Kuroo’s influence in the promotional sports industry knew no bounds, but, then again, that didn’t surprise anybody. With his charm and eloquence, it was no wonder he was able to arrange something as outrageous as an international volleyball league convergence at the critically acclaimed Sportur Travel Beach Volleyball Camp in Cervia, Italy. Not only did eight select members of the Japan’s V.League get to attend, but so did players from other professional teams around the world they’d never played against, like Germany and France—and then, of course, one team they had played against before: Argentina.
Komori had to admit that the look on Iwaizumi’s face as they all prepared to board the plane was downright terrifying. He leaned over toward Sakusa, his wide eyes never leaving the sadistic grin their athletic trainer wore as he compulsively cracked his knuckles.
“...You think he’s gonna be okay?” he whispered. Sakusa hummed in question, reluctantly lifting his half-lidded eyes from the book he was reading to see what Komori was talking about. After barely a moment of consideration, his gaze returned to the pages without a second thought.
“Iwaizumi can control himself, and if he doesn’t, that’ll be his problem,” he answered curtly. Komori chuckled and shouldered his carry-on, standing in preparation for their gate number to be announced.
Now he could see over the rows of chairs in the lobby where a certain pair of Miya twins were all but duking it out in the middle of the aisle.
“I don’t even know why ya wanted me to come along to this thing. I hope ya realize how much of an inconvenience ya are to the rest o’ yer team,” Osamu criticized, slapping Atsumu’s hand away from a suitcase. “That one’s mine.”
“Can’t ya jus’ be grateful ya get the chance t’go t’freakin’ Italy?!” Atsumu countered, slapping his brother’s hand in turn. “Besides, Cap’n already cleared it an’ now yer the only one bitchin’ about it! This’ll be the last time I ever try t’do somethin’ nice fer ya, ya ungrateful scrub.”
“Oh, please let it be the last,” Osamu muttered, ushering in another wave of the argument.
Komori sighed and shook his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have Osamu come along—on the contrary, he rather enjoyed that twin’s company—but it seemed like every time those two were put in the same room together, chaos ensued. It boggled his mind that they were still able to live in the same house together even after all this time. He figured they would have killed each other by now.
Squabbles aside, once their flight began boarding, Meian was quick to usher everyone toward the terminal, throwing in a few threats for good measure to ensure that the twins behaved for the duration of their twenty-hour-long flight.
Sheesh… Every time I think about how long it’ll take, I get antsy, Komori brooded, already feeling his eyes grow heavy just from the mere thought of being crammed on a plane with his madhouse team for that long. Fortunately, they would have about a four-hour-long layover right before the final stretch, so at least they would have a chance to stretch their legs a little and expel all the stir-crazy before they arrived at their destination. Plus, it would be in Paris! How cool was that?
Still…he couldn’t help but think to himself, his frown drawing that much deeper, that’s, like, fourteen hours in one place. How will any of us survive this?
It was an Olympian feat that would require a Herculean effort in kind. As long as he didn’t think about the fact that they would have to endure the same trip on the way back, he would be fine. Probably.
...Maybe.
“Hey, Cap, what class are we riding, anyways?” Bokuto asked from amidst the entourage as they made their way through the gate.
“If Kuroo put us in economy, I’m just gonna go home,” Tsukishima muttered from behind him. Bokuto let out a low whistle and snickered.
“Uh oh, Tsukki’s gone bougie. Better not disappoint!”
“Actually,” Meian began, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that dripped with satisfaction. “We’re ridin’ business.”
There was a collective whoop of cheering from the team, though their excitement was quickly stifled by one sharp glare from Iwaizumi in the front as the security guards they passed gave them scrutinizing looks.
“If any of you ruins this for me, you’re doing suicides for a week,” he said without a hint of sarcasm. Komori swallowed through a thin-lipped smile. “I’ve never been on a business class flight before and I plan to enjoy every minute of it, so keep yourselves in check so I don’t have to.”
“As long as I don’t gotta sit next to my lesser half the whole time, I’ll be fine,” Osamu commented.
“Hah?! Who’re ya callin’ the ‘lesser half’? If anyone’s the superior twin here, it’s me!”
“Yer inferiority complex is showin’.”
“I don’t got a inferiority complex!”
“Quit yelling before you get us kicked off the flight, moron,” Sakusa warned, pushing past the two of them as he practically hugged the wall to avoid touching anyone.
