Chapter Text
Motoya had loved once in his life and that ended in flames.
It was good– until it wasn’t.
He hadn’t told anyone about his lover, he wanted to keep him as a piece in his own solitude. Though, because of that fact, he had no one to turn to when he found his lover in the bed with another.
Motoya hadn’t shown up to work for a week, and at the time, he told his cousin that he had the flu. A very, very, bad case of the flu.
Then, once the week of crying and feeling sorry for himself ended, he was back on his feet, pretending as if none of it had happened.
But, of course, Motoya knew otherwise. The scar he bared on his heart was evidence enough.
After that, it was refreshing, in a way, to see Kiyoomi fall in love.
His cousin, well, he was a complex man, always had been. Motoya loved every piece of the complexity.
Kiyoomi was closed off to everyone, but Motoya, and he felt pride in the fact.
Their families were filled with cold shoulders and social images larger and more important than any familial relationship.
It was hard for someone, like Motoya, who loved and felt so deeply compared to the ones he grew up around. Kiyoomi was able to give him that warmness he craved from a family member.
Even if he was callous on the outside, Motoya knew that he would do anything for him.
Being able to see Kiyoomi give that warmness to another made Motoya grin and smile. It had him cheering from the side and urging the two to be together, because that was another thing– Motoya knew how good Atsumu could be for his cousin.
He watched as the two couldn’t keep their eyes from each other, he watched when his cousin would touch almost too much (which was insane in itself because Kiyoomi didn’t touch), he watched when the two fought, and he watched when they officially announced they were dating.
He was just a side character in their love story, but he was there, actively playing a role, and actively watching it unfold.
The last thing he expected was getting caught up in another story, especially of love, whenever his last relationship ended so terribly. He wasn't looking for love, but sometime's the heart steers him in directions least expected.
“Toya!”
Motoya dropped whatever was in his hands as he was startled by the sudden voice yelling his name. Blinking down to the ground he remembered that it was Ume’s treats. He got them to coax her into his lap, until he blanked.
Calmly he bends down to get them, looking up to his cousin who was watching him with a concerned glint.
“What?”
Kiyoomi chuckles when Motoya stands back up, shaking the treats until they rattle against the packaging, beckoning for Ume, as she meows loudly, running towards him.
Motoya smiles, before walking to the couch, still trying to ignore Kiyoomi’s look. Though, the other only follows him.
“You want to explain your sudden spacing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, pouring a few star-shaped treats in his palm. The cat slowly paws close to him, the dark couch indenting in her small paws, grinning when she stands on his leg.
“You’re acting weird,” Kiyoomi observes.
“Weird?” Ume stands fully in his lap, collapsing back on her haunches, eating out of his palm. “Why would I be weird? It’s just you and I, cousin and cousin, nothing to be weird about.”
Kiyoomi sighs, crossing his arms.
“Ume,” he calls, clicking his teeth a few times which causes the cat to chirp and jump away from Motoya. Even with his treat filled hand, she still leaves him at the simplest call.
He frowns, dropping his hands back down to the couch. He throws all the un-eaten treats on the ground for Ume to finish, which makes his cousin groan. Crumbs were sure to be all over the ground in her wake.
“Now that you can’t use Ume as a distraction, look at me and tell me what’s wrong.”
Motoya takes a deep breath, melting back into the couch to look up to Kiyoomi who was still standing before him, eyebrow raised.
He grumbles, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm, trying to release the jitters he’s feeling. “Nothing Kiyo– swear it. It’s just–”
Motoya suddenly jumps wildly when the front door is thrown open, followed by boisterous laughing and heavy footsteps.
He stiffens.
He watches as two identical faces push each other through the door as another calmly shuts the door behind them, seemingly too engrossed in his phone to be paying attention.
Motoya feels his heart pick up in velocity, his blood rushing too quickly in his veins. His mouth suddenly dry and devoid of the words he was just telling his cousin.
Ever since Motoya had met Osamu, as well as his partner, Suna, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about them.
First glance at the two, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of them. They were easily the most alluring couple he’d ever met. They fit perfectly together, their appearances complimenting the other. A perfect pair.
Osamu was large, tall, but soft in all the places that mattered and Suna was lithe and seductive. Opposites attracting and creating a pivotal moment.
Then there was Motoya.
A nobody who thought the two were pretty.
And they were dating.
Here he was fawning over two men who were happily together. Of course it was his cousin’s boyfriend’s family. People who he would have to see periodically and not just people who he could forget existed.
Plus, how could he forget them?
“Motoya!” He hears Atsumu suddenly yell as he rounded Osamu into a headlock. “Yer here! I hope we didn’t make ya wait too long.”
Motoya’s eyes widened when Osamu found him. Even in a headlock, Motoya can find the areas of the other that he likes the best.
God he needs to stop.
