Her lips look like Cherry Ice

The apartment feels smaller than it did before. You lived here for so long and you never noticed how crowded it was, filled to the brim with framed photos and posters and knick-knacks and your old college books and just stuff. It's everything you collected living with Atsumu, proof of your life together jammed together on bookshelves and hanging off the walls. 

You drag your fingers across a framed photo of you and Atsumu and dust sticks to your finger. There's a lump in your throat and you try not to cry because that's not what you came here to do, but it's useless. You cry. The you captured in a photograph smiles so you brightly your eyes are squeezed shut while Atsumu kisses your cheek, and you cry. 

It was too soon, you tell yourself as you sink to the ground, arms reaching around your knees. Your sobs get louder. It was too soon to come back.

You don't do what you came to do. You leave the apartment empty-handed, and find yourself standing in Onigiri Miya. 

It's empty and you figure it must be close to closing time, because you've never seen it without a line to order. And when Osamu emerges from the back, he's starting to say, "I'm so sorry, but we're closed and I just forgot to lock the - oh." 

He stops at the sight of you, drying his hands on rag he has thrown over his shoulder. Osamu looks at you like he doesn't know what to do with you and when you stare back at him you hold your breath, because it hurts to look at him and you don't want to cry again. You don't say anything. Osamu doesn't say anything. Time doesn't feel like it's passing. 

"Do you wanna talk?" Osamu asks eventually, and you don't trust your voice so you give him a hard nod. "Okay," he says with a nod of his own, "we can talk." 

You're standing in the back of his restaurant, where it's too hot for your comfort and the smell of grilled fish makes you realize how hungry you are. Your throat is tight and you cross your arms over your chest so you don't start to collapse. "Did you know?" you ask Osamu in a wavering voice that does not sound like your own. 

"No," Osamu answers, standing across from you and leaning against his work station. "I didn't know." 

You wanted it to comfort you, but it doesn't. Your teeth grind together. Maybe you wanted him to say yes, so you'd have someone to yell at. Though, you figure if you really wanted someone to scream at, you could answer one of the dozens of calls from Atsumu that come in daily. You don't know why you want to take it out on his brother. 

"It's not right, what Tsumu did to you," Osamu says. "He knows that. Everyone knows that." 

You look down at the ground and your vision starts to get blurry. You clench your hands into fist so hard that your nails leave crescent-shaped indents on your palm. "Did he say how long?" 

Osamu shifts. "Maybe you should talk to-" 

"I'm not going to talk to him," you say, firm and sure. You look up at Osamu and a tear falls down your cheek. "Please tell me how long." 

He swallows, and fidgets with the rag on his shoulder. "Since high school." 

It knocks the wind out of you. The realization suddenly hits you that you wasted years of your life being loyal and dedicated and stupid in love and it was all for nothing. That to Atsumu, it was nothing. You were nothing. You feel like you're going to be sick in the kitchen of Onigiri Miya. 

Osamu reaches out, and puts a hand on your shoulder. "Hey," he says, and his hand moves up to cradle the side of your face. You struggle to look at him. His thumb moves across your cheek. "It's over now, alright? You'll be okay." 

It's not over. You don't think it'll ever be over. You don't think that this weight in your chest will ever lessen and you don't think you can ever bring yourself to look at someone the way you looked at Atsumu ever again. It'll just be this, forever. This hurt and this confusion and no matter what anyone says to you, you will always feel like this. 

You look at Osamu and you do your best not to see Atsumu. Their eyes are different, so you look at them. You stare into Osamu's eyes like they're your lifeline and his thumb doesn't stop moving against the soft skin of your face, and you think, it doesn't have to be just you. It can be Atsumu, too. 

In a movement that's too swift for Osamu to process, you lean forward and throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. And it takes a second, but Osamu kisses you back. 

Your mouth moves against his desperately, hands pulling trying to pull him in closer and closer. He keeps one hand on your face and one on your waist and it takes you a second to realize it what you're doing. It's hard and ugly and your teeth bump together and you wonder if Osamu can taste the salt of your tears. His grip on your waist tightens. 

"Wait," Osamu says, but his lips still press into yours and he makes no move to stop. "Wait, wait," he says again, and this time he pulls himself away from you, using the hand on your face to keep you away. You stare up at him, teary-eyes and chest rising and falling with each breath. Osamu swallows. "Why are you doing this?" 

"Because I want to," you say, hands moving up the back of his neck to tangle in the ends of his hair. "Because I want you." 

Osamu looks at you for a long time. His eyes run up and down your face and his hand pushes back your hair. "Man," he says, eyes locked onto yours, "Tsumu really hurt you." 

You flinch, and pull back from Osamu, like his words burned you. Osamu lets you go and suddenly your face starts to feel hot. You want to say that it's not about Atsumu, but there's no point. You'd both know it was a lie. 

"Let's get you dinner," Osamu says. "I'll make you something. You're stating in Tokyo, right?" 

You nod. You don't trust your voice. 

"Well, stay at my place for the night. It's too late to take the train. I'll make sure you get home in the morning, okay?" 

"Okay," you say. And that's it. 

Osamu cooks you dinner and it's warm and flavorful and it makes you feel like you're a kid again. It makes you miss your mother. He finishes closing up the restaurant and you offer to help with the dishes or something, but Osamu refuses. He walks you back to his home and he holds your hand on the way there. It feels like the only thing that's holding you down to earth. You stay in his bed and he sleeps on the couch and you argue about it for a bit, but Osamu wins that debate. You don't talk much besides that. 

When the morning comes, Osamu wakes you gently and takes you to the train station like he said he would. He rubs your back when he hugs you goodbye. You kiss his cheek and he promises he'll visit. 

It is your last night in Osaka.