu.”
Osamu doesn’t ask him about soulmates again.
Atsumu asks him every chance he gets.
“Sunarin,” he’ll say, “I’ll give you 1000 yen if you show me.”
“Sunarin,” he’ll say, “Gin showed the team his soulmark, ya know.”
“Sunarin,” he’ll say, “what if I know someone with the name? You coulda been with your soulmate this whole time!”
“Atsumu,” he always says, “shut up.”
It’s just the two of them walking home from practice. Osamu had to stay behind to retake his English test (he ended up forgetting the word for rain).
“Sunarin,” Atsumu starts.
“Shut up,” Suna says.
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”
“You were going to ask me about my soulmark,” Suna says. “I thought I would save you the effort.”
It’s a warm day. The sunshine is a welcome surprise after the last few days of rain. It’s definitely too nice of a day to be spending with Atsumu.
“Suna, I just don’t understand why ya won’t tell us,” Atsumu says, idly kicking a rock that he found on the sidewalk near the corner store.
“It’s none of your business,” Suna says, gritting his teeth at the way the rock scrapes against the concrete. “That’s why.”
“What if I told you I knew someone who wanted to be your soulmate?” Astumu asks. He kicks the rock towards Suna.
“Is this one of those ‘asking for a friend’ situations?” Suna asks. He kicks the rock into the road just to see Atsumu pout. “Or are you actually talking about a real person?”
“A real person!”
“Well, then you tell them to ask me themselves.”
Astumu groans. “Trust me, that’ll never happen.”
“Then stop asking.”
It’s quiet for a moment.
“2000 yen, Sunarin. I’m not kiddin’.”
He’s in an alleyway. Rain drips down the sides of the buildings and pools in the cracks of the cobblestone street.
He’s looking for something? A cat. There’s boxes everywhere, but all of them sealed. If he could just get into one of them...
“I brought this for you,” he hears.
Suna startles and turns around.
It’s Osamu. He’s wearing a tan coat soaked through with rainwater. The water drips down his face and lands on the road. He’s holding out a lime-flavored ice pop. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m looking for something,” Suna says. He needs to hurry, but he can’t seem to look away from Osamu. Osamu who is looking at him with a soft smile and soft eyes and soft, wet hair curling up around his temples-
“I’m here, Suna,” he says.
“What?” Suna gasps, shaking his head. “No, a cat. I’m looking for a cat.” He turns his attention back to the boxes. He tries to pull on the lid, but his fingers slip against the wet surface.
He can feel Osamu press up behind him to murmur in his ear, “I’m right here.”
He wakes up.
He groans, rubbing a hand over his face, before sitting up and grabbing for his phone. “Hey Siri,” he says, voice crusty with sleep. “How many people in the world have the last name Miya?”
“Ok, I found this on the web,” says Siri.
“Fuck you,” he says, and Googles it himself.
There are 601,719 people in the world with the surname Miya.
He wonders if any of the other 601,717 Miyas in the world are identical twins, or if he’s just really unlucky.
He throws his phone somewhere on the floor, rolls back into his comforter and hopes he doesn’t dream about cats or boxes or rain again.
“You look tired,” is the first thing Osamu says to him the next morning.
“Thanks.” Suna is glaring at the sky. Glaring at the dark clouds and the rain that falls onto the sidewalk as they walk to practice.
Osamu regards him for a moment before digging into his bag. He pulls out a protein bar and holds it out. “Here.”
Suna just stares at him. Thinks about the ice pops from his dream.
“You didn’t eat this morning right?” Osamu prompts, shoving the package into Suna’s hand.
“How do you know that.”
“I can just tell, alright. You get snippy.”
“Snippy,” Suna mocks, but he starts to unwrap the bar anyway. “What is that even supposed to mean?”
He’s usually so careful when he changes after practice, but it’s just the three of them, and he’s laughing at something Osamu is saying and-
“Miya,” Atsumu suddenly gasps.
“What are you talking about?” Osamu sighs.
“On your chest. I saw it, Sunarin.” Atsumu’s grinning proudly. “It says Miya, doesn’t it?”
Suna flushes. Shit.
“Tsumu,” Osamu snaps, but his voice sounds almost tense. “Leave him alone.”
Suna feels like his ears are ringing and his chest is full of static. All he can think is an endless stream of he saw it he saw it he saw it he saw it-
“I’ve already seen it now, Suna, ya might as well show me!” Atsumu is inching towards him with a hand outstretched. Osamu is just staring at him with his usual passive expression, but there’s something there, underneath.