“No, no, not long at all,” he waves off, laughing nervously as he gages Suna walking around the couch and plopping down next to him. Their thighs sliding together, causing heat to instantly skitter down Motoya’s skin.
Kiyoomi sighs, sitting on the other side of him once Osamu breaks free from the hold, his face red as he breathes harshly.
He really needs to stop looking at him.
“You’ll get used to it,” Suna says lightly, patting Motoya’s knee before he continues scrolling on his phone. Unknowingly to Suna, it sends even more heat trickling up his skin.
He tries to control the blush rising on his cheeks.
“What are they fighting about?”
Suna shrugs, his narrowed eyes sliding to Motoya, golden and deadly. “You get used to muting them out as well,” he smirks.
“We weren’t fighting,” Osamu voices behind them.
Yes, Motoya has already figured out the differences in the twin’s voices.
“You were wrestling?” Motoya states, confused. He turns around, watching as Osamu walks towards them, tilting his hat back so that he can comb back his dyed hair. His roots were growing out fairly long. Two inches, or so, of brown roots exposed before he places the cap back.
He forms a lopsided grin to the statement, “It’s fun.”
Motoya almost swoons at the grin. Osamu was so handsome. He had a boyish charm to him that Motoya had never come across until now.
The brunette turns around, not being able to control his thoughts anymore, looking to his lap instead.
They all were supposed to go out for dinner, get some drinks, maybe even go clubbing. He wasn’t sure of the plan, all he knew was that it was Atsumu’s doing.
Kiyoomi said they needed to celebrate as the blonde was about to begin traveling for his new coaching job, being three months deep into practices, games were going to start soon.
It had also been three months since he had moved in with Kiyoomi and the apartment already showed the evidence of the blonde living here. First things first, the living room feels as if it were a green house with the amount of plants he had brought in– all of them pet friendly of course. There was a colorful throw blanket thrown over the couch, and the black rug was replaced with one colored emerald with silver detailing.
Atsumu once told him that it was his favorite rug and he could stare at the detailing for hours– which was what Motoya was currently doing so he didn’t die of flushed red cheeks.
“So, Omi picked out a place for us to get dinner, and I picked out the place for us to get fucked up,” Atsumu laughs before Motoya spots him running in his peripheral, causing him to look up from finding designs in the detailing.
Atsumu runs to Ume, picking her up quickly and cradling her in his arms. She doesn’t move an inch as she purrs, closing her eyes when he rocks her back and forth.
Motoya sighs annoyed when Kiyoomi chuckles beside him.
Osamu and Suna send him a questioning look at his exaggerated sigh.
The brunette smiles meekly, wringing his hands together at the attention. “She doesn’t do that for me. I still have to prompt her in my lap with treats.”
The couples’ lips slowly inch up into smiles. "I remember Sakusa telling me that a while ago," Osamu huffs a chuckle.
Motoya glared daggers to his cousin who simply shrugs. “To be fair, she doesn’t even do that for me. She hates laying on her back– unless its Tsumu holding her.”
The blonde sticks out his tongue, cooing at Ume as if she’s a baby in his arms.
~~~
“Tsumu, slow down,” Osamu drones to his brother who just asked for a second cocktail. Dinner had yet to be served, and while everyone was still sipping on their first drink, the blonde had taken it upon himself to make it a competition. “We won’t even make it to the club at this point.”
Osamu laid a hefty arm on the table beside Motoya, holding his beer glass in his hand. His very large hand.
Motoya’s left foot was numb to how compacted he sat so he didn’t touch Osamu in any way, but that seemed hard to accomplish as the other had a tendency to stretch out all his limbs while sitting.
So, Motoya’s knees were pressed to his chest, his chin resting upon them.
“He’s right,” Kiyoomi voices, sliding his hand past the back of Atsumu’s neck. “You’re already getting flush.”
Atsumu and Kiyoomi sat on one side of the table where he, Osamu, and Suna sat on the opposite side. It was a nice restaurant they were at. The pillows under them were plush, and the table before them was nicely finished. Of course his cousin picked this place out.
His cousin also stated that he was paying for everyone’s meals when they arrived-
Don’t get him wrong, Motoya was grateful, but it wasn't like he ran short on money. He never had.
He’s always just been meek about sharing his expenses, but come his family, comes his wealth. Maybe not as much as Kiyoomi, but close-
“Shut up,” Atsumu whines, pushing Kiyoomi’s hand off his neck. “I’m fine, I swear.”
“Ya haven’t eaten yet, scrub.”
Atsumu pouts looking between the three faces across from him and how they were all frowning. The only person who hasn’t experienced Atsumu light-weightedness first hand was Motoya, and even he has heard plenty of stories.
“This is a celebration, so celebrate! ”
Osamu sighs, his shoulder running up the expanse of Motoya’s, in which the brunette slyly looks over, catching the way Osamu smiled slightly at his brother, but still shook his head.
It was a celebration, so Osamu couldn’t really be mad at Atsumu for indulging. It was his night.