“‘
Samu started it!”
“And I’m gonna finish it if you don’t pipe down!” Meian chimed as they approached the plane doors.
Yup. This is gonna be a fun twenty hours.
Actually, it didn’t turn out to be so bad. Given, the first three hours, give or take, were kind of a nightmare. The twins were still at each other’s throats for most of it (Suna didn’t exactly goad them on, but he had no qualms recording everything, likely for blackmail later), Bokuto couldn’t resist prodding at Tsukishima at every opportunity (and Kuroo did nothing but encourage him), and Hinata was scarcely in his seat once the initial turbulence of taking off had passed. Sakusa, for his part, kept to himself and wasted no time donning a sleep mask and a pair of earbuds to drown out the noise, while Meian and Iwaizumi chatted idly amoungst themselves, seeming to hit it off quite nicely in between the threats and warnings they chucked around every so often to keep the chaos at a manageable level, while also apologizing to the sparse other passengers in the cabin.
Komori was content to enjoy the scenery from his window seat while he helped himself to the contents of the minibar (mainly to nurse the headache that had begun to take root in his temples). Once everyone had more or less worn themselves out, the boisterous clamour died down to a far less ingratiating level. Komori felt himself exhale as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time, closing his eyes just for a moment, only to feel the drowsiness hit him like a truck. In like fashion to his cousin, Komori finally drifted off to sleep.
It was only a couple hours later that he awoke to the abrupt sound of a bottle cap cracking open. He startled a bit, his bleary eyes blinking open to survey his surroundings, though he didn’t get far before a yawn overcame him. He raised a hand to cover his mouth, vision slowly clearing until he was able to make out one of the Miya twins by the minibar.
“Sorry,” Osamu offered quietly, gesturing to the sports drink in his hand. “Didn’t mean to wake ya.”
Komori gave him a reassuring smile and shook his head.
“No, it’s fine. It’s better if I sleep in waves during flights, anyway,” he said with a chuckle. “Otherwise I get this killer migraine from sleeping too long. I guess it’s something to do with the altitude.”
“That makes sense,” Osamu said, moving to take a seat across from Komori.
The cabin wasn’t totally booked, so there were still a couple empty seats here and there, but that wasn’t too surprising. He imagined not many people wanted to hazard a twenty-hour flight under any circumstance, especially not at the steep prices of anything above economy. Komori was still amazed they had been able to book business class tickets for everyone; that must have burned a hole straight through someone’s pocket. Although, if Kuroo had anything to do with it, he’d probably managed to swing some sort of deal. He was good at sweet-talking like that. That, or maybe his friend Kenma pitched in.
“...So are you excited to see Italy?” Komori asked, trying to make conversation.
He hadn’t had many chances to talk with Atsumu’s brother one-on-one. They had been at events together, gone to the same games, but their company was usually buffered by Sakusa, or Atsumu, or both, or any number of other people. Actually, he was pretty sure the only time he could remember having a direct conversation with Osamu was when he came into Onigiri Miya one time to grab an order for Suna and Washio, but that was short-lived.
“Hm… I guess so,” Osamu replied, sipping from his drink as he glanced out the plane window. “I’ve never been there before, but it’s not like I’ve always wanted to go there or nothin’.” He shrugged, turning back to Komori with an expression that could only be described as unreadable. “What ‘bout you?”
“Oh, uh, I’m kinda excited! I mean, I’ve never been there before, either, but I’ve always wanted to travel since I was little, so I’m really looking forward to the experience,” he said, smiling a bit wider. “And getting to play against other national teams will be fun! Especially since it’s just a training camp and not something super high-stakes like the Olympics.”
Their match against Argentina was still fresh in Komori’s mind, along with all the anxiety and pressure that came with it. He had played alongside some equally amazing and terrifying players in his time, but standing on that court with that team was like literally standing on top of Mount Olympus, gods included. He’d felt so small back then, every doubt he’d conjured about whether or not he was suited to play in that game cropping up in his mind one after the other. It was a gut-wrenching feeling, right up until he got out onto the court and started receiving spikes and serves like he always had. It was difficult to remind himself that he’d earned his way to the top sometimes, even if it didn’t always feel real.
“Oh, yeah. I saw ya durin’ that match. Yer a great libero,” Osamu said. Komori blinked once, then twice.
