Osamu Angst - Blog Posts

so osamu x reader angst au where osamu is deeply in love with the reader and decided to dye his hair blonde so reader can cope with tsumu's death but didn't like this idea anymore, he wanted her to love him for who he truly is,,, 👉👈

Lapse in Judgement (Osamu x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: A car crash has taken Osamu’s brother away, the boy you liked so dearly. Osamu was dull to the pain, his crush on you blinding him from reality. But when he dyes his hair in hopes that he could make you feel the same, he realizes he may have gone too far. 

A/N: Sorry it took me a while. As per request, we got some major angst, but I gotta be honest, I don’t think Osamu’s evil enough to focus on a girl rather than his brother, so I focused more on his desperation to replace what he had lost than anything else. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1412

        Maybe it was a mistake. A screw up of the royal kind. 

        But at most, it was a lapse in judgement. 

        High school boy found dead in a car accident. That’s what the newspapers said, but it didn’t account for the total grief of it all. 

        Boy, dead. Drunk driver, critical condition. The navy blue truck totalled the small SUV at eight o’ clock at night after running a red light. Witnesses called for help, and that was it. 

        Except it wasn’t. 

        The journalists didn’t talk about the empty bedroom across from Osamu’s. They didn’t talk about the abandoned desk in Class 4b, the bare seat at the lunch table, the still-full locker in the hallway. 

        Atsumu was gone, with only an indifferent news article to his name. 

        Practice was never quite the same. Each time Osamu went, he couldn’t help but stare at the floor where his brother once stood. Deep down, he knew he should have cried by now. Bawled tears at the funeral, or maybe let one slip when he saw the first layer of dust settle onto his brother’s dresser. 

        But the truth was that he hadn’t. Yeah, it hurt, but he couldn’t… feel it. Every sense in his body was numb as he got through each passing day like turning the pages of a book without reading them. Things were happening, he just didn’t care enough to listen. 

        Osamu guessed the one who was visibly taking it the hardest was you, who won by a landslide. 

        The night he died, you had texted the quieter twin with wide-eyed innocence, revealing that the next day at school, you were going to give Atsumu a letter telling him how you feel. 

        I can do it! Just watch me, Samu!

        The chance never came, and when Osamu informed you of what had happened, you had broken down in his arms. 

        And he felt sick for the first time. 

        Disgust at himself for actually being happy that he was the one to hold you now, it was horrifying. The bile that had risen up his throat lost out to the joy. 

        Him, Osamu, he was the one you talked to now, each day asking him if he was okay, hugging him and confiding in him with your deepest thoughts. 

        You and Atsumu had been close in a way Osamu had always been envious of. Teasing and flirting, all of it turned him into a green-eyed monster.

        So maybe that was what forced away his ache of loss. Around him, you were almost as happy, almost as teasing and playful, but you had lost that glint in your eyes. You didn’t have that with Osamu.

        He knew that was what had sent him over the edge. 

        Two weeks after his brother’s death, still not a tear spilt. Instead, he spent all his time thinking about you. Your smile, less forced than before. The shine in your hair had returned, and your cheeks finally began to flush again. 

        Osamu entered the school and made a beeline for the classroom, praying that you had attended school today so he could see you. So you could validate what he had done. 

        And there you were, slipping into the classroom with the same dark circles under your eyes. They were no longer only from long nights of doing schoolwork. 

        “YN.” 

        Your head snapped up and your eyes met his in a split second. Then your gaze rose to his hair. Your lips separated to let out a single, quick breath of air while your brow twitched. 

        “At- Osamu?” 

        He nodded, the newly-blond hair shifting to hang in front of his eyes.

        “Your… you changed your hair.” 

        “Yeah, I did.”

        And that was that.

                                ~~~

        Having you by his side, Osamu could ignore all the stares he received. He never cared for attention, especially not now. Throughout the halls of school, people’s brows rose to their hairlines as they watched you both walk around, hand in hand and smile together. 

        It never seemed weird, and Osamu had never felt happier. 

        He wasn’t… he wasn’t alone anymore. 

        The bedroom across from his never bothered him when you stayed over at night. He hadn’t even travelled into it since the last time. 