Atsumu jumped happily in place when the server brought him another orange colored cocktail. Kiyoomi laughed gently at the display of excitement. Motoya could tell his cousin had his hand on the other’s leg, rubbing it gently from the motion of his shoulder.
Always touching Atsumu. It’s what his cousin did.
He could see the warmth in Kiyoomi’s eyes as he leaned over and whispered something in the blonde’s ear, in which Atsumu laughed loudly to.
Motoya loved seeing Kiyoomi’s smile. As rare as he saw it growing up, now hit never seemed to disappear.
“How’re you?”
Motoya jumps slightly when a voice speaks towards him. It takes him little time to realize its Osamu beside him, angling his head close to speak over the noise around them.
Smiling, Motoya scratches the back of his neck.
Normal, act so normal, he was normal.
“I’m doing okay,” he replied politely. Suna leant across the table so he could be included in the conversation as well. “I’m rather hungry, I didn’t have a chance to eat today.”
Osamu suddenly frowns, while Suna’s eyes knowingly slides to his lover’s. “Ah, you shouldn’t have said that Komori. Samu gets passionate about that.”
“No, no, I’m okay, really!” Motoya laughs, waving his hands in the air in dismissal. “I’ll be fine, I’m used to it!”
Osamu’s frown deepens.
“Oof, and he digs himself an even bigger grave,” Suna narrates with a smirk, rubbing Osamu’s back.
“Is it because yer working?” Osamu finally speaks, his frown still deep.
Motoya shrugs, “Today it was, yes. But really, Osamu, do not worry about me.”
“Give me yer phone.”
“Huh?”
Suna laughs loudly, placing his elbow on the table to set his cheek in his palm as he watches all of this unfold.
Motoya chuckles nervously when Osamu extends his hand. “Phone.”
Slowly, Motoya blinks at him and then reaches down to his pocket to retrieve his phone. What else was he supposed to do? If he was told to scream and stand on top of the table right now, he would, just because Osamu told him to do so.
So, naturally, he placed his phone in Osamu’s outstretched palm.
Then, when Motoya flicks his eyes back up to the other’s, the twin grins.
“I need ya ta unlock it for me.”
“I can just give the code to you—“
“Ya don't even know what I'm doin' yet and ya would give me yer code-”
Motoya startled, panicked, snatching his phone back, causing Suna to stifle a snicker in his palm.
“I just—“ he tries to recover. “I don’t have anything to hide, I guess,” his voice was weak, dying out quickly.
The other responds with a smile, especially when an unlocked phone finds itself back in his palm. Osamu shakes his head with a chuckle before looking down to the device as he begins typing.
“Can I ask what you’re doing?”
Osamu side-eyes him, pulling his lip between his teeth, Motoya follows the action with shame.
Suna then leans over his partner's shoulder looking at the screen as well, whispering something In his ear briefly.
“Ya will see.”
Motoya’s heart spikes as he glances at Kiyoomi and Atsumu who are too caught in their own bubble to see the interaction before their eyes.
Tapping his fingers on the table, he chances to peer back at the opposite couple, the ones who giggle at his phone. Suna’s eyes narrow on Motoya’s hunched figure, startling him to sit up straighter.
He then once again whispers something in Osamu’s ear, much too low for Motoya to overhear.
Which he didn’t have to dwell on the fact for long since his phone is thrusted back towards him.
Slowly he reaches towards the device, looking warily to Osamu.
“Should I be scared?” Motoya asked taking it.
The two laugh, which makes Motoya smile slightly from the response to his subtle humor.
“I mean- kinda,” Suna shrugs.
Osamu scoffs, pushing him back and off of his shoulder that he was previously pressing into. Through, the other just smirks and resumes his position.
“Ya have my number,” Osamu completes.
Motoya almost choked on air, his eyes widening as far as they could before he looked to his phone screen. Believe it or not, the twin was indeed in his contacts.
“I texted myself so I could have yer’s too, yunno, just in case ya don’t have time for food. I’ll hand deliver.”
“You have mine too, because why not?” Suna adds.
Motoya chuckles nervously, his cheeks hot. He attempts to press the back of his cool skin upon his hand to his forehead— if he wasn’t around others he’d press his cold drink glass to his skin, but that’s too obvious.
His heart fluttered, almost palpating in his chest.
“Guys,” he squeaks, clearing his throat. “I told you it’s not a big deal for me to skip—“
A palm suddenly placed over his mouth, halting his speech. The sudden scent of spices and herbs fills his nose, the rough skin sliding past his lips making his breath stutter in his chest.
Slowly, his eyes flutter up to Osamu who's much closer than what he was a few moments ago.
He smirks, cocking his head to the side as he looks down his nose to the brunette.
Motoya holds onto the breath because if he were to exhale Osamu would be able to feel his quivering breath.
“Stop arguing and let me take care of ya, it’s what I do,” he whispers and as quick as it happened, Osamu pulled his hand away.