It was one thing to give himself a pep-talk to silence his doubts, but to be praised by someone else? Directly? Not just as a facet of a superbly talented team? He could almost cry.
“Th-thank you! Uh, you were really good when you played volleyball, too!” he said. “I watched a lot of your Inarizaki matches. You and Atsumu were so cool!” Osamu snorted, waving a dismissive hand.
“‘Cool’ ain’t how I’d describe it. All o’ Tsumu’s li’l stunts an’ gimmicks were exhaustin’ half the time an’ the other half o’ the time we were just arguin’.” He heaved a breath then, letting his shoulders slump as he tilted back his head to stare up at the ceiling of the plane. “Sometimes it was great, yeah. We’d get a win or do somethin’ totally unexpected an’ it was like, wow, we can actually do that, huh? But mostly it just strained our relationship in ways that could’a been avoided, I think.”
Komori pressed his lips together. He had clearly prodded at something that was maybe a bit too personal without meaning to. He probably shouldn’t have brought up the twins’ past; after all, there was a reason Osamu quit playing volleyball entirely, wasn’t there?
“Yer probably thinkin’ we’re some kinda dysfunctional duo with inter-familial trauma that got in the way o’ the game, ain’t ya?” Osamu noted. Komori’s eyes widened, his hands flying up to wave in front of him as he opened his mouth to protest, but Osamu just chuckled. “Don’t worry. It ain’t like that, though. ‘Tsumu’s a huge pain in my ass, but he’s my brother. I wouldn’t let nothin’ come between us like that. I just stopped playin’ ‘cause I wanted to do somethin’ else. Volleyball just didn’t scratch the itch anymore…or more like, it didn’t satisfy my hunger.”
With words like that, one would think Osamu would have chased after something far more challenging and rewarding, but in the end he just opened an onigiri shop as a cook. It seemed pretty lacklustre in comparison, but maybe that “hunger” Osamu talked about wasn’t entirely metaphorical.
“Well…at least you two seem to be doing better now?” Komori offered carefully. “He invited you to come on this trip all expenses paid, after all.” Osamu hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the sports drink balanced on his lap.
“...Yeah, we’re okay now. But I’m pretty sure he only dragged me along ‘cause he wanted a buffer.” Komori tilted his head at that.
“A buffer?”
“Between him an’ Sakusa. It’s—ah, well, I probably shouldn’t say…” Osamu rubbed the back of his neck. Komori leaned forward, his gaze growing several degrees more serious, albeit with the unmistakable twinge of mischief.
“You really, really should.”
“I still can’t believe it. Are you sure he didn’t just lie to make up an excuse for you to come?” Komori asked as they disembarked their plane at their connection in Paris, France.
He couldn’t help but watch with uncertainty as Atsumu heckled Sakusa in front of them, pulling down his eyelid and sticking out his tongue to which Sakusa replied with an all too withering expression, plain to see even with half his face hidden behind a mask. Osamu sighed.
“I wish. Nah, he went on a whole spiel about it after he finally told me ‘cause I said I wasn’t goin’ otherwise,” he explained, wrinkling his nose. “It was kinda gross. He almost cried.”
Komori’s eyes widened.
“Atsumu? Crying? Now I know you’re pulling my leg.” Osamu chuckled, nudging his arm with his elbow.
“I said almost. He’s still too damn proud to put the sob in sob story. Was enough to convince me, though.”
“It was nice of you to go along with it, at least,” Komori noted, shouldering his bag as they walked. “I guess he was never going to ask any of us if he thought we might rat him out.”
“Yeah, he’s kinda paranoid like that. Ya think he’d learn to trust other people at some point.”
“Alright, everybody, listen up!” Meian gathered everyone’s attention with two claps of his hands once they were outside of the airport. They all stood at attention as he continued. “We have about three hours before we need to get back here to catch our connection. Actually, make that two and a half, since I know some of you like to push your deadlines a little too far.”
He looked directly at Atsumu, Hinata, and finally Suna in turn, all of whom pointedly avoided his gaze. Although, Suna looked a little more annoyed that Meian even happened to know about his habits despite not playing on the same teams.
“That’ll give us a good window to make sure everyone gets through security and bag checks in time. If you don’t get on that plane, it’s not gonna wait around for you, so don’t dawdle, don’t go far, and don't get arrested. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Dismissed!”