And it’s that Something that makes Suna snap, “You want to see it? Fine,” and pull down the collar of his t-shirt.
Atsumu’s grin somehow grows. Osamu‘s eyes flash with something unreadable. He opens his mouth and quickly shuts it again.
Suna’s mind is still reeling as he says, “I’ll see you tomorrow,“ and heads out the gym door.
And it’s raining. Of course it’s fucking raining.
When he gets home, he slams the door shut.
“Rintarou!” he hears his mom scold as she approaches from the kitchen. “I swear you’re going to break that damn thing off its hinges one of these-“ She stops. She must sense the distress rolling off him in waves. “Did something happen?”
He breathes out, heavy and hard. He feels like he didn’t breathe the whole way home. “They saw it today.”
“Ah,” she says, eyes widening in understanding. She wipes her hands against the apron tied around her waist. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight?”
They’re back at Ippudo. The steam rising up from his ramen is warming his cheeks. He’s stirring the creamy broth around with his chopsticks as he avoids his mother’s gaze.
“What happened?” she finally asks. “Did they not take it well?”
Suna starts poking at the pork slices in his bowl. “I‘m not sure,” he says. “I left before they said anything.”
“Rin,” she sighs. “You ran away?”
Suna looks up. People always tell him he looks like his mother, but it's never more obvious than when she makes that blank expression. “I didn’t run,” he defends. “I walked. It was raining.”
“Well, no wonder you don’t know how they took it,” she said, gesturing at him with her chopsticks. “You didn’t even give them a chance.”
“Osamu looked upset.” The noodles he’s twisting around his chopsticks absently slide back into the bowl.
“Listen,” his mother starts, placing a hand on his wrist, a silent plea for him to stop messing with his food. “Just go back tomorrow, and explain why you didn’t want to tell them. They’ll understand if you give them the chance to.”
He looks at her for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “What if it’s not him?” he asks, a little desperately. Him.
She smiles. “What if it is?”
(He remembers once asking her why she didn’t get her soulmark covered, like lots of others do when things don’t work out the way the universe wants them to.
“When I see this name, I don't think of him anymore,” she had said. “It’s for you, now.”
Suna, hers reads, on the inside of her wrist.)
Suna waits at the corner where he usually meets Osamu. He’s late.
He thinks of Osamu’s face when he saw his own name on Suna’s chest. How Osamu never asked him about his soulmark. How there are 601,719 people in the world who share the name written above his heart, so why does he care so much about what one Miya thinks about all this?
When he’s about to give up and walk to practice alone, he sees Astumu waving at him. Which means he’s late- Osamu always leaves five minutes before Astumu, so he doesn’t have to walk to school with him.
“Where’s Osamu?” he asks when Atsumu has met him on the corner.
“Not sure. He was gone when I left this morning,” Atsumu says. “Hey, about yesterday-”
“It’s fine,” Suna quickly replies. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
“Don’t apologize to me. That’s not normal,” Atsumu scoffs. “I just think you should know that Osamu… well, he’s been kinda weird about it.”
Suna’s heart drops. “Weird?” he prompts.
“Yeah,” Atsumu says. “Like I would ask him about it, and he wouldn't even get annoyed or anythin’. He’d just ignore me. I think he’s overthinkin’ about why you didn’t tell him.”
“I just wanted to be sure,” Suna mumbles.
Atsumu smirks. “Sure about what?”
Suna decides to answer that loaded question with a withering glare. Atsumu just laughs the way he does when he can tell he’s successfully flustered someone.
“Are you still going to give me 2000 yen?” Suna asks instead. “I showed my mark to you, didn’t I?”
“You think I’ve got that kinda money just lyin’ around, Suna?” Atsumu scoffs. Suna punches him in the arm.
When they walk into the gym together, Suna’s eyes immediately search for Osamu. When he finds him, they lock eyes for a moment, but Osamu turns his gaze towards Atsumu. His expression changes slightly before turning away completely.
Suna starts to make his way over to Osamu, assuming their strange staring contest was just one of their stupid twin antics, but he’s stopped.
Atsumu has grabbed his arm. “Hey, Sunarin, why don’t we pair up for warm ups today?” Atsumu asks.
“What?” Suna stares at him in confusion. He looks back at Osamu to see him already stretching with Gin.
Osamu’s avoiding him.
The realization startles him like the first roll of thunder.
“He’s avoiding me,” he says out loud.
Atsumu’s smile falters. “Like I said,” he says, “he’s bein’ weird.”
Suna sighs, resigning himself to the fate of being Atsumu’s partner until he can explain himself to Osamu. “He’s so annoying when he acts like you.”