Motoya’s eyes blink heavily as his shaky breath finally releases when Osamu turns away with a satisfied expression, sipping his drink.
What the fuck?
Quickly, Motoya shifts his position to hide his obvious bulge in his pants. Getting an erection from close proximity as if he was a teen again. He was 30, he shouldn’t have been popping a boner off of something as minuscule as this, but Osamu just smelt so good.
The way he looked at Motoya– all teasing and amused.
It wasn’t fair.
It was all just another chance to remind himself that Osamu was in a relationship, as was Suna. No matter how attracted he was to the both of them, he hated cheaters. There was no way in hell he’d be a home wrecker. Not after the whole ordeal that happened with his last partner.
He couldn’t do to someone what had happened to himself.
So, he swallowed his attraction and slowly gave Osamu a small bow as thanks, snuffing out any tension that had grown between them.
He saw the way Osamu and Suna had looked to each other in small confusion at the change in demeanor and how Motoya had turned his body away to look at his cousin instead.
He couldn't let himself get too close to the others. If he couldn’t get over this silly crush, then he would be the bigger person and extinguish the flame brewing in his stomach.
Because this wasn’t going to happen again, time would not repeat itself.
Motoya would rather be lonely than put others' happiness at stake.
Kiyoomi takes his eyes off of Atsumu once Motoya was once again turned towards him. His older cousin had quiet and assessing eyes that always saw through him, just how much Motoya’s eyes did the same.
Which was a blessing and a curse, because his cousin was not the most subtle being.
“You don’t look good,” he says, drawing the attention of all the others.
Motoya sighs, rubbing his eyes with his fingers to try and buy some time to erase the red from his cheeks.
“Just keep flirting with Atsumu, I’m alright,” he sighs.
Kiyoomi doesn’t look the least bit impressed as Atsumu grins widely at the remark, even if he feels the eyes of the couple beside him.
“I’m hungry, Kiyoomi,” he stated more firmly when his cousin didn’t let up on his sneering, looking through Motoya as if he was made of glass.
“Awe, Motoya’s hangry ,” Atsumu coos, gripping onto Kiyoomi’s bicep and tugging at him. “Good thing we’ve already ordered.”
“Good thing,” Motoya mirrors under his breath, grabbing his drink and taking a sip.
He didn’t like the attention on him. He always find solace being in the shadows, he was used to it. It was a safe space for him to be forgotten or overlooked.
With Kiyoomi as a cousin and a family like his, it’s all he’s known. So, when the attention was on him, he was uncomfortable.
Thankfully, the conversation moved on after that. The attention was once again on someone who wasn’t himself and he was happy about that.
He would occasionally glance to his side, yet he would never catch Osamu or Suna’s eyes. Atsumu had pulled them in by a story and the blonde was getting pretty theatrical with the alcohol swimming in his veins.
Motoya tried to listen as well, but all he could think about was his previous relationship now that it was brought to the forefront of his mind.
Sadness and anxiety settled on his shoulders. He wondered if he’d ever trust someone again, or if he was going to be forever lonely.
He hadn’t found anyone in his eyesight for a long time and of course the first ones to peak his interest had been two that were already together.
Just his luck.
“Excuse me,” Motoya had breathed to no one in particular. His eyes were becoming hazy and he needed a moment to collect himself before he continued the night.
Atsumu had paused his story as Motoya stood from the table.
Motoya tried not to flinch when his knee brushed Osamu’s as he did so. All eyes were once again on him and it took effort to not recoil to the fact.
“I think our food is coming,” Kiyoomi said.
Motoya nodded, looking over his shoulder as their waitress was indeed coming around the corner. “I’ll be quick.”
He then bolted from the table without another word.
It was unknown to all around him, but Motoya had many skeletons in his closet.
No one would guess because, well, Motoya was a liar. It's always been a good skill of his, as much as he wished it wasn’t. Everyone he was around thought he was happy, put together, and smiley, but he was good at faking and spinning stories.
He always guessed everyone around him had bigger problems than his own. So, he hid.
Not a soul knew about his past love besides himself.
Kiyoomi was the only one who knew he was in love once, but that was the extent.
No one knew about the heartbreak, the despair, and the lies he told.
One day he knew it would bite him in the ass. One day he was going to crumble from the burden. Everyday was a reminder of what could have been. The smallest things causing him to take a break from life.
It wasn’t Osamu and Suna’s fault that he had a crush on them, it wasn’t their fault that he was reminded of how little he could trust, reminded of how he felt the last time he gave his heart away.
He shakily took a deep breath, slamming the bathroom stall behind him as he placed his head in his hands.
Breathe. He needed to breathe.
The bathroom was the last place he needed to have an anxiety attack. Especially when everyone was out looking for him.
His thoughts never quieted in his mind. Always thinking, always bringing meaningless things forward. Which cause him to not be able to breathe, or control tears streaming down his face, or the crushing pain in his chest.
