Miyacest “Ya don’t love me the way ya say ya do,” Atsumu yells. “Not anymore.” There’s blood spilling from his nose, over the swell of his lips. His eyes are red from crying, and he looks so defeated. It breaks Osamu’s heart to see it. “Don’t ya ever say that to me,” Ossmu

croaks. He’s pointing at his brother when he should be pointing at himself. “I’ll never love anybody like I love ya.” Atsumu snorts, ugly and wet. “That so? Then why don’t ya touch me anymore? Don’t even sleep in the same bed as me? Ya don’t even look at me anymore,” Atsumu

wipes his face. “Ya fell out of love with me and didn’t even have the balls to tell me.” Osamu feels winded, gutted. He’s been busy lately, he can admit. He’s been working so much, opening a new store, hiring new people, coming up with recipes. Osamu’s exhausted. He can barely

find the energy to drag himself into their apartment every night. They haven’t been intimate in months. Every time Atsumu initiates, Osamu shrugs him off. Telling him not now, or I’m busy, or ‘Tsumu I’m tired. Until eventually Atsumu stops trying. Spends more time outside of

the apartment than in it. They don’t eat their meals together, and Osamu can feel his brother slipping from his fingers. Sees the way Sakusa looks at his twin. Atsumu had never looked back before. Not ever. But he’s more open to it, to Sakusa. It’s eating Osamu up inside.

It’s killing him. He put his career in front of his soul mate. Put his needs above Atsumu’s. Didn’t communicate his stress. He just pushed until Atsumu stumbled to someone else. “Yer the one fucking someone else. Not me,” and it’s a low blow. It hurts to even say. Ossmu hates

the sound of the shower turning on whenever he gets back from Sakusa’s apartment. He listens to the water as he stares at the ceiling wondering how he got in this position. “Ya haven’t even looked at me, Osamu. You don’t even see me anymore.” Atsumu scrubs harder at his eyes.

“I love ya. I’ll never want anyone else, but I can’t stay. Yer killing me, yer killing us.” Osamu never thought about life without his brother. Never imagined a day like this would come. It feels like the earth dropped out beneath his feet. It feels like a thorn bush growing in

his chest. It feels worse than death. “Nonono, baby.” Osamu can’t stop himself from invading Atsumu’s space. Pushing him against the wall, cradling his head. “I love ya, I swear to ya. I’ll do anything. We can make this work.” There’s tears on both their faces, bruises and blood

from their fight. Atsumu’s shaking his head, body trembling. “It’s too late,” Atsumu sobs. “It hurts too much.” Osamu feels his panic grow. He leans in and licks the blood from his brother’s mouth, kissing his cupid’s bow and chin. He drags Atsumu by the hair to kiss him.

Really kiss him for the first time in months. Atsumu shakes, but his mouth drops open. Osamu presses at the hinge of his jaw, tongue delving into Atsumu’s hot and wet mouth. He tastes tears and blood, but mostly desperation. “Please don’t say that to me,” Osamu begs when he

pulls away. “I love ya. Just ya. I’ll stop working so much, I’ll be home every night. I won’t push you away. Please.” Atsumu’s eyes are swollen, but they search his for the truth. “‘Samu,” and it doesn’t sound like a yes. Osamu drops to his knees, hiding his tears in his

brother’s hips. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t give up on me. I couldn’t live without ya,” Osamu wraps his arms around his twin’s waist. “Please. Tell me I didn’t ruin us. Tell me ya still want me.” Their apartment is silent for a long moment. Osamu feels his heart clench.

Then long, calloused, fingers thread through his hair. Tilting his face up. “It’s just ya. Always. I’ve never looked at anyone else,” a lone tear marks Atsumu’s cheek. “Fuck.” “Yer so stupid. There’s no one else fer me.” Atsumu’s bottom lip trembles. “Same. I promise. I’ll do

better. I’ll be better.” Osamu kisses Atsumu stomach and hips. Apologies. Love. Pain. “Okay.” They stay that way for a long time, before sliding into bed together. They both cry when Osamu pushes into Atsumu. Sweat and tears mingling. They aren’t perfect. But they are in love.

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