“I- What is that supposed to mean!” Atsumu shouts, as Suna drops down onto the gym floor to start stretching.
The silent treatment lasts all the way through practice when Atsumu announces they’ll split the team and have a couple of practice sets. Atsumu chooses Suna first for his team, and Osamu for the other.
The rest of the team is split up by their captain, and it’s game on.
Osamu is first up to serve. He heads to the back of the court, smacking the ball into the floor a couple times.
When he looks up, he’s staring right at Suna.
The whistle blows. 8 seconds.
Eyes still on Suna.
It’s the first time Osamu has looked at him all day.
The ball comes right to him. He braces for a receive, but the serve is too powerful. It flies off his arms out of bounds.
“Sorry,” Suna grits out to the rest of his team. They chorus back the usual reassurances.
Osamu’s serve again.
This time, as he raises his gaze and looks long and hard at Suna, Suna meets his eyes. He’ll be ready.
The whistle blows. 8 seconds-
Not this time.
It’s coming at him fast. Fuck, he’s too close. He needs to step back-
The ball slams into his chest. It knocks the breath out of him. He falls to the ground, gasping for air but coughing it out as soon as it reaches his lungs. He can distantly hear the commotion of the team as someone rushes to his side.
It’s Astumu. He squints open his eyes to see that Osamu has crossed under the net and is looking at him with wide eyes.
“What’s yer fuckin’ problem?” Atsumu shouts at Osamu as he helps Suna off the ground.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt-“ Osamu starts.
“Bullshit,” Suna gasps out. “You’ve been aiming at me the whole time.”
“What’s goin’ on over there?” he hears Coach Kurosu shout.
“That’s a great question,” Suna snaps. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Osamu grits out. His gaze is locked on Atsumu’s grip on Suna’s arm.
“Obviously,” Suna drawls. “You know most grown-ups talk about their feelings instead of try to kill each other with volleyballs.”
“Talk to me then!” Osamu shouts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was scared!” Suna shouts back. He can feel Atsumu freeze up next to him, surprised by his out-of-character outburst. “I just wanted to be sure-“
“Well you’re sure now, aren’t ya?” Any concern disappears from Osamu’s face as he sneers, “Maybe your soulmate can go kiss it better for you.”
Suna can hear the shocked gasps and whispers from his teammates. He wrenches himself from Atsumu’s grip. “What, me and Atsumu? Are you fucking crazy?”
He hears Atsumu shout an offended “Hey!”
Suna can tell the rest of the team is uneasy. Coach looks like he wants to take the rest of the team elsewhere, but there isn’t anywhere to go. Everyone is going to have to watch the storm unfold.
Suna decides to end it there.
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Suna shoves a finger into Osamu’s chest, right over his heart. Osamu stumbles back. “It's your name too, you know.”
When all Osamu does is blink back at him, Suna turns around and walks out the gym.
For once it isn’t raining.
He closes the door behind him softly- doesn’t slam it. He slips off his shoes. “Mom?” he croaks out.
When there’s no response, he pads down the hallway, slipping past the kitchen and the small living room until he reaches his mother’s door. He creaks it open and sees her in bed, watching another American movie. Ryan Gosling is rowing a boat. It’s raining.
She looks up. “You’re home early.” Suna says nothing but crawls onto the bed with her. “What’s wrong?”
The tears come fast. His mom sits up and immediately pulls him into her arms. She’s cooing soft nonsense and running thin fingers through his hair as he tries to hide his tears in her shoulder.
“Osamu-” he gasps out. He tries to explain but all he can do is cry. His chest aches. It aches on the surface where Osamu’s serve struck him, but there’s a deeper ache there too. An ache that feels like the dark clouds of a rainstorm, suffocating him. “He hates me,” he sobs. “I can’t stand him hating me.”
His mom softly shushes him. “Baby…”
“I- I like him. I like him so much.” He’s gasping it out, repeating it over and over, slurring the like until it’s become something else entirely. “I love him so much.”
He feels his mom’s fingers catch in his hair, a soft gasp as she holds him even closer. “I know, honey,” she sighs. “I know.”
“It wasn’t over for me. I waited for you for seven years, and now it’s too late,” he hears from the TV as he gives one last shaking sob.
He falls asleep like that, breathing shakily in his mother’s arms.
“It wasn’t over,” Ryan Gosling says. “It still isn’t over.”
When he wakes up, he’s not sure where he is. There’s a dull throb in his chest, and he somehow feels like he’s slept too long and not at all at once.