His anxiety was always bad, even as a kid.
That was one of the things Kiyoomi knew about him….except his cousin believed he didn’t have these dreaded moments anymore.
If only he knew the nights where his pillow grew wet from his sobs, the ones where he would have to sit in darkness for extended amounts of times, trying to calm himself.
Though, Motoya wouldn’t succumb tonight, he wouldn't let himself. Not right now, at least. There were other things to do, more important things than his own struggles.
Motoya shakes his head as he takes a deep breath, you’re fine, he chants. Because he was, or he would be.
By the time Motoya worked his way back to the table, breathing stable- Osamu had a clean plate devoid of food, Atsumu somehow looked more sluggish than before, Suna was offering food for Osamu to eat, and Kiyoomi— well his food was untouched as he stared at Motoya.
Osamu turns around noticing Kiyoomi’s stare. “If it’s cold I’ll ask the server to reheat it for ya,” he whispers, patting the spot besides him with a smile.
Motoya huffs a laugh, plopping himself down.
So food is going to be their main source of conversation between them, great.
“No that's okay, Osamu, I’ll be alright. I assume yours was good?”
Then, the twin’s cheeks turn pink as his shoulders shrug to his ears, seeming a little bashful from the comment.
Motoys smiled faintly.
“I tried to wait—“
“For two seconds,” Suna pipped up causing Osamu to twist his head around, flicking the chopsticks out of the other’s hand.
Suna only looks at them on the ground before smiling coyly, wrapping his arms around Osamu’s middle. “I'm done eating, baby,” he laughs, kissing Osamu’s neck. Proving that hitting his chopsticks out of his hands was ineffective.
Motoya blinks quickly, turning himself back to face the table.
“Motoya,” his spine buzzes with the utterance of his name from the one beside him. The twang soaking his name in honey. “Let me know if ya need somethin’, ‘kay?”
He glances over to Osamu, who smiles gently, only nodding his head in response.
Motoya finishes his drink before he begins to pick apart his food, already telling this it lost its life with warmness and had turned cold.
He takes a breath before finally connecting his eyes with his cousin’s who had Atsumu hanging off his arm, chopsticks stirring around his own cold food.
Kiyoomi gave him a pointed look, but Motoya smiled to put his cousin at ease.
“How’s yours, Kiyo?”
“Don’t know,” he grumbles.
“You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“Well, I did.”
Motoya’s shoulders drop as he shoved some rice in his mouth. It boarded hardness with its loss of temperature, but he didn’t let the others catch on.
Kiyoomi was lucky as his food already came cold. In which he took a bite mirroring Motoya.
“You’re not okay,” Kiyoomi whispers, ensuring Osamu and Suna were in conversation before saying anything. Atsumu was in his own little world so nothing would translate through to him.
Motoya huffs, rolling his eyes. His cousin being so in tuned with his state and emotions was endearing, he appreciated how much Kiyoomi cared about him.
He still didn’t want to tell him the truth though.
“Why wouldn’t I be? We're celebrating after all.”
Kiyoomi sighs, looking down at the blonde who was beginning to fall asleep on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. The alcohol must have won this time.
Motoya smiles gently at him, how he nestled closer to Kiyoomi even in his sleepy state.
“Sometimes it comes at random times, I just needed to check,” Kiyoomi says lowly, talking about Motoya’s anxiety.
The brunette shrugs, taking another bite of his cold food.
“I appreciate you, Kiyo. Everything’s okay-”
“Ya’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” Osamu laughs, causing Motoya to jump and look over, worried their conversation was overheard.
Though when he looks over, the twin is throwing his napkin at Atsumu which causes the blonde to groan and bury his head deeper in Kiyoomi’s arm.
Osamu balks. “I knew this was goin’ to happen.”
Motoya chuckles slightly as Kiyoomi combs back his boyfriends hair gently. A gentleness he’s only seen his cousin have with Atsumu.
“Atsumu,” he says. “Are you done for the night?”
Atsumu groans, rubbing his eyes roughly, looking to the three in front of him with tired eyes. “Ya still wanna go clubbin’?”
“Not if yer already passin’ out, scrub.”
“I don’t trust you to drink anymore, sorry,” Suna states, sounding anything but sympathetic. He sounds more mocking than anything which causes Motoya to snicker.
“Omi’s watching me,” he frowns in rebuttal.
“I can guarantee he’s going to cut you off,” Motoya responds, knowing his cousin's actions well.
Atsumu looks hopefully up to the raven.
“You’re cut off.”
“Then why would I go to a club sober!”
“Yer not sober though?” Osamu speaks.
“I need a drink in my hand, it’s required.”
He flops to the side, slumping against Kiyoomi once more. As soon as he got comfortable, his eyes began to close again.
Everyone sighs.
Kiyoomi motions for the check.
