Work Text:
Suna Rintarou has never been a particularly nostalgic person. In all his years he rarely - if at all - found himself going through old pictures, letters and videos purely because he wanted to relive a certain moment. Sure, he was notorious for having tons of pictures saved, especially in his high school days, but he wasn’t one to pull out his phone and look at them, unless it was some funny, stupid, or funny and stupid thing that has happened a particular day. Other than that, they just sat on his phone, taking up loads of storage, not that Suna cared. If it got too much, he could always delete them later.
It was because of that that he barely thought of his high school life. After all, it was nothing special. Everyone had to spend those years with some peers and everyone had to get out of there, pursuing their own dreams and ambitions, eventually forgetting about the friendships and relationships they once had or could have had. So why should he out of all people hold onto them?
Though Suna had to admit, it wasn’t like he was pushing people directly out of his life. His motto was simple: if others wanted to talk to him - and if it weren’t just some random people that he couldn’t even remember - he wouldn’t be opposed to having a chat; however, if no one reached out to him, why should he?
It was a rare day off for Suna when he, still in his pajamas and with messy hair, jogged down his apartment complexe’s stairs, once or twice nodding at some of his neighbours that he never really talked to. He was more than grateful when he saw no one standing in the small hall below, allowing him to take out his mail, some envelopes, one or two magazines and a newspaper - why was he even getting one? He could easily look through the news online - and rush back to his apartment without any uncomfortable encounters and without any kind of pressured small-talk. There he mindlessly tossed everything onto the coffee table before laying down onto the couch, throwing his legs over the armrest. After a few minutes of letting his thoughts wander, he blindly reached for his mail and grabbed the small stack of envelopes, looking through them.
As he was scanning over the white paper, rolling his eyes at his due rent and other awaiting payments - sometimes he really couldn’t stand being an adult, even if he didn’t have any problems paying the bills - one letter caught his attention. It was smaller than the rest, wrapped in cream rather than a basic white and his address was handwritten.
Furrowing his eyebrows he put the other letters in his hand back onto the table, not caring that one or two slipped off and landed on the floor, and turned it over, scanning over the sender’s information.
His yellow eyes repeatedly looked over the letters, only comprehending them after a few minutes. He hadn’t heard from his high school friends in ages, so it was safe to say that it felt weird holding a letter from his former headache but close friend Miya Atsumu after so many years of silence between them. A part of Suna wanted to be happy, maybe he got to see his old friends again? He couldn’t deny that he might have missed them indeed, the corners of his mouth tugging slightly upwards at the idea of a small reunion. He couldn’t deny that he was curious what his - former? - friends and teammates were currently doing and how life has been for them. Sure, from time to time he saw one of them post on social media or even saw an interview on the tv featuring his former setter, but that was about it.
Admittedly, the brown haired man might have ripped that envelope open a bit too enthusiastically, hurriedly taking out the content. However, his heart plummeted a bit when he took out a black and white card. Suddenly it got so much heavier in his hands as his mouth went dry, heart pumping faster in his chest.
Staring down, he tried to convince himself that this could be just a simple joke. The faux blonde twin has always been up for some pranks in his high school days. Sure, they weren’t always funny and tended to be a bit distasteful even, so who said that this couldn’t be one of those too? Suna really had to slap him once he saw him. Sending an invitation to a small get-together in a card ment for funerals and condolences was probably one of his worst jokes yet.
Looking back, the middle blocker couldn’t help but wish he would’ve thrown that letter away, left it inside of his mailbox or hell, even just ignored it. Anything but opening it and anything but being slapped in the face by it’s content. But he didn’t. Suddenly a boring, basically meaningless day became the day that shook the middle blocker’s world to the core.
It was Suna’s day off when he just got out of bed and opened a letter from his high school friend and found out that Miya Osamu died.
It felt quite literally like a punch in his gut. Suna was confused, perplexed as he stared at the beige paper, blinked repeatedly.
It couldn’t be, could it?
He could feel how his face went pale, his eyebrows furrowed.
That had to be a joke.