Komori was giddy. Two and a half hours in Paris? It was no vacation, but it was still exciting! While Osamu wandered off to keep track of Atsumu, Komori found his way to Sakusa, though it seemed like his cousin was only interested in finding his way to the nearest bench.
“Hey, man, what are you doing?” Komori all but whined, slinking his shoulders as Sakusa took his perch, hands in his pockets.
“Waiting for the connection flight,” he answered dryly. Komori rolled his eyes.
“You can’t tell me you don’t want to look around even a little bit! Come on, it’s Paris! We’re in, like, the most famous city in the world and all you wanna do is sit on a bench for two and a half hours?”
“Yup.”
With an exasperated groan, Komori grabbed Sakusa by his shoulders and dragged him back to his feet, ignoring his half-hearted protests as Komori pushed him toward the sidewalk.
“Nuh-uh. No way is my baby cousin sitting this one out. Live a little! Experience something new for once! Look—street food! Let’s try some.”
“I’d literally rather roll over and die than eat foreign street food,” Sakusa said, his face scrunched up in that signature look of “I just ate a mouthful of dirt.” Komori stopped pushing at his shoulders to look up at him with his hands on his hips.
“You know what you are?” he asked. “A coward. That’s what you are.” Sakusa’s brows drew together at a different angle, one Komori recognized easily as the signs of provocation. “You get stuck in these neat little boxes you make for yourself and you’re afraid to ever step out of them.”
“I’m not afraid—”
“You know, a couple months ago you told me not to buy you any new clothes for your birthday because you weren’t going to wear them for five laundry cycles anyway, even though the clothes you were wearing were practically falling apart at the seams from over-washing.”
“...What does that have to do with—”
“You didn’t even come out to watch the fireworks on New Year’s Eve because you said it was ‘too cold’ and you didn’t want anyone sneezing on you.”
“Everyone was getting sick—”
“When you got offered an acceptance letter into Kyoto University when you graduated, you turned it down and wrote back, ‘I’m not interested in a classist education’, which, you know, good on you, but also that could have been so good for you!”
“How do you even know about that?!”
“Because I was the one who referred you and they told me when you declined the offer!”
Komori took a deep breath, willfully ignoring the shock in Sakusa’s eyes.
“Look, what I’m trying to say is that…well, you kinda self-sabotage a lot. When you don’t think something will work out, you just don’t even try, and you’re missing out on a lot of opportunities that way. I know you like living inside your little bubble where you don’t have to lose anything, but…sometimes I just wanna pop it, you know?”
They stared at each other for a long, drawn-out moment. After a certain point, Komori began to wonder if maybe he’d gone a bit too far, swallowing down his rising nerves in preparation to apologize. Before he could, though, Sakusa broke their unannounced staring contest by turning around and walking away.
“Wh— Hey! Where are you going?” Komori called after him, stumbling to catch up.
“To show you that I’m not a coward. Or a bubble boy.”
Komori’s step faltered at that, blinking before a smile lit up his face. He laughed as he caught up to Sakusa, raising his hands behind his head.
“Your words, not mine~”
True to his word, Sakusa did try a street crêpe, and even though he didn’t say it, the fact that he continued to eat it without throwing it into the nearest trashcan after one bite was enough to prove that he didn’t mind it, and may have even liked it. It was a small step, but Komori was still proud of him. He still felt a little bad about pushing his buttons like that, but sometimes Sakusa needed a little push to step outside of his comfort zone and try something new. And it didn’t stop there! After that, Komori spotted a book cafe, noting to Sakusa that the book he’d brought on the trip with him was one that he’d read at least a dozen times over by now.
His successfully suggestive suggestion led them into the book cafe, where not only did Sakusa find a couple of interesting new books to sample, but he also ordered a rather strange concoction they’d never heard of called “The Blind Abbot”. Wanting to support his cousin, Komori ordered one for himself. Of course, they didn’t understand anything the barista had tried to explain to them about the drink, but it sounded exotic enough, so bottoms up!
While Komori found himself pleasantly surprised by the note of whiskey, albeit unsure of the mixture of flavours he was tasting, it only took that initial sip for Sakusa to cough and sputter and push his drink away from him. He complained about how he hated cold brew coffee and the addition of alcohol only made it that much worse. Komori laughed and agreed to drink his coffee for him since he was being so picky about it. Once everything started settling on his tongue, he found that he rather enjoyed the drink and decided that he would be looking for recipes later on.
