#miyacestober2022 day 24 • courtship + toxic // osamu returns to his dorm room that day to find his twin brother looking sullen on his bed. it doesn't seem serious though, so osamu just lets him be as he unpacks his bag. +

but then atsumu sighs. and keeps sighing, dramatic and loud, clearly wanting osamu's attention. osamu ignors him for a while longer, just to tease, before finally asking, "what's up, tsumu?" atsumu sighs again before lamenting, "am i really that unpopular, samu? +

i mean, i /feel/ like i get a decent amount of attention, and i've definitely flirted with others before, but... isn't it weird i've never gotten a confession or love letter? not even for valentine's day, and everyone gets something then!" +

osamu is frozen to the spot. he'd been taking his notebooks out of his bag, and finishes placing them on the table with more care than necessary, focusing all his efforts on it, moving like a robot. he hums, to acknowledge atsumu's words, but doesn't otherwise say anything. +

"even /you've/ gotten stuff, samu!" and osamu is too anxious right now to feel offended by the insult. "and we're twins, so surely that meant /i/ should've—" atsumu sighs again, before flopping back onto his bed. osamu says, "you'll get 'em some day, tsumu," +

because he had to say /something/, otherwise atsumu would start to get suspicious. "yeah, but i want 'em /now/! while i'm young and beautiful, and can enjoy it!" osamu rolls his eyes. then, he looks at his drawer, the one he forbids atsumu from touching. +

that's their only, concrete rule in this space. they each have a drawer that belongs only to them, and no matter what, no matter /what/, they are not to touch. they swore on each other's lives, on their twinship. osamu is vaguely aware that atsumu keeps sex toys in his, +

but in /his/ drawer, well. after a quick glance to confirm that atsumu isn't looking his way, he quietly opens his drawer to peek at its contents. there's a few random papers on top, just to keep atsumu away if he /did/ break their promise, +

but beneath that lies dozens upons dozens of letters. some dating back to middle school, the latest scrunched in osamu's hand. love letters, confessions, poems, all addressed to atsumu, in osamu's possession. he didn't mean to, at first. +

he'd gladly accepted the first love letter addressed to atsumu, and fully intended to pass it along to his brother in the girl's stead. but then, that afternoon at volleyball practice, osamu watched atsumu hit a jump serve for the first time. +

it had not been particularly powerful, nowhere near as impressive as they are now, but atsumu was /elated/ and then he ran to osamu and swept him up into a hug and— osamu could not deliver that letter. he could not bear the thought of atsumu looking at someone else like that, +

hugging and spinning someone else like that, /loving/ someone else like that. so instead he shoved it into the bottom of his drawer. it's weird, honestly, the number of people who come to /osamu/ asking him to pass on a message to his brother. +

+to the ones that mistake osamu for his twin, he rejects them outright. doesn't explain that he's actually osamu, seeing no point in lengthening out the process. osamu sees, sometimes, the way atsumu watches the couples in their school with wistful eyes. +

sighing at their courtship, the flowers and chocolates and teddy bears, clearly wishing for the same. he'd even encouraged osamu to pursue his own relationship, when he was there to witness someone confess to him, +

because 'if i can't experience it then let me live vicariously through ya!' but osamu couldn't, he wouldn't. just as atsumu belonged to osamu, osamu belonged to atsumu. so osamu continues staving off his own confessors as well as atsumu's, +

collecting and stealing his letters for his own collection. maybe one day osamu will write a letter of his own. maybe one day he will confess his love for his twin, and they can begin their own courtship. but for now, well. for now, this is the way things are.