He took in a shallow breath, desperate to calm his racing heart.
There’s no way Osamu was gone, was there?
Clenching his eyes shut, the brown haired man threw his head back, afraid to open his eyes again.
And before he knew it, he jumped from the couch, pressing a hand onto his mouth. Stumbling into his bathroom with slurring steps he fell to his knees, pressing his forehead onto the cold porcelain.
Osamu couldn’t be gone, could he?
Suna’s form was shaking, his eyes shut as he tried to focus on his breathing and at the same time wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sit everything out.
“I never expected you to be such a nervous wreck!” Suna’s head shot up, eyes lighting up at the familiar voice. “I mean seriously, what happened to your I-don’t-care-about-anything attitude?”
Suna found himself back inside the familiar locker room, empty if it wasn’t for him and the person right next to him.
Osamu?
“Shut up” It was like his mouth moved on his own, body frozen as he sat on the bench, eyes downcast as his fingers fiddled with his phone in his hand. “I’m not a nervous wreck”
His friend - What was he doing here? What were they doing here? - only shook his head as he chuckled. “Sure” The boy rolled his eyes as he sat down beside him, nudging his shoulder a bit. “There’s no shame in admitting it”
Suna knew he was right. His younger self would’ve never admitted that, simply cussing people off that felt the need to comment on his state. He was just a teenager, a boy, thinking that anything that wasn’t his calm, collected and bored attitude made him seem weak, pathetic. It was nothing big and he had nothing to worry about. He was confident in his skills after all, confident in his team. Nervousness was useless. “Fuck off”
By now, he knew better. He had accepted that no matter how many games he played, no matter how often he stood on that court, no matter how many games he lost or won, he’d never be able to fully shake away that nervousness.
“Whatever you say” Osamu raised his hands in defeat, shaking his head. “No need to get so defensive”
Standing up, the grey haired boy got ready to leave, yet stopped as soon as he reached the door. “If I was you, I’d come with me. Or at least come out as soon as you can, you don’t want Atsumu to see you distressed” Looking over his shoulder, he shrugged as he met Suna’s raised eyebrows. “I might forget this, but my brother will never let you hear the end of this”
Weirdly enough, Suna had almost forgotten that day. It was his first match after transferring to Inarizaki, his first game with a new team filled with determined, ambitious and amazingly talented players. Despite his slouched shoulders and bored expression, his heart was racing inside of his chest. How couldn’t it? He was surrounded with these gifted and skilled players that intended to do everything in their power to win every match and were so motivated that they were willing to exhaust themselves for the team.
He had always found these people confusing, so it was no wonder that he decided to distance himself a bit from his teammates. Putting in a bored expression without any problems, not interested in forming any kind of relationship with anyone.
And yet that day was the start of his close bond with Miya Osamu.
Shaking legs brought the tall man into his bedroom, collapsing onto his messy bed. Taking a pillow and planting it over his head, Suna wanted nothing more than to drown out the guilt that pooled over him, almost drowning him. How could he not feel ashamed of himself? Osamu was the reason his high school years were more than just studying and volleyball - he was the person who was his first real friend there, the one who helped the gym be more than just a simple building but almost feel like a second home to him. The grey haired boy made him socialize and made him his friend, despite his bored and closed-off attitude. Instead of being bothered by it like most people were, he just didn’t care, slowly but surely making sure that the brown haired middle blocker felt like he belonged with him, with them.
And yet as soon as they held their diploma in their hands, they parted ways. Looking back, he felt sick to his stomach as he thought about that. He could’ve tried harder to stay in touch with him. He should have. They were so close, he always told himself that Osamu meant so much to him, he was always so grateful that he talked to him and was willing to have him as a friend and yet he didn’t even bother to give him a call.
And now the laid back boy from high school was gone.
There it was, the card still laying on his living room table, the letters printed onto the paper, and yet he didn’t want to believe it.
For the rest of the day, Suna found himself thinking back to his high school days. He couldn’t help but remember them, the many seemingly meaningless conversations, the small fights, the shared jokes and the snarky commentary - the very things that he now knew he should’ve treasured so much more, the everyday moments that he now missed so deeply.