They spent about an hour in the book cafe before moving on to find something else to do. Sadly, Sakusa couldn’t take any of the books with him, but he had made a list of some of the titles so he could find them later as well. He admitted, reluctantly, that it was nice to start a fresh story for once and not know what was going to happen next. Komori grinned, made a comment about how his baby cousin was finally growing up, and reflexively dodged the knee aimed at the back of his legs.
They ended up at the apex of some bridge or another—there were so many of them in Paris that Komori couldn’t keep track of which ones were notable and which ones were just bridges, but this one had a pretty view of the river underneath all the same—when they spotted a couple of familiar faces coming up the opposite way.
“Glad to see you two haven’t ripped each other’s heads off yet,” Komori joked as Osamu and Atsumu approached, appearing to have been in the midst of quite the riveting conversation. Of course, Atsumu’s easy expression changed the moment he caught sight of Sakusa, the corner of his lips tugging down and his chin lifting as if already trying to issue a challenge.
“Well, we are in the City o’ Love, I guess, so it’d be lame if we didn’t put aside our differences while we’re here,” Osamu said, hands in his pockets. He threw Atsumu a side-eyed glance, nudging his arm to knock him out of his deadlock glare with Sakusa. “That means you two gotta play nice, too, ya know.”
“What a shame, Miya only knows how to play dirty,” Sakusa retorted, his gaze never leaving Atsumu’s.
“Oi, there’s two of us here right now. Ya can’t just call me Miya the whole time or yer insulin’ my brother, too,” Atsumu pointed out with narrowed eyes.
“Oh, pardon me. I’d hate to offend the superior twin, At-su-mu.” Sakusa emphasized each syllable with a lilting drag. Komori rubbed at his face.
“You guuuys… Can’t you just put a lid on it for the next hour?” he pleaded. “Actually, the next three hours would be great. We still have to make our connection to Italy.” He knew it would be too much to ask that they cooperate for the entire week, but if they could at least make it to their destination, they didn’t have to worry about having their flight cancelled on them. Until it was time to come back home, that is.
“I’m done if he is,” Sakusa said.
Atsumu clicked his tongue, turning away to go lean against the railing of the bridge instead. Sakusa scoffed, turning his back to Atsumu while also overlooking the scene below the bridge. Komori and Osamu stepped back a little, watching them from afar with tired eyes. Well, Osamu’s were tired. Komori was vibrating just a little bit from the two coffees he drank earlier.
“You weren’t kidding about him needing a buffer, were you?”
“Nope.”
The team boarded their connection flight with moments to spare (naturally, Hinata and Suna took their sweet time getting back to the airport; Hinata claimed it was because he got lost, which was wholly believable, while Suna said he was toying with the idea of staying in Paris for a while, which was also believable). Thankfully, everyone got through their bag checks and made themselves comfortable in their new business class cabin without delay, this time all to themselves. The next hour or so spent getting to Italy was filled with eager anticipation, the team eventually crowding around the windows on either side to get their first looks at the country.
Italy was, in a word, beautiful. They landed in Rimini, a colourful, sprawling coastal city with a gorgeous shorefront and architecture that was just as inspired. It was nothing like anything Komori had ever seen in Japan. There were also a number of restaurants that were mouthwatering just to look at, but the hotel they would be staying at in Cervia would be serving them a welcome breakfast, so they couldn’t stop to eat just yet. They were just in time to catch the morning train to Cervia, another unique experience for Komori. He had only ever taken the subway to get where he needed to go in Japan apart from the occasional bus ride, so being on a real train for the first time was fun, especially as he got to watch the scenery fly past them.
The team chatted animatedly the whole way there, right up until they arrived at the entrance to the Sportur Club Hotel. It was…smaller than he expected, but he supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised by a three-star hotel. They all filed inside to check into their rooms, as eager to unpack and relax as they were to dive into the training camp. Unfortunately, there was just one problem…
They were one room short.
"Huh... Guess I forgot t'book a room fer ya," Atsumu confessed without sounding all that sorry about it. Osamu gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes.
"Are ya tellin' me ya dragged me all the way to another country without a place to stay? Did ya lose yer last brain cell in the empty milk carton ya left in the fridge yesterday or somethin'?!"
"Quit yellin' at me! I jus' said I forgot, okay?!"