        “Do you want to come over tonight?” Osamu didn’t really say it as a question, mostly because you were guaranteed to say yes anyways. 

        “Again? I think someone likes having me around.” 

        He did. God, he loved that adoring look on your face whenever he said he wanted you. Those puppy dog eyes of yours that you never seemed to notice you were giving him made his heart thump in a frantic pattern. 

        Volleyball wasn’t really a concern anymore. The new setter pissed him off, so he didn’t bother attending practice. His jerseys hung in his closet, unworn for what might’ve been a month now. 

        It was maybe… two months? Three? Osamu wasn’t sure, but Atsumu had left a while ago. 

        So he never bothered with the sport, meaning you could come over right after school, or he could even walk with you there. 

        You both had a tradition now. Homework, then a movie or show, then a nap together. Then Osamu either walked you home or, if it was too late, let you sleep in his bed for the night. 

        He found that your warmth fended off the nightmares that leered in on him at all hours in a day. 

        Today was a day that you stayed the night. The moon was already falling from the sky by the time you two finished eating a dinner of box mac and cheese, and thus it was decided that you shouldn’t bother going home. 

        Osamu’s blond head rested on your chest, and one leg was intertwined with both of your own. His arm was strewn across your stomach, heavy enough to keep you in place for the night. 

        You had two hands in his hair, head propped up on a pillow so you could make out the shape of the tufts in the black room. It was three am, and Osamu’s breathing had finally slowed and leveled.

        “Atsumu,” you whispered, your own voice not even loud enough to hit your own ears. “Fuck, I miss you so much.” 

        Osamu shifted and your hands stilled, breath held in anticipation. Then he stopped and nuzzled his face back into your chest. 

        After waiting a couple more minutes just in case, you let out a sigh and combed through the long tufts again. “I’ll never stop loving you, Atsumu. I wish I could’ve told you that three months ago.” 

        Your eyelids grew heavy with sleep and you let out a yawn. 

        “I love you, Atsumu.” 

        And then you slipped into unconsciousness. 

        Atsumu was gone forever. 

        His bedroom was still empty, and a few spiders had probably claimed the corners of the room by now. Dust must have caked over every single picture and piece of furniture the boy had ever owned. 

        His bed was probably unmade, and would never be made again. 

        He was dead, and nobody could fill the holes his absence had left. 

        You couldn’t fix Osamu’s loneliness, no matter how much you latched onto him. 

        Osamu couldn’t replace his brother for you. He wasn’t really the boy you would love, no matter how hard he tried to be. Your words had confirmed that.

        Dying his hair was a lapse of judgement. A last ditch effort for both of you to keep his memory alive. 

        But that effort was futile. 

        And so, for the first time since he had lost his setter in volleyball, his friend in school, his rival in love, and his twin for life, Osamu let reality sink in. 

        Against your chest, in the hold of the woman he loved unrequitedly, Osamu cried.

They say that it gets better but I guess that was a lie

I guess we all just fake it 'til we die

[13:25] miya osamu sobbing bcs @ufo-ikawa made me listen to free love by honne & i automatically thought of samu

“tsum’s always third-wheeling us, but where is he when we need him?” you huff, using the collar of osamu’s worn t-shirt to wipe away the sweat on your forehead. “this would go a lot faster if he were here.”

it’s the middle of summer, it’s way too hot, and the air conditioning in osamu’s newly purchased storefront is still broken. yet here the both of you are anyway, painting walls in the muggy afternoon heat of downtown osaka.

osamu makes a sound of agreement just as his phone buzzes in his pocket, wiping his hand on his paint-streaked shirt before grabbing it and glancing down at the screen. “oh, this is the scrub now saying…he’s at some resort in tokyo with his girl.”

“wait, the one he met last month?” you ask, dropping the paint roller into its tray when he hands you the phone, a selfie of his brother lounging on a pool chair on the screen. “wow, a month into the relationship and he’s already whisking her off to a resort? lucky girl.”

osamu’s got an odd look on his face as you hand the phone back. “he, uh, said he’d be back on tuesday to help us move the furniture in, though.”