Motoya pushes around his barely eaten food after he thanks Kiyoomi for buying food that he didn’t eat.
He didn’t know what he expected this night to turn out like since he’s been swallowing his crushes on the ones beside him, but he supposed that ending the night early because Atsumu truly couldn’t handle his alcohol was the least of his problems.
He was up to continue the night, he had saved up his energy throughout the day to withstand late hours and to loosen up for once, but he supposed he could just go back home and watch some TV.
Motoya slung his bag over his shoulder, the strap draping diagonally over his chest, as he calmly walked to the door. Kiyoomi shook Atsumu awake once more so he could walk himself out of the restaurant.
“I’m sorry,” Atsumu yawns, as he turns to the others addressing him.
Motoya shrugs, “Don’t worry about it, Atsumu. It’s your celebration anyways.”
“Ya can’t help yer a lightweight,” Osamu chuckles when Atsumu grumbles at him.
Motoya clutches onto the bag strap as his cousin gives him a nod of acknowledgement as he ushers Atsumu to their chauffeur.
Motoya begins to wander off too, seemingly convinced the night is over.
Yet, when he takes a step, his bicep is suddenly caught.
His eyes widen in shock as he turns around to find Osamu’s hand around his arm. The other briefly looks at Suna before dropping his hand, realizing that Motoya wasn’t going anywhere. How could he when Osamu physically made and effort to stop him from walking away?
“We’re going to go prep at the shop for tomorrow since there’s time now,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I’d see if ya’d want to join.”
Motoya was once again taken back.
He didn’t classify him as the couple’s close friend. He supposed he was just a good acquaintance that was close to Atsumu's significant other. Nothing special, nothing to step out of their way to include.
Yet, here they were.
“Oh, I’m okay to head back home. Don’t worry about me feeling left out or something,” he tells them, because that must be what this is– a pity invite.
Atsumu went home with Kiyoomi and Osamu and Suna are going home together– but who was Motoya supposed to go home with?
Himself.
It was fine. He didn’t need them to feel bad for him. He was used to it.
“We wouldn’t have offered if we didn’t want you to come along,” Suna’s head tilted to the side, resting his elbow on Osamu’s shoulder. “Don’t think it's a pity, because I’m not someone who gives it.”
Motoya laughs gently, giving them a wide smile, one he felt lighten up his chest.
The others followed suit with the gesture.
“You sure you want me there? I’m not a skilled cook or anything like that.”
“There’s other things to put ya up to,” Osamu states simply. “Plus, I just ordered some new soju that needs to be tasted before I put it on my menu.”
Suna grins, “I picked them out.”
Motoya sighs a long gesture, his shoulders dropping as he loosens his grip on the bag strap that he didn't realize he was gripping so deadly. Maybe befriending the two wouldn't be so bad.
“I’m sure it’s only polite of me to try them then.”
~~~
“Osamu, I told you I couldn’t!” Motoya yells as he places his palms on his forehead. Rice sticking to his skin as he did so.
The three of them had walked straight to the restaurant where they had flipped on the lights, began playing music loudly in the speakers, and pulled out the multitudes of soju flavors they needed to try.
Which then ended up with all their cheeks being rosy, their giggles being a little too loud, and Motoya becoming a bit too comfortable– he forgot that tonight was the first night they all had been by themselves for an extended amount of times. Yet, he felt at ease.
Sure, they had dinner a few times, went out a few times as well, but Kiyoomi and Atsumu were always with them.
It was never just the three of them, but Motoya was comfortable.
They've been effortlessly chatting the entire night away since they left Kiyoomi and Atsumu. There was never a long expanse of silence as they cheered each other's soju cups, as they talked about brief anecdotes, even as Osamu started singing a song under his breath as he began preparing the prep.
It didn’t help that when they arrived at Onigiri Miya, the decor was cozy, it was softly lit, and inviting. It smelt of rice and home. Motoya felt himself relaxing even more, especially with the soju, which was delicious.
Osamu laughs loudly as he grabs the rice ball (even though it resembled an entirely different shape) off of Motoya’s board, beginning to morph it with his hands. It was instant how the twin had made a perfect triangle- how fast he morphed the rice with his hands. Motoya had only made it look like a lumpy ball of clay.
Suna warned him to not overwork the rice as he sat in the dining room, papers in front of him as he tried to figure out which soju flavors should have more stock.
“What does overwork even mean?” He grumbled through the kitchen window to Suna who had only smirked, pouring himself another small glass of blueberry soju that he favored. Motoya’s nose scrunched as he sipped on his passion fruit flavor.
“It means that the filling starts moving around, which means if I take a bite here,” Osamu takes a bite making Motoya groan a noise of defeat. “There is nothing but rice,” which was a spot that definitely should have had filling.
Motoya finished his small glass of liquor before pouring himself another.
“Show me again. Once more and I got it,” he claims with a giggle.