"Both of you knock it off," Meian chided. "We'll just have him room with one of us. It's not a problem."
Komori didn't expect himself to volunteer, but he found the words leaving his mouth before he knew what he was saying, anyway.
“He can stay in my room,” he said, garnering their attention before he was ready for it. Clearing his throat, he continued. “I mean, some of us had to get singles anyway because of availability, so someone would end up having to share either way…”
“He’s got a point,” Iwaizumi said, shrugging toward Osamu. “You okay with that?”
“Fine by me,” Osamu said without pause, hiking up the handle of his suitcase and turning away from his brother. “Yer lucky yer team’s more competent than ya are, scrub.”
“OI! I was gonna offer t’let ya stay in my room, jackass!”
“Pass.”
“The offer ain’t on the table anymore anyway!”
“Then why’d ya say anythin’?”
“Screw you!”
The two continued squabbling as they made their way down the hall and up the stairs. Komori chuckled as he watched them go, but the sound was mainly just a noise to accompany the way he felt his soul kind of…slip out of his body. He really didn’t plan on getting between the twins during this trip, but there was no going back now. Komori let out a deep sigh, only to jump slightly when he turned to see Meian and Iwaizumi bowing their heads to him.
“Wh-what?”
“Thanks for diffusin’ that situation so quickly,” Meian said, lifting his head in time with Iwaizumi. “Knowin’ those two, it could’ve turned into a lot worse.”
“Yeah. Just sucks you gotta be in the middle of it. I’m praying for you, seriously,” Iwaizumi added, rubbing the back of his head as he glanced after where the twins had disappeared.
“O-oh, it’s nothing, really,” Komori assured, waving his hand. “Osamu and I got to know each other a little on the way here, so it shouldn’t be a problem. I’m sure they’ll both appreciate not having to bunk with each other while they’re here, anyway.”
“Right, I guess they do live together,” Meian noted, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. “Maybe it’ll be a vacation for Osamu after all.”
They laughed at that as they all parted ways to head up to their rooms. It was only once Komori arrived on the third floor that he realized he’d been holding the key to the room all along, so he rushed down the hallway to meet Osamu where he stood outside the door, slapping his hands together and bowing in apology.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting! I…kinda forgot to give you the key.”
“S’fine. I kinda walked off without askin’,” Osamu replied with an easy shrug.
Releasing his breath, Komori finally opened the door to their room, which was, again, smaller than anticipated. There was basically just enough space to move around, though there was a balcony attached, so that was nice. However, Komori pursed his lips as he considered the floor space. Neither of them could really roll out even a small futon without being in the way…
“Looks like we’re gonna be gettin’ cozy,” Osamu noted as if reading his thoughts, tucking his suitcase into the space underneath the recessed shelving in the wall by the bed. “Sorry in advance.”
“Oh, it-it’s fine! I don’t, uh, mind,” Komori said with a smile. I mean, I kinda mind… It’s not like I’m used to sharing a bed with another guy. …Or anyone, for that matter. “But, you know, if you want, you can always ask around to see if anyone has a bigger single room. So that it’s not so, um…cramped.”
“Nah. I checked out this hotel when ‘Tsumu invited me along,” Osamu said. “The only single bigger than this’s the suite, an’ that one was already booked, so I’m guessin’ it went to one o’ the other teams.”
“Oh… That sucks,” Komori muttered, keeping his head down as he started pulling out his hygiene supplies from his carry-on bag to put atop the dresser so he could get to his change of clothes underneath.
“...Sorry. I know I’m imposin’. If I knew this would happen, I wouldn’t’a come along.” Komori snapped his head back up to look at Osamu, wide-eyed.
“N-no, no! You’re not imposing at all! I’m sorry, I’m not trying to sound rude or anything. It’s just…a little awkward, you know? I mean, maybe not for you since you grew up with a twin, but—ahh, never mind! That still sounds rude…”
“Hey.” Osamu stopped him from rambling much further, offering a lop-sided smile from the other side of the bed. “I get it. Promise I won’t try to grope ya in yer sleep or nothin’.” He paused, considering. “That said, if I get a li’l mornin’ wood, it ain’t got nothin’ to do with ya.”
“Osamu!”
The Miya twin just laughed as he continued unpacking. Komori all but stuffed his face in his bag, cheeks aflame as he dug through its contents blindly.
You may have no problems making that promise, but me? Who knows…