“that’s good,” you shrug, picking up your roller and resuming your neat strokes of light grey paint. “i already know he’s gonna be eating here all the time, so we need to make sure he pulls his weight before opening.”

he hums in acknowledgement, resuming his painting beside you. when you look over, he’s got a comtemplative look on his face, brows pulled down and mouth pressed into a tight line.

“let’s take a water break,” you propose when you can tell he’s pulled a little too far into his head by…by something. in the five years you’ve dated him, you know that osamu’s like this. sometimes his thoughts are a little too loud, and whatever they are right now are screaming at him, drowning out reason.

he hears you, though, dropping his roller into the tray before taking a seat in the middle of the tarp-covered floor (flooring the both of you had installed yourselves with the help of a youtube tutorial). you reach into the cooler, grabbing two bottles of water before lowering yourself to the ground next to him, handing him a bottle of water before uncapping your own.

“i’d understand, you know,” he murmurs quietly once you’re settled.

you watch him out of the corner of your eye, noting the way his restless hands pick at the label on the bottle. he’s nervous. “understand what?

he’s not looking at you, staring straight ahead. “if ya wanted to leave.”

you chuckle, taking a gulp before screwing the cap back on, pressing the cool bottle to your cheek. “i’m not gonna leave before we’re done painting the edges. i’ll stay all night if i have to.”

“not the walls,” he says a little stiffly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i meant— i meant me. if ya wanted to leave me, i would…i would understand.”

you blink a few times, wondering if the heat was making you hallucinate or something. “osamu, why would i do that?”

“it’s just, you deserve more than— than this,” he gestured around at his half-assembled store. “i don’t have much. you know i poured a good chunk of my savings into leasing this place. i can’t take you to nice dinners on our anniversary or buy you pretty things, and now i’ve got you doin’ manual labour on your day off. you deserve better.”

“better?” you repeat, wondering if he’s hallucinating.

osamu shrugs, then lets his steady shoulders slump. “you…you deserve someone who can take you to tokyo.”

“but i don’t want to go to tokyo. it’s too—”

“crowded, i know,” he finishes, hesitantly meeting your gaze. “but you know what i mean.”

“no, i don’t,” you say firmly. “because you’re not making any sense right now. should i call an ambulance? is this heat stroke?”

he says your name exasperatedly. “i’m serious. you’ve got no obligation—”

“do you love me?” you interrupt.

“of course i do,” he answers without hesitation, and you can hear it, the desperate edge in his voice, the little part of him that says he doesn’t want to let you go.

satisfied, you uncap your water and take another drink. “then that’s that.”

he frowns a little. “but—”

you raise your brows at him. “unless you want me to date your brother?”

“what? no.”

“exactly.” you shuffle over to cup his face in your palms, the tip of your nose brushing his as he leans into your touch and you murmur, “i don’t need anything or anyone else.”

no one but osamu, who can’t take you to nice dinners but spent hours in the kitchen cooking up your favourite dishes on your anniversary last month. who seasoned everything to your liking and somehow made it compliment the cheapest bottle of wine you could find.

osamu, who can’t buy you nice things, but shows you everyday, in his own way, just how much he appreciates and loves you. who packs you a lunch every night and walks you to the train station each morning. who always lets you have the last slice or bite of anything, and holds your opinion on new dishes in the highest regard.

osamu, who is willing to let you go because he thinks you deserve better. you don’t doubt he’ll give it all to you someday, when he can. but for now?

for now you’ll kiss his sweaty forehead in his half-built onigiri shop, the both of you streaked with paint and melting in the summer heat. but none of it matters because, well,

“all i need is you.”