He blinks at the clock on the nightstand. 10:37. He’s late for school.
He can’t quite bring himself to care.
He slowly rises out of bed and throws open the door. His mom is on the other side holding a cup of coffee and clutching a hand to her chest. “Don’t scare me like that,” she scolds, smacking him on the shoulder.
“Sorry,” he says. “I am very late for school.”
“I already called,” she says. “You’re sick today.”
“Oh.” His brow furrows. “I am?”
“Yeah, now go waste your life away on your phone, or whatever the hell it is kids do when they sluff school,” she says, nudging him out of her doorway and towards his own.
He pauses. “Maybe. Maybe we should watch one of your movies.”
(“I love you. Most ardently,” Mr. Darcy says.
His mom sighs.
Suna cringes at the way the rain drips down the man’s face into the collar of his jacket.
But Elizabeth rejects him- calls him selfish, arrogant, conceited- and his heart clenches. Just a little.
Suna wonders how Osamu would react if he confessed the same. That he loves him. Most ardently.)
He’s sitting on the counter watching his mom shape rice into onigiri when they hear the doorbell ring. They both snap to look at each other.
“You answer it,” Suna blurts. His mom fixes him with an unimpressed look. “Please.”
She wipes the rice remnants off her hands with a few muttered words about ungrateful children and leaves the kitchen. The door opens, and he can hear soft voices in the entry. Sliding off the counter, Suna edges himself towards the doorway of the kitchen, staying out of view.
His mom startles again when she comes back into the kitchen and finds him hiding by the door. “There is someone here to see you,” she says after cussing him out for scaring her.
“It’s one of them,” she says, eyebrow raised in impatience.
He looks at her pleadingly.
“No, it's not him,” she sighs, giving him a push towards the hallway.
Astumu grins when he sees him approaching. “Hey, Suna! I brought your volleyball stuff that you left.”
“Thanks.” Suna grabs the bag. He makes to shut the door.
“Wait!” Atsumu exclaims. He sticks his foot inside the doorway, stopping it from closing. “Can I talk to ya for a sec?”
Suna grimaces. He should. He knows he should. He hears the words of his mother, they’ll understand if you give them the chance to.
He sighs. “Fine.” He pushes the door open again and steps out, shutting it behind him. He sits down on the step and Atsumu does the same.
“So,” Atsumu starts.
“So,” Suna drawls mockingly.
Atsumu looks like he wants to bite back at him, but instead he takes a deep breath. “I talked to Osamu about what happened,” he says. “I think he feels real bad.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” Suna scoffs.
“He’s gettin’ there,” Astumu says. “Y’know he has a hard time with apologizin’.”
Suna does know that. Osamu likes to act like he’s above his brother’s arrogance, but deep down, they really are identical.
“It bothered him that you didn’t tell him,” Atsumu continues. “And when we showed up for school today, I guess he thought that you ‘n’ me…” He trails off awkwardly.
“It didn’t seem to bother you very much,” Suna says, “that I didn’t tell you.”
“What are you talkin’ about?” Atsumu asks with a laugh. “Of course it didn’t bother me. I’m not yer soulmate, Suna.”
“It’s your name. It could be you,” Suna scoffs. “Or someone I’ve never even met before.”
Atsumu turns to stare at him with an unreadable expression. “It’s not,” he says. “Y’know it’s not.”
It strikes Suna like lightning. He knows it’s not.
This whole time he’s known. He’s always known Osamu is his soulmate. He thinks of his mom, It’s Osamu though, right? He thinks of every time he’s stopped thinking of his soulmate as them and thought of him.
What if it’s not him?
What if it is?
This whole time he’s known. He’s always known Osamu is his soulmate.
He just didn’t know if Osamu’s soulmate was him.
He’s broken from his thoughts by a loud laugh from Atsumu. “You two are idiots. Yer perfect for each other.”
Suna shoves at him. “What do you mean you two?”
“That’s exactly what I mean!” Atsumu is gasping with laughter. “I’m talkin’ about you and ‘Samu. You know the reason I was so annoyin’ about seeing your mark was because he likes ya, right?”
Suna’s stomach swoops. “What?” he exclaims. Suna shoves Atsumu again. This time he slips off the edge of the step onto the ground with a yelp. “How would I have known that?”
“You are so mean to me,” Astumu says, hoisting himself back up. He rubs at the place where his hip met the concrete. “Your soulmate better be Osamu. I hope I’m not stuck with you forever.”
Suna shoves his face into his hands to hide the blush slowly covering his face and groans. Atsumu just laughs again.
