Chapter Text
“You want me to pretend to be YOU?”
“Uh-huh, we are twins, aren’t we?”
“You want me to pretend to be YOU, for a royal portrait. You do realize how audacious this sounds, don’t you?”
“Samu pleasee,” His twin grabs the edge of his shirt, tugging at the marvelous fabric, “I am begging you, just this once. I will forever be grateful to you-”
“If mum heard you, she would have a heart attack,” The silver-headed boy replies, nose scrunched in distaste, “Begging doesn’t suit a prince. God, I can already imagine the lecture.”
Atsumu claps his hand, eyes sparkling as he nods enthusiastically, “Yes! You get me, don’t you? Mum would never allow this which is why I am asking you. Please, I need to go on that date.”
“With our gardener?”
“With our gardener,” He grins, already lost in a reverie where he does not have to hide his love or make excuses to meet his beloved.
“You promise to get me-”
“The sweets we had when we escaped as teenagers, yes, Samu! I will get you the moon too, if you want,” He trails off, looking at his brother expectantly.
“Fine but if we get in trouble, I will blame you entirely.”
“A fair deal,” Atsumu winks at him, before giving him a mock salute, “See ya then! Wish me luck for my date.”
“Good luck, ya moron,”
He mumbles as his brother darts away without hearing the comment.
Osamu Miya takes a deep breath and plops on the couch, nursing the migraine that had been building up since morning and certainly, his twin did not help much with it.
He closes his eyes for a few minutes, enjoying the spare moment he has to himself. Being a Prince has never been easy for him, he hates being in the eyes of the public, presented as if he is a saint, worthy to be appreciated but Osamu does not feel that way.
The songs of glory and praises, the never-ending gazes, always being glamoured up in the best of suits, he hates it all. But there are some parts he loves such as the palace, especially the isolated rooms, one’s where he can get lost and be himself. He loves roaming around, leaving his mark on the walls and the dusty floors, he loves how in some moments the burden of the crown almost feels of worth.
Osamu pastes a smile on his face and gets up, making sure his shirt is not crinkled, he makes his way towards the ballroom and takes a left from it.
The door is opened and light floods the room and his breath hitches in his throat as Osamu stares at him. He marvels at the beauty of the man, how he is lost in his painting and its colours and for a moment he is envious, because he wants the man’s attention all to himself.
He clears his throat, indicating his presence and walks inside, shoulders straightened and head raised high.
The painter stands up in respect, his lazy eyes widening as he looks at the Prince, “Your Highness, you’re here,”
“Oh, don’t call me that. I have a good name, don’t I?”
“I am Suna Rintaro, the new painter of the royal family. It's an honor to-”
“Paint me? Look at me? Be bewitched by me?”
Osamu’s gaze takes in his appearance, the crisp white shirt and the golden cuffs. He takes his precious time, eyes darting through the man’s body and he raises his eyes to meet Suna’s but there is no surprise there.
“Where is the other Prince?”
“I am afraid it’s just me. We look the same honestly except his hair is worse. You can paint him by looking at me. No one will find out.”
Suna opens his mouth to speak but thinks better and resigns to his fate. He squeezes out a bunch of colors on the palette and begins preparing the portrait.
“So I just sit here and look all pretty? I am good at that,” Osamu mumbles to himself, fighting off a grin when the painter looks at him with a raised eyebrow.
Soon the colors behind them change. Osamu can see the sun fading away into the distance and red merging with the orange hues, the sound of the birds growing quieter as they search for refuge during the night.
He stands up after a good while, and stretches his arms, resisting the urge to groan as he has his pride and dignity that he wants to maintain.
“Can I see it?” He stands in front of Suna, his head tilted at an angle.
“You’re the Prince. You can do whatever you want.” The painter mumbles, stepping back and giving him space.
“No but do YOU want me to see it?”
There is surprise in Suna’s eyes but it disappears quickly as he clears his throat, looking at his polished shoes.
“No, it’s not ready yet.”
“Okay,” Osamu whispers, red tint on his cheek and he is glad that the painter is avoiding looking at his royal face, “I will come back tomorrow then and after that and after that too.”
Suna’s head snaps up at the comment and he openly stares at the him, unable to hide his surprise, “Don’t you have princely duties to attend to?”
“Mhmm,” Mischief is visible in his eyes as he grins, “I’d much rather watch you paint than spend another minute learning about etiquettes or how to woo girls properly,”
“Just girls?” Suna clasps his hand over his mouth and stares at Osamu, horrified and a little guilty.
“No…not just girls,” The Prince smiles warmly at him before turning on his heels and sauntering out of the room. When he is sure Suna isn’t following him, Osamu leans against the wall and takes a deep breath.
He places his palm over his heart and is not surprised when it beats abnormally, at an uneven pace but he does not mind and the giddy smile on his face is a proof of that.
Finally Osamu has something to look forward to in the lonely palace.