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐋

pairing. miya osamu x gn!reader

content warnings. 3.9k wc, fluff, secrecy, misunderstandings

summary. after accidentally finding out about your boyfriend’s plans to propose to you, you anxiously await the moment.

that’s probably why he wants to propose. that’s probably why he wants to propose. that’s probably why—

the words had been playing on repeat in your head ever since they slipped past atsumu’s lips. you could tell he was apologetic for not only the mistake he made in revealing his brother’s business but also for keying you in on something you weren’t meant to be aware of. despite his profuse and plentiful “sorry”s, it had been impossible for you to not think about osamu’s impending proposal.

even less so now that you were standing outside his restaurant.

the last time you’d been relatively nervous at or near onigiri miya was when you were stationed on the bench and waiting for him to close up for your first date. time passed by excruciatingly slow as you peeked over your shoulder every couple minutes to gauge whether or not he would be out any time soon. you’d been inside the establishment only a few hours earlier with some friends who wouldn’t shut up about how cute the guy with the black cap was. you couldn’t blame them; you thought the same thing. which is why you were so surprised when what you thought was harmless flirting with the entire table led to him pulling you aside and asking you to hang out that night. it was an impulsive decision for you to say yes, but you didn’t regret it in the slightest. the happiest two years of your life came as a result of your spontaneity. the nostalgia of that moment was hitting you at full force as you stood tentatively at the entrance of the restaurant, patrons entering with excitement and exiting with content smiles. the kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering around in your belly felt the exact same as they did that first night you spent with him.

you couldn’t loiter around forever, though, as you only had so much time before your coworkers were expecting you back with lunch. with a stabilizing sigh, you pushed the door open, the bell above it ringing to announce the arrival of another.

part of you was expecting osamu to welcome you at the door, after all, it wasn’t rare for him to be running the host podium. though, instead of being greeted by a familiar face, a girl sporting a black apron was seating the growing line of visitors. you never knew where you could find your boyfriend at any given moment—he hopped between helping out in the kitchen, handling business in his office, and even waiting tables; which is what he seemed to be busy with today. you always thought he preferred spending his hours in the back working with the food, but he was surprisingly adept at socializing with customers. that much was evident by the easy smile playing at his lips while he conversed with a group of older women just to the left of where you were currently positioned.

you were close enough to pick up on most of the exchange. he was dropping off the bill and collecting plates as they doted on him—going back and forth about how helpful and kind he had been while servicing them. a smile of your own stretched across your lips as you listened to their overt praise of your boyfriend. you told him how amazing he was all the time, but he deserved to hear it from other people, too.

“a handsome gentleman like you oughta be married by now.” one of the women pointed at his ringless finger as he reached for her empty cup.

your ears perked up at the lady’s words. to them, it must have been hard to believe that a successful business owner with a personality likeable to all wasn’t settled down already. you waited in anticipation for his reply.

“yeah.” he breathily laughed—not with ease; more bashful than anything. “i’m working on that.”

you could pick up the distant laughter from the women that sounded farther away than it truly was. you never doubted it when atsumu told you, but hearing it from osamu himself made it so much more real. too focused on your thoughts, you didn’t feel the presence of someone beside you.

“hey.” you almost jumped at the sudden voice but the familiar feel of arms wrapping around you and soft lips pressing to your cheek stopped you. he must have finished up his chat while you were lost in your thoughts. 

“hi.” you smiled, hoping it didn’t appear too strained. there hadn’t been a time where it had felt awkward to be around osamu but you were beginning to think that now might mark the first. as much as you wanted to remain your normal and composed self, the task was proving to be difficult.

“lunch run?” he asked, pulling away from you but keeping one arm wrapped around your waist.

“mhm,” you hummed.

he told you that he’d grab your order so you wouldn’t have to wait any longer in the line. you chewed at your lip as you gazed nowhere in particular in an attempt to think about anything but the proposal you should have been oblivious to. osamu was back in no time, placing the to-go bag in your hand and sending you off with another kiss.

the bell rang again as you departed from the restaurant. as if your mind wasn’t already in the gutter, you had something new to dwell on for the rest of the day.

დ  დ  დ

the aroma of breakfast cooking typically roused you from your slumber on saturday mornings, but rather than awaking to the scent of a freshly cooked meal, the hum of the television from the next room worked as your alarm. wiping any lingering sleep from your eyes and tossing the comforter aside, you stood up and padded down the hall to see what osamu was up to. through slightly bleary vision you were able to catch sight of him sitting on the floor in front of the couch, his eyes trading off between looking at the flat screen and the screen of his laptop. it wasn’t often that he handled work matters outside his office and during occasions when he did bring business home, he’d usually hunker down in the guest room that served as a workroom so he wouldn’t get distracted.