Osamu chuckles, leaning over Motoya to grab supplies. His arm brushing along the expanse of Motoya’s as his chest threatens to do the same, closing the gap between them. Until he pulled away just as quickly as he came.
“Just watch my hands, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” Motoya snaps into place, watching the other’s hands like his life depended on it.
“So,” Osamu voices gently with humor when he sees how seriously Motoya is watching. “Don’t tell me yer like Tsumu and don’t cook.”
Motoya shrugs, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he focuses on the way the ball begins morphing into a triangle, tossing back and forth between Osamu’s large, thick, veiny–
Onigiri, right, not Osamu’s hands.
Maybe that’s why he wasn’t getting this. He wasn’t watching the food.
“I cook,” Motoya shugs. “But I just like baking more.”
“Baking?” Osamu asks, which causes Motoya’s eyes to flicker upward to the tone. It was an intriguing tone.
He didn’t usually talk about his baking with others. Kiyoomi would come over all the time to try one of his concoctions. Many times, he would bring one of his baked goods to lunch when him and his cousin made the time.
Motoya nods gently, “I just taught myself so it's not really–”
“What do ya make?”
Motoya makes a surprised sound. Osamu sounded– enthusiastic?
“Tarts, danishes, brownies, loafs… ah, one time I made a batch of donuts that turned out really yummy. They were blueberry lemon.”
“Rin would eat that up,” he says fondly. Motoya just then noticed he had stopped forming his onigiri and set it down on the board.
Shit, he wasn’t paying attention again.
Motoya nods gently, with a smile. “I could make more sometime if you wanted?”
“Ya’d do that?”
He shrugs, “I enjoy it and if it makes others happy too, then why not? Do you have a request?”
Osamu’s shoulders drop as he smiles fondly. “Well in that case, I love anything chocolate.”
Motoya grins as he reaches to grab another ball of onigiri waiting to be formed. “Any chocolate?”
“Any chocolate,” Osamu parrots as he turns and leans against the counter, crossing his arms. His biceps bulged with the action.
Motoya failed to acknowledge them with his eyes, also lingering on how tapered the apron made his waist.
He didn’t even realize how badly he was failing at yet another onigiri shape until Osamu let out a loud, boisterous laugh.
Motoya jumps as he focuses his eyes on the rice, frowning when he realizes that he made an even worse shape than before.
“Don’t make fun of me,” Motoya glares.
“I’m not!” Osamu chuckles, “I’m not, just–” he takes a generous step forward, until he’s standing behind Motoya.
The brunette’s breath catches as he feels Osamu’s heat at his back. He barely glances back to see how hands slowly move upwards until they encase Motoya’s own. Engulfed by the pure size of Osamu’s, Motoya's hands appeared so small.
He felt as if he were floating, his nose being filled with Osamu’s savory yet addicting scent.
“Ya have to toss around the onigiri quickly, or it won’t conform to the shape ya want it,” he whispers and his breath is sent straight down Motoya’s spine. Motoya watches with wide eyes how Osamu is not only making the rice move how he wants it, but also Motoya’s hands. Moving and shaping them like how Osamu wanted.
He was mesmerized.
“Then, ya curve yer fingers inward to shape it.”
Motoya swallows thickly, nodding his head when Osamu’s fingers dip down onto his own. His rough hands sliding over his, curating a heat between them.
He resists the urge to move back against the other, to press himself into the body encasing his own.
He wanted nothing more than to feel Osamu against him, to feel all of him. See how his body would fit, if they would create a perfect puzzle between them.
“There,” Osamu says quietly, but his tone was tinted to cheery instead of heady.
Motoya blinks quickly when Osamu begins to pull away, the warmness leaving with him, and in his wake lies a perfect triangle, sat in Motoya's palm. A perfect onigiri that he and Osamu made together.
Osamu takes a stride back, so that he could smile down at him.
“Ya did it,” he motions to Motoya’s palm as if Osamu didn’t just physically coach him in the correct direction.
The brunette tries to piece himself back together, to find his composure and sanity.
Because right now he was neither composed nor sane.
“You did it for me,” he says, his voice wavering as Osamu takes the triangle from his hand, laughing as he wasn’t just holding Motoya.
“I just helped.”
Motoya nods, swallowing thickly, trying to make the lump in his throat disappear.
So, he turns to finish the rest of his soju, swallowing it quickly to see if that would aid. Though, once the small cup was swallowed, he reached for the bottle to pour himself some more, finding that he had drank the entire glass.
Shit.
“Ya can eat some of these yannow? I saw ya barely ate any of yer dinner tonight,” Osamu voices beside him.
Motoya raises his head, about to tell him that maybe he should actually just head home, especially now that he was aware he had finished his liquor. Maybe he was less sober than he thought he was.
Yet, when his eyes connected with the other, Osamu had once again closed the gap between them.
Motoya could feel the toes of the other’s shoes pressing against his own. Their proximity was close and almost suffocating.