He couldn’t help but feel like a hypocrite. If Osamu really meant so much to him, why didn’t he check on him more often? Why didn’t he send him a text after high school? Why didn’t he ask how life treated him, why didn’t he show just a tad bit interest in his life after their shared school days? Hell, why didn’t he just think about him?
And why did it take Osamu to be gone for Suna to realize this?
“Hey” Osamu nudged his friend’s shoulder, the playful small smile soon being replaced by a serious, almost worried expression.
Did something happen? Was he okay?
Suna only raised his eyebrows at him. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you constipated or what?”
Hitting his arm, the grey haired boy shook his head, muttering an insult under his breath, before looking at him again. “Fuck off, I’m serious here”
“So?” Truthfully, this was probably the first time Suna saw his best friend so concerned. He fiddled with his fingers at his sides, taking in multiple deep breaths like he had to calm himself. The middle blocker couldn’t help but mimic his breathing, subconsciously trying to calm him. Whatever made him so agitated, it had to be something serious.
“This is going to sound stupid” Osamu claimed, chuckling and avoiding Suna’s curious eyes. He stopped for a few moments before picking up again. “We’ll stay friends after high school, right?”
“Sure” Suna immediately responded, nodding, like the answer was obvious from the start, resulting in Osamu breathing out and nodding at him, a smile on his lips.
And if he wasn’t so busy mentally laughing at his best friend’s visibly relieved expression, maybe he would’ve noticed the hopeful glance in Osamu’s eyes.
The following days were nothing like a painful blur to the brunette. As soon as he stood up, he felt sick, his face visibly pale and eyebags prominent as he pushed himself through his routine, waving off any questions he got, blaming everything on a bad night of sleep or something bad he ate. However, this was probably the first time in his life that people easily saw through him, repeatedly throwing worried glances towards him. Even though something was clearly wrong with him, he acted like it wasn’t going by his day like it was like any other, only to crash once he came home, drifting into his bedroom and collapsing there, burying his face into his pillow, sleeping off the majority of his free time. And every time he laid down he found himself praying, begging for everything to be just a dream. However with every new day the guilt weighing him down only got heavier, pushing his shoulders farther down until he was almost collapsing underneath it.
Suna avoided his living room like the plague. His stomach turned at the sheer thought of entering it, seeing that card opened on his living room table. He didn’t want to read it again, he didn’t want to touch it again, he didn’t want to be reminded of what had happened and that he now lived in a world in which Osamu was just… gone.
A world in which he didn’t even get to say goodbye to the person who he once had called his best friend.
At night, Suna laid awake, tossing and turning for the first hour or two until he settled on his back, staring at the dark ceiling above him. He didn’t even try to stop his thoughts, no matter what he did they would find their way back to the grey haired boy from his high school days. Suddenly, everything they had done together seemed so precious, the insults they playfully threw at each other, the pranks they pulled at Osamu’s brother, stupid conversations they had in the locker room, the notes they had passed in class that had nothing but stupid scibbles on them. The way they rolled their eyes when the teacher had caught them, demanding they’d throw the paper away, only to pass some new doodles as soon as the teacher turned their back on the pair.
“That was fucking close” Osamu laughed as they left their classroom, shaking his head “I swear, the next time she’ll actually confiscate the note”
Suna agreed, a small smile on his lips as he looked at the grey haired boy. “We’d be screwed”
His best friend rolled his eyes. “No why would he” he replied, voice dripping in sarcasm “I think she’ll appreciate your sketch of her as a dumb monkey”
Snorting, the brunette hit Osamu’s shoulder. “What about your drawing of the counselor as a pig though”
“Have you seen him though? He literally is one!”
The two made their way down the hallway, shaking their heads and laughing at their own antics.
It had been a long time since Suna had dressed up. It was rare that he had to put on some fancy clothes and he had hoped to let them collect dust in his closet for a bit longer. He looked into the mirror with a clenched jaw, forcing himself to fix his appearance, brushing out small wrinkles and getting rid of the last dust particles.
