Thread by @xingexoy

#sunaosa || hurt/no comfort, unrequited feelings

“He loves ya,” Atsumu murmurs. “Ya know? He always has.”

“I know,” Suna says.

Atsumu nods and doesn’t say anything anymore. Instead, he looks up to where Osamu stands talking to a customer.

Suna simply drinks the amber liquid in his cup and focuses on the burn sliding down his throat.

He can feel Atsumu’s gaze on him. It’s a quiet reprimand that would’ve lasted much longer had Sakusa not ushered Atsumu farther away.

Suna tries to block it out, preferring to keep himself ignorant while Atsumu whispers in worry. Even Sakusa looks concerned with the way his lips are pulled tight.

“‘Samu keeps messin’ with his hands, Omi,” Atsumu whispers. “Ya know he’s upset.”

“I know, baby,” Sakusa sighs.

From the corner of his eye, Suna can see Sakusa hold Atsumu’s hand. “But you can’t fix this one for him.”

Suna slams his glass down and huffs.

He hates this. He knows Atsumu’s been waiting for him to confess to Osamu.

Waiting for him to stand, declare that, yes, Suna feels the same. That he’s been in love this whole time and he simply needed the years to pass and for all of them to grow into bodies too big, as if getting older was a guarantee that truth could finally be seen from growing eyes.

But it wasn’t. If anything, Suna felt his grip on trying slipping away. He’s losing a battle against himself where he’s fighting for someone else.

Atsumu waits and waits, but how can Suna ever say that Atsumu will have to wait forever?

Hazel eyes turn to Osamu, but one look at dark hair and Suna’s already turning away.

Suna knows Osamu loves him. He’s known it since they were fifteen when they ran on squeaky gym floors and talked during late night walks.

He’s known it since Onigiri Miya opened and midnight texts were becoming routine despite life’s push and pull.

Suna knows Osamu loves him. He can see it in bright eyes and quiet smiles.

He knows it through gentle touches with soft words that Suna carries with him throughout the day.

Suna wishes it could’ve always been that way.

“Rin, are you in love with me?”

Osamu had stopped walking that day and Suna knew he was in trouble.

He knew because Osamu was always in a rush to get home before it got too cold, before the snow falls down and turns his dark hair into a flurry of white.

He would jog, maybe even sprint, but he’d move with a jacket fit snug on his wide shoulders and a scarf swimming with the waves of the wind.

But that day, Osamu stood still.

His jacket looked a size too big as his shoulders drooped and his scarf was covering his chin, creeping close to his lips. Suna shivered, but he knew that even if it was summer or spring, he would have still felt cold.

“I do love you.”

The words are true.

Suna knows when to lie, when to dress up words that shield him in sly smiles and the narrow of his eyes. But when the words leave his mouth, they are the truest it’s ever been.

Osamu’s shoulders sag and his eyebrows knit together.

His lip wobbles for a moment, a second, before he whispers, “Just not the way I want you to.”

Suna exhales sharply. He tries his best to maintain eye contact, but one look at gray eyes turning into glass has Suna faltering.

“Can ya at least promise me one thing?” Osamu asks.

Suna nods. Hoping his voice doesn’t quiver, he murmurs, “Of course.”

“Forget,” Osamu says. “Forget I ever asked ya. Can ya do that for me?”

Suna runs his thumb across the fabric of his jacket.

It goes back and forth, scratching his skin as the edge of the zipper digs into him with a dull ache.

“I… I can do that for you,” Suna murmurs.

The request shakes and tugs at his chest, and he so badly wishes to ignore the pinprick of relief deep in his bones. “I promise, Osamu.”

Osamu exhales sharply before shoving his hands inside his jacket pockets. Then, he smiles. “Thank ya, Suna.”

Something in Suna became colder that day. Suna had seen his hands fiddle from the inside of his jacket pocket, but Osamu’s eyes stayed fixed, down and down onto the narrow street covered in white. Suna had followed his gaze that day.

His eyes trained on the endless flurry of cold that encompassed the two of them from the surface of their skin and in the blood of their veins. Not a single time does Suna take his hands out of his pocket.

Suna sighs and pushes his glass out from him.

Glancing behind him, he can see Atsumu and Sakusa drinking again and he’s glad he’s not the topic of their conversation this time.

Suna breaks his gaze away from the two only to look up again and see Osamu staring at him.

Osamu’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, only to dissolve into a tiny smile before he turns away.

Suna doesn’t miss the way Osamu tries to hide his hands. He also doesn’t the miss the way Osamu’s thumb digs into his index finger, skin white and riddled with crescents.

Suna downs the rest of his drink. The coldness of the liquid chills his throat and makes it’s way deep into the recesses of his insides.

“I know,” he whispers to himself.

Suna loves Osamu; he knows that for sure. Suna also knows that he’s not in love with Osamu, no matter how hard he tries.

★

thank u @avivimi_ my love for Omi’s sentence I was struggling

I swear I have fluffy stuff!! I just gotta,,, finish writing it