“good morning,” you called from behind the couch. you leaned over the back and squinted your eyes to get a closer look at his laptop. “whatcha looking at?”

tilting his head back, osamu flashed you a bright smile. his hair was messy and unbrushed and your hands were itching to neaten the brunette strands. he patted the space on the floor beside him. “come see.”

you rounded the cushioned furniture and plopped down next to osamu. you wriggled a bit before you were comfortably pressed against his side. the volume of the tv that was playing some competitive cooking show filled the otherwise silent room. with a satisfied sigh, you finally looked at the tab pulled up on osamu’s computer.

“houses?” you cleared your throat but it was too late to take back the crack that had broken it.

a hand ran lazily up and down your side as osamu nodded.

“how come? i thought you liked your apartment.” you crossed your arms and chewed at the inside of your cheek. you spent more time at his place than your own and osamu often called his apartment yours—the two of you were practically living together. and you loved it, being able to wake up beside him and welcome him home after a long day, but the thought of buying a house made you shiver. the nagging at the back of your mind that you had been trying so hard to ignore was resurfacing.

“i do,” he agreed easily. “but don’t you want to find a place to call a home of our own?”

“well, yeah…” at the beginning of your relationship, you could only have dreamed of this moment; house hunting with osamu. the thought made you giddy; picturing how beautiful your yard would look lined with colorful flowers, thinking about all the meals you and osamu could make in a spacious kitchen, imagining what the rooms would look like filled with photos and belongings of your own—envisioning a happy life with him. now that you were getting a taste of the experience, you couldn’t help but think about his plans to propose. if he was already searching the market for houses, it must have meant that you were quickly approaching his proposal. there was no time to enjoy what was right in front of you when you were too preoccupied thinking about osamu popping the question.

“hey.” he smoothed a hand over your hair and smooshed your cheeks together with his other. osamu hated seeing your eyebrows knit together in a frown. he couldn’t be sure as to why you looked so troubled, but he did know that he’d do anything to get your mind off of whatever was bothering you—even if that was the window displaying images of houses for sale. his lips met your puckered ones in a quick kiss before he continued. “no need to get the jitters just yet. we’re just scouting, nothing serious.”

it was clear that he caught onto your discomfort and his words were an attempt at ridding you of it. just because you were feeling awkward didn’t mean you had to put a damper on osamu’s hopeful mood. and he was right; it would take a lot more than a couple hours on a saturday morning to find a house that the both of you were happy with. there was no harm in just looking. you nodded with a grin, “nothing serious.”

“but,” he drew out the vowel, “i have been waiting for you to get up so i could hear your thoughts about this kitchen.” he clicked over to the picture showing off the kitchen of the listed house. “what do you think? pretty amazing, right?”

you couldn’t let your nerves ruin what was supposed to be an exciting milestone for you and your boyfriend. and how could you deny the man with sparkles of anticipation in his eyes? 

“if you like it, i love it.”

დ  დ  დ 

spacing out is your new normal. it happens much more often than it ever did before a couple weeks ago. you’ll be at work, typing away on your keyboard, and your mind will drift. the next time you look at the document you’re working on, it’s filled with your written thoughts about being a spouse rather than the report you were meant to be filling out. you’d stare at your hands while loading the washing machine with dirty laundry, imaging what your ring finger would look like adorned with a metal band. it was only when you went to transfer the wet clothes to the dryer that you realized you accidentally mixed in colors with the whites. the growing mishaps had you wishing you were still gleefully unaware or led you to internally rushing osamu to hurry up and bend down on one knee. though, you don’t blame osamu for your wandering mind—how could you? it wasn’t his fault that his brother blabbed.

your life would be a lot easier if atsumu had a filter and kept his mouth shut. you had let him off the hook because his apology seemed sincere, but the moment that ring was resting easily on your fourth finger, he’d be getting a mouthful of choice words for causing you so much unnecessary stress.

even now, on what was meant to be a relaxing walk with osamu, you were too distracted to enjoy the cool breeze gently blowing against your face and the company of your boyfriend. the warmth of osamu’s hand enveloping yours was the only thing anchoring you to your environment, which is why you gasped when he tugged your arm to keep you from walking any further. you stumbled back on your feet, glancing over to osamu to see why he stopped you so abruptly. you weren’t able to ask before he started kneeling down.