“How did that happen?” Osamu laughs gently to himself as he raises his hand, leaning in so close that Motoya noticed a small beauty mark under his pink lips. Plump and inviting him to come closer.
Then, there was a small brush of Osamu’s fingertips on his forehead, and a quick brush in his hair causing Motoya to shiver, fluttering his eyes.
“Ya had some rice stuck,” he smiles, looking down to Motoya’s eyes.
It was instant how Motoya felt the environment shift. The air of playfulness that Osamu was portraying grew thick. His breath slithering across Motoya’s lips. A toxic pull that Motoya couldn’t resist.
Motoya’s eyes searched the other’s as he felt that palm slide down to the side of his neck, cradling his skin and holding him in place.
It was as if he was in a trance. He couldn’t think about anything but the man across from him who was holding onto him as if he was an artifact about to shatter.
There was a brief thought in his head about consequences being damned, he didn’t care what happened, he just knew that this felt good.
At that moment, Osamu kissed him.
Motoya only briefly caught where he had turned his hat backwards so the bill didn’t hit Motoya’s forehead- then the brunette melted into him.
His lips were soft, contrasting to the hand that stroked a thumb down his jaw, they tasted salty of the rice Osamu had just eaten to make a point.
Motoya felt his hip being caught and pulled closer as he placed his hands over Osamu’s broad chest. He felt how they gave under his finger tips, the plushness of his skin conforming to him.
It all felt so good, an itch that he had needed to scratch ever since he laid eyes upon Osamu…and Suna.
Motoya gasped when Osamu began slipping his tongue in his mouth, trying to deepen what had started. Yet, it was all wrong, it wasn't right, and it was instant how the brunette had shoved Osamu back and off of him.
His eyes were wide, panicked as Osamu’s back slammed into the fridge behind him.
“Oh no,” his hand quivered over his lips as Osamu recovered and pressed his palms back against the stainless steel. “What did I do?”
“Hey, hey, calm down,” Osamu had rushed forward, his hands stretching out to comfort. Yet, when Motoya flinched back, the other retreated his gesture.
“You kissed me, oh my god. I kissed you back,” Motoya fumbles, running his hands through his hair. He quickly looks to Suna who was blissfully unaware as he had headphones shoved over his ears looking through the soju orders. “You and Suna are together,” Osamu blinks at him. “You and Suna are together,” he repeats more firmly, causing Osamu to sigh.
“Just hold on, Motoya, I’ll explain. I just got ahead of myself–”
“Explain?” Motoya’s chest tightens painfully, his limbs beginning to shake in panic. He can’t believe himself. The one thing he said he wasn’t going to do, happened.
How could he have done this? How could he be no better than his ex?
“You are in a relationship, Osamu. Which I’m to blame too because I was stupid enough to get swept away by it.”
Motoya quickly reaches behind him to take off the apron he was wearing, his vision swirling with his quick movements. He didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or because of how fast he was breathing.
“Motoya, please just wait.”
“You better tell him,” Motoya jabs a finger in Osamu’s chest. The twin blinks, looking down to the appendage. His hair mussed as it sticks through the small hole in his cap. Motoya’s bottom lip quivers, regret and shame slithering in his veins. “I can’t believe this.”
He throws the apron on the counter before he quickly walks out of the kitchen, the doors slamming on the wall behind him. The noise is so loud that it startles Suna even through his headphones where he turns around to find Motoya quickly walking through the restaurant, Osamu hot on his heels.
“Woah, what happened?” Suna asks, standing. Motoya can barely look him in the eyes, he felt so ashamed, so disgusted with himself.
He would like to blame it on the alcohol, but it was all him, he had done this.
“Wait up,” Suna had stepped in his way, leaning down to look at Motoya whose eyes were watering and large. “We can talk about whatever happened. Don’t leave like this, we were having a good night.”
Motoya wasn’t. He was having the worst night.
And it’s all because he couldn’t resist two people who were already happy.
He didn’t need to butt between them.
Yet here he was.
Motoya shakes his head. This was Atsumu’s brother and lifelong friend. The person who gave his cousin's smile back.
And Motoya was here putting everyone’s happiness on the line.
How could he? He was the last person who deserved happiness, especially after tonight.
“I’ll stay away as long as you stay away from me. Just because Atsumu is seeing my cousin doesn’t mean we need to see each other.”
“What?” Suna asks looking up to Osamu who was silent behind Motoya. “I don’t know what happened, but it doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other completely.”
“Right, you don’t know what happened and that’s the problem,” Motoya’s voice quivers as he quickly slips around Suna.
The man calls after him as Motoya walks through the doors. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes to the man who was breathing heavily at the door, Osamu’s palm holding his chest to halt him going after Motoya.
The brunette stumbles on the street, trying to collect himself as he feels the tears falling down his cheeks.
He turned into what he hated most. Someone who breaks other’s hearts.