It was obvious that the brown haired man dreaded what was about to come. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek and digging his fingernails into his palms as he took in deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
For the past days he had battled with himself, not knowing if he should even attend his - former? - best friend’s funeral. Sure, he had gotten the card, he was told the date and time so someone wanted him to come, but should he? It’s not like he had bothered to stay in Osamu’s life after high school. It’s not like he held onto their friendship and tried to stay in contact with him. No, instead he pushed away every thought of him, effectively erasing the boy from his life. It was like he had never existed, like the bond the two had and cared for so deeply had ever existed.
It was a quiet ceremony. Suna did his best to stay in the back, only exchanging a few pleasantries with some of his former friends before disappearing into the last rows again, silently mourning the grey haired boy’s passing. He felt like a stranger as he watched the other’s interact, fondly remembering their friend and family member, shedding tears but also smiling slightly as they talked, everybody silently - or not-so-silently - wishing the boy goodbye, praying for his soul, putting down flowers before the casket was sealed shut.
Just like that, he was gone.
“What do you think happens after?” The question ripped Suna out of his thoughts, staring confused at his best friend.
“After what?” he asked “High school or what?”
The grey only shrugged. “I guess. What do you want to do? Any plans? University? Volleyball? Or will you throw everything away?”
Suna furrowed his eyebrows, letting his head fall back. After a few moments of silence he answered, telling him that he didn’t know himself. The brunette didn’t have any plans, still clueless of what would happen as soon as he got his diploma. He decided to just go with the flow, as stupid as this might have sounded, and threw the question back at his best friend.
“I don’t wanna continue with volleyball” he admitted, sighing “Want to do something with food. Sounds nice, don't you think?”
Suna rolled his eyes. “Fatass” he muttered, feeling the corners of his lips tug upwards “Suits you. Bet it’ll be great”
Osamu sighed, a similar smile on his lips. “I hope so”
“So you really showed up, huh?” Suna didn’t have to turn around to notice Atsumu next to him, glaring at his sorrowful expression. By now everyone besides the two of them had left, leaving home wondering for how long he had been staring at the grave.
Swallowing down a lump, he took in a deep breath, turning to his side to face him - his friend? Former friend? “Atsumu, I’m sorry-”
The setter’s hand shot up, immediately cutting Suna off.“Don’t even bother. I didn’t want you to come.” he stated coldly, looking away from his former friend as he clenched his jaw “He wanted to”
Yellow eyes glanced down as he nodded his head, as he whispered. “I understand”
And somehow this small, almost meaningless sentence sparked something inside Atsumu, who angrily turned his head towards the brunette, rage visible in his eyes. “You don’t understand shit” he spat.
Suna’s hands formed into fists at his side as he bit down onto his lip. There was a part of him that wanted to disagree. He felt ashamed for wanting to defend himself, yelling at the blonde that he did understand, that he understood how he felt, because the truth was, he didn’t.
Suna had just lost a person he might have called his best friend once but by now was nothing more than just a stranger to him. But Atsumu? Atsumu lost his brother, his twin - quite literally his other half.
So instead he only nodded, too ashamed to even look him in the eyes.
The silence that settled over the two of them was uncomfortable, tugging at them, almost forcing Suna to say anything. He had never felt pressured when it was quiet, never bothered to fill it with some meaningless words. But right now he was desperate to say something, anything, to escape. He wanted to get rid of the guilt and shame weighing him down and stop the accusing glare he saw every time he looked into the mirror.
“I’m sorry” he whispered again, earning a huff from the blonde beside him. “I’m so fucking sorry”
“Do you even know what you’re sorry for? Or are you saying that just to say something?” The setter questioned, eyes staring holes into him. His cold tone felt like a knife that stabbed into his chest, twisting it with every word he spoke. “If that’s the case, no thanks, don’t even bother”
He turned around, now staring at his brother's grave. Suna noticed how he his his hands, into his pockets and he was sure that he clenched them into tight fists. At least, he wouldn’t blame him if he did so.