“I’ll go talk some sense into him,” he says. “I’ll see ya later, Suna.”
“Wait,” Suna says, lifting his face from his hands. “I… thanks, Atsumu.”
Atsumu’s face lights up. “Oh, what’s this? A genuine thank you from Sun-a-rin?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” Suna grits out. “I hope your soulmate's happy to be stuck with you. You deserve someone good.”
Atsumu’s arrogant smile shifts into something softer, as if he wasn’t expecting the genuine kindness. Knowing Suna, he probably wasn’t. “Thanks, Suna. I’d say the same, but then I’d be complimentin’ my brother, and that’s not really my thing.”
He gives Suna one last wave before turning around and heading home.
Suna goes back inside, stomach churning with butterflies and mind spinning with you know he likes ya, right?
He goes into the living room and does the only thing he can think to do. He turns on a movie.
“You have bewitched me, body and soul,” says Mr. Darcy. “And I love, I love, I love you.”
Suna hides his tears in the crook of his arm.
I love, I love, I love you.
You know he likes ya, right?
from: osamu 👹
> Can you come outside?
How cliche. He thinks of his mom’s American romance movies. He thinks of wet cats squished between lovers and tears mixing with the rain and I love you most ardently.
Osamu is there. His silver hair is plastered against his forehead, curling up around his temple. When Suna steps out into the rain, Osamu has met him in the middle, grabbing his hands.
“Suna,” he says. “I’m sorry.” Suna can see the way the rain drips from his eyelashes down his cheek.
“I’m sorry too,” Suna says. “I didn’t want to tell you in case it wasn’t really you. I just wanted to be sure.”
“I thought you didn’t tell me cause you didn’t want it to be me.” Osamu drops one of Suna’s hands to tuck a strand of Suna’s soaking wet hair behind his ear.
“Atsumu’s right,” Suna laughs. “We really are idiots.”
He feels the rain soaking through his sweatshirt. He feels it dripping from his hair down his neck. He feels it pooling in his shoes. The rain is everywhere, covering him completely, and it should feel disgusting, but it’s numbing every one of his senses except Osamu.
“I want it to be me,” Osamu murmurs. His grip on Suna’s hand is a vice. “I want to be your soulmate.”
“I want that too,” Suna says. He’s breathless. He lifts his hands to trace the rain that flows down Osamu’s cheeks.
“Okay,” Osamu says. His grip on Suna’s hand softens, but he doesn’t let go. His other hand reaches to rest on the back of Suna’s neck. “Okay,” he repeats softly and leans down.
It’s slick with rain water when their lips meet. His fingers slip against Osamu’s wet cheeks, so he holds onto his shoulders, feeling the soaked fabric of his volleyball jacket.
Osamu tilts his head, deepening the kiss, mouth sliding with the rainwater. It’s wet, but it’s warm, and it’s making the dull ache in Suna’s chest flutter away.
Suna pulls back as Osamu leans in again. “Sorry,” he gasps. “Can we just…” He trails off, wrapping his arms around Osamu and shoving his freezing, wet nose in Osamu’s hair. And Osamu knows exactly what he means- his arms coming around Suna to pull him closer. Of course he knows. Osamu knows him and likes him and wants to be his soulmate.
Osamu’s warm mouth meets the cold rain on his skin as he presses a line of soft kisses up his neck. Suna shivers.
“Sorry,” Osamu murmurs next to his ear. “I know you think kissing in the rain is gross.”
He thinks of raindrops dripping into a kiss and tap dancing in puddles and it still isn’t over.
He gets it now.)
He tightens his grip on Osamu’s shoulders and starts to sway.
“What are you doing?” Osamu laughs against his cheek.
“I’m dancing in the rain,” Suna sighs.
(Atsumu comes to school months later showing off his soulmate’s name to everyone.
“Sakusa,” he says proudly to everyone who asks (and everyone who doesn’t).
“Hey, isn’t that the name of the ace from Itachiyama?” Riseki asks as the team stretches before practice.
“Hell no!” Atsumu exclaims. “That mask guy is irritatin’. He’s not my soulmate.”
Across the gym, Suna and Osamu sit close together, sometimes stretching, but mostly trading snide comments about Atsumu and his unfortunate soulmate, and sneaking loving gazes at each other when the other isn’t looking.
“I guess you’re not identical anymore,” Suna says. “Now that you have the soulmarks, I mean.”
He runs his hand over the name on Osamu’s ankle.
“I think that’s fine with me,” Osamu says as Atsumu shouts something about Clorox in the distance.)