Im Discombobulating - Tumblr Posts

My entry for @augustinewrites’s Simple Pleasures collab! Chaos corner, this one’s for you 💝

Miya Osamu knows better than most that life is volatile and sometimes unkind - and more than often inopportune. He knows because he grew up with the embodiment of life, wearing a face that looked exactly like his.

At 7pm, standing in the doorway of your shared room, he can’t help but wonder when he met the other side of life; the side that was more like himself than Atsumu. Because life wasn’t always about crashing head-first into the worst decisions. Sometimes it was this:