Before the middle blocker could stop himself, he spoke again. “Thank you for telling me” He cleared his throat, afraid that his voice would shake. “I appreciate that”
“Oh stop that bullshit, Suna” the setter spat, rolling his eyes at him “I don’t give a shit. If it was me, I wouldn’t have told you”
Slowly nodding, Suna stared down. Of course he wouldn’t. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t have done so himself. After all, whatever they once had, whatever they once were, everything was gone as soon as they stepped out of their high school - and it’s not like Suna had ever wanted to stay in his life. “I don’t blame you”
“Stop being so fucking cold and distant about this!” Atsumu raged, staring at the brunette with an angry face “Do you even care? You lost your best friend, I lost my fucking brother, don’t you get this? And you’re still here the very same bored expression on your fucking face like it doesn’t even matter”
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t taken aback. Atsumu’s harsh but true words felt like a punch into his gut, and honestly, in that moment Suna wished Atsumu had really punched him. It would be intense, yes, but nothing compared to the shame and pain he was confronted with right now, the knowledge of never being able to make up for the damage he had done, never being able to lessen the hurt he had caused.
Because Osamu was gone.
“Say something!” Atsumu demanded, glaring at his former teammate. “Tell me you had a reason to abandon us, no, especially abandon him!”
Much to his dismay however, Suna’s words got stuck in his throat. He wanted to cry out, he wanted to yell, tell him how sorry he was, tell him how much it hurt him to lose the grey haired boy. He wanted to scream how he wished he could turn back time, how he regretted not ever visiting him, calling him or even not thinking of him. He wanted to scream how he knew he had no right to mourn for him because he wasn’t there for him, because he wouldn’t have even known of his passing if it wasn’t for Osamu’s twin, and yet he couldn’t get a word out. Instead he only managed to look at the blonde with his jaw clenched.
“So you’re just going to be quiet, huh?” Scoffing, Atsumu turned away from him, shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”
Suna didn’t miss how his former teammate's voice became hoarse, like he was trying his best to suppress a sob. He confirmed his suspicion when he looked to his side. With his head cast downwards, Atsumu bit down onto his lip, staring down with slightly moist eyes.
“I never meant to hurt any of you. Especially not him” Suna finally whispered, digging his nails into his palm to suppress his hands from shaking.
“Bullshit” the blonde spat immediately, throwing a harsh glance at Suna. Raising his hand, Atsumu pointed at Suna accusingly, finger slightly shaking with rage. “He just wanted you to be there with him! But you weren’t! You went back to being that silent dude that seemed like didn’t want to care for anyone besides himself!”
God, how much the middle blocker begged for a slap to his face right now. He would endure everything, if it meant that Atsumu would shut up. Honestly, he felt horrible even thinking about this. The setter had every right to confront him with his behaviour, he had every right to hurt him just like his brother was hurt when Suna disappeared from his life. And the brunette had no right for any kind of mercy, no right to be spared by this hurt, and yet he couldn’t help but pray for it to stop.
“You’re an asshole, Suna, that’s all you are. You clearly didn’t give a shit about him, so why are you even here?”
“Because he was my best friend” Suna whispered, avoiding Atsumu’s gaze. Even though he hurt him, even though they hadn’t heard from each other in years, even though they didn’t bother to stay in touch - didn’t he have a right to mourn for him too? Because even if they hadn’t talked for months, years, even if he hadn’t thought about the grey haired boy in so long, they were still best friends. They had still spent their high school years together, they had still played on the same team and they still believed once that they were inseparable.
“Oh, was he?”the blonde mocked, shaking his head. He stepped closer to the brunette, clenching his hands at his sides before taking in a shaken breath, unsuccessfully trying to calm himself before speaking again. “That’s why you didn’t even bother to check up on him, right? That’s why you moved on like he was nothing. That’s why you broke his heart, right?”