it was as if time froze.

oh god, is he doing it here? now? in the middle of the sidewalk? of all the scenarios you had run through during restless nights, you had come to the conclusion that a public proposal was the least likely; osamu was an intimate man and you figured he wouldn’t want to make a scene. but more than that, he’d want the event to be exclusive to the two of you—no spectators or wandering eyes, something private; a memory that belonged to you and you only. the shock of not only his proposal but the execution left you reeling. heart thumping wildly in your chest, you willed your eyes to look down to your feet. your breath caught in your throat upon seeing that he was only tying his shoe. you didn’t know whether to breathe out a sigh of relief or scream in frustration at that fact you’d be waiting for who knew how long for the real thing to happen. again.

“you good?” osamu questioned with a frown as he slowly returned to a standing position. he’d been catching you with a crease between your eyebrows recently and despite your consistent reassurance that you were fine, the expression seemed to always find its way back to your face. he never wanted to be the overbearing boyfriend that crossed your boundaries by constantly hovering over your shoulder and badgering you to tell him how you actually felt. he trusted that if something was bothering you, you’d tell him when you were ready.

you had no intention of coming straight out and telling him that you were expecting him to give a sappy speech and pull out a velvet box. the entire reason you had been suffering silently was because you didn’t want him to know that you knew. you wrapped your hands around his arm and peered up at him with a tight-lipped smile. “yeah, sorry. i was just in my head when you stopped me, that’s all.”

he stared down at you and you could practically see the doubt swimming in his eyes. there was no way you could keep up this act without him getting even a little suspicious—your behavior was clearly stirring up some wariness on his end. you ignored the biting feeling that was telling you that osamu was onto you, meeting his gaze happily.

“okay,” he finally spoke up with a short nod.

“okay, let’s go.” you rested your head on his shoulder and squeezed his bicep in a gesture to keep moving. he obliged, the two of you naturally falling into step with each other and continuing your stroll through town. you pointed out a shop that caught your eye, one with mannequins set up in the window wearing some cute outfits. the weather getting warmer was a perfect excuse for you to stop by the boutique and shop around. maybe browsing and asking osamu what he thought about the clothes would be enough to get your head out of the clouds.

დ  დ  დ

“this place is really nice,” you commented, head turning to take in your surroundings as you sat down in the chair osamu pulled out for you. the most eye-catching characteristic of the establishment was the extravagant chandelier hanging from the center of the room. the crystal pendants glimmered when the lights hit them at just the right angle, highlighting the intricately carved art on the walls. individual candles were lit at the center of each table. you couldn’t put your finger on the scent, but you imagined it smelled amazing. even the silverware set out looked expensive. “are we celebrating something?”

you were caught off guard when osamu walked through the door earlier than usual, telling you to change out of your comfy clothes into something nice. it took a full-blown interrogation under the ruse of needing to know the dress code for osamu to come clean and admit that he was taking you out to dinner. it struck you as strange, though. your boyfriend was a chef at heart and loved trying out new recipes in the kitchen, excitedly standing by while you taste the dish and give him feedback. but on days when he was burned out from all the cooking at work, he’d ask you if you were fine with him ordering takeout. even on the days when didn’t want to cook but wanted to get out of the apartment, the two of you usually ventured to a familiar local spot, never anywhere that warranted more than jeans and a sweatshirt. him taking you to a restaurant so opulent must have meant it was a special occasion, right?

tonight had to be the night.

“no,” he took his seat across from you, laying the provided napkin on his lap before running a cautious hand over his hair. it was an unusual sight to see his hair slicked back, but some of the dark pieces strayed from the rest, swooping over his forehead and framing his face. he always looked handsome in your eyes but under the lights illuminating the room, he looked even more attractive. “i just wanted to treat you to a nice night.”

“that’s sweet.” you reached across the table to take his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze and offering him a soft smile. what exactly did a “nice night” entail? dinner, dessert, and a diamond ring? you hoped he didn’t notice the tremors running through your fingers.

he returned your smile with one of his own, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. the two of you shared light conversation until the waiter arrived to take your orders and collect your menus. as smoothly as things were going, you couldn’t help but think that as time went on, you’d get closer and closer to that moment you’ve spent weeks waiting for.

“is something wrong?” osamu asked.

“nope.” you shook your head. “why would something be wrong?”

“your leg keeps bouncing under the table.”

“oh, sorry, i didn’t even notice.” you pulled your hand back and rested your palms on your thighs to stop them from moving.

“look, babe.” osamu ran his hand down his face and sighed. you must have thought he didn’t notice that you were beginning to frown more, that you were sleeping at his apartment less, that you pulled away when he brought up the future—but he did, he did notice and he couldn’t let it go. “you’ve been acting different lately and i told myself i wouldn’t pry but it’s really starting to worry me. i just… was it something i did?”

“no! no, of course not.” you waved your hands back and forth frantically as if they’d physically disperse his word throughout the air—rid that ridiculous thought from his head. you wanted to grab him by the face and scream at him about how wrong he was, but you kept your hands folded in your lap, thumbs unconsciously twiddling.

“the truth is…” you chewed your lip thoughtfully, thinking of whether or not it was a good idea to finally tell him. you had good reason for keeping it from osamu, but now that you saw it was doing more harm than good, that he was blaming himself for you being distant, you recognized that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to keep him in the dark. you had to tell him—this whole debacle had gone on for far too long and it was affecting someone other than yourself. you took a deep breath before continuing. “when i went out with atsumu a couple weeks ago, we were just talking when he told me something he shouldn’t have. he said you were going to propose to me.”

osamu’s lips parted in surprise. it never crossed his mind, the possibility that you were aware, but now that he thought about it, everything made sense. well, mostly everything. you had answered his question, but it raised another, one that was more difficult to ask. “so have you been acting strange because you knew, or because you don’t want to get married?”

you knew it wasn’t his intention, but your heart broke a little at the fact that he even considered your rejection to be a liable prospect. and it cracked a little more knowing that your secrecy is what likely instilled that notion in his head. “it’s not that. i was just on edge because i didn’t know when it was going to happen—i was expecting it and every little thing set me off.”

he nodded slowly as he processed everything.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you earlier.” your voice was quiet and osamu could just barely hear it over the commotion of the dining area. “i didn’t know what to do when your brother told me and, i don’t know, i thought acting like i was clueless would be best. i didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” he placed his hands palms-up on the table and waited for you to set yours on top of his. you lifted them off your legs and gave them to osamu. he raised them to his mouth, kissing the back of each before meeting your gaze once more. “i’m not mad, i swear i’m not. you did what you thought was right. don’t beat yourself up about it.”

despite his understanding, part of you still felt as if the whole ordeal was avoidable. but if osamu wasn’t upset with you, there was no point in being upset with yourself. he wouldn’t want you fretting over it and you wanted nothing more than for things to return to normal. you smiled and huffed out a laugh. “i guess i ended up doing exactly what i was trying not to. did you have a backup plan in case i found out before you got the job done?”

“mmm, can’t say i thought about that. but i suppose i could just do it now. i don’t have the ring on me but there’s no reason to wait since—”

“are you serious?” you stared at him in disbelief. you’d spent the last several days walking on eggshells as though osamu would propose at any given moment, telling yourself that it could happen when you least expected it. still, none of those previous actions lessened the shock of osamu’s nonchalantly spoken words.

“completely.” he traced a line over your finger; the one that he ideally would have been sliding a ring on. it was far from how he imagined the scene would play out, but even without the defining qualities of the average proposal—the dropping down on one knee, the long heartfelt speech about how his life changed when you walked into it, the dazzling ring—everything about here and now felt right to osamu. “marry me?”

tears pooled in your eyes, threatening to spill over your lashline. you’d thought you had enough time to prepare for this—experienced enough scares to steel yourself from crying, but if this stretch of time had taught you anything, it was to expect the unexpected. the vision of osamu in front of you was slowly blurring with each passing second. you blinked, allowing the tears to flow down your cheeks and drip down your chin. you wanted to be able to see his face clearly when you gave him your answer. fervently nodding, you responded, “yes.”