Suna stepped back, blinking repeatedly as he looked at the setter. “I didn’t-” he stuttered, shaking his head in disbelief. But he did, didn’t he? “I didn’t think he’d-”
Yet he was immediately cut off by Atsumu, who didn’t seem to hesitate to shove the brunette back. “Of course you didn’t think about him! The great Suna Rintarou that cares about nobody but himself!”
He couldn’t deny that he wanted to shout, make him take it back, make him realize that he too was allowed to mourn, that he was allowed to stand in front of the grave with tears brimming in his eyes and a heavy heart, every memory of the opposite hitter tearing him apart. Yet Suna couldn’t get a word out, leaving the setter to shove him farther away as he choked out more and more harsh words.
“He had his life planned out!” Suna cried out, taking a step closer to the blonde again. He couldn’t help but raise his voice, he couldn’t just stand there as Atsumu continued to undermine him. He wouldn’t allow himself to have his feelings disregarded, to being told that he had no right to stand here and be affected by Osamu’s passing. “He knew exactly what he wanted, just like you! He was so ambitious, so determined to make his dream come true!”
However, Atsumu only continued to yell. “What the fuck has that got to do with you? What the hell has this got to do with anything?” He stepped closer to the middle blocker, pushing him even further away with a violent shove, making the middle blocker stumble over his feet.
“He didn’t need me!” Suna yelled desperately, finally speaking up about what the real reason behind his silence was.
Because no matter how Suna looked at it, Osamu didn’t need him, he never needed him. And it would only be a matter of time until he would have realized it. No matter how selfish this might have been, Suna wouldn’t want to be left alone. Suna wouldn’t want to be left behind, wondering why he wasn’t good enough, why he lost the very person he cared so much about.
“How the fuck would you know?” Atsumu yelled back “Have you ever thought that maybe he wanted you to be there with him?”
There was no way.
“Why would he?” Suna shook his head, swallowing down a lump in his throat. “What good would a deadpan, lazy and snarky, no, fucking rude person do for him?” And that was just what he was. If Suna had learned anything in his life it was that no one needed someone like him in their lives.
Atsumu however was about to completely alter his perception of that. Frustrated, he stepped closer again, balling his hand into a tight fist, punching the brown haired man as he yelled out. “He didn’t care about that! Samu fucking loved you!”
Love?
And somehow, this revelation hurt more than anything else.
Suddenly, all the words got stuck in his throat as his mind was running laps.
Love?
There was no way.
Asumu however didn’t allow the gravity of this discovery sink into him, instead continuing after just a few seconds of silence, repeatedly poking his chest. “And all you did was break him. Do you have an idea how much you hurt him? Do you have an idea how many times he wanted to call you but was too afraid to pick up his phone because you moved on from him like he was a fucking nobody!”
A nobody? How could Suna tell him that Osamu was so much more to him? The grey haired boy was everything to him. He was convinced that he had made him a better person, he was the one who made him feel like he was so much more.
Osamu was more than Suna could have ever wished for - and now he was gone. And nothing would compare to the pain he felt. Knowing that he had felt the same, knowing that Suna had been just what Osamu was to him made all the late nights seem so different, every second they spent with each other became so much more.
And the guilt he felt became so much heavier. His shoulders slumped even more and the tears finally, finally rolled over his cheeks as he stared at the man that looked just like his love.
Oh how he wishes he would’ve told him.
Everything could’ve been so different if he had just told him.
“The only reason you’re here is because he wanted you to” Atsumu turned on his heels, leaving the brunette’s shaking figure behind him. He took a few steps before he stopped, hands clenching at his sides like he was hesitating. And that was when the faux blonde turned his head, looking back at Suna over his shoulder.
He looked just like Osamu did that day.
“But don’t you dare stand before me and tell me that you cared”
As it turned out, Suna Rintarou was more nostalgic than he cared to admit. After so many years he still held onto those very old pictures taken with shaky hands and an old phone camera - even transferring them onto his new phone whenever he got one. He kept every precious memory with him in his pocket, no matter where he went, at all times.
No matter how hard he tried to, no matter how often he told himself he would, Suna Rintarou just couldn’t let go - especially not of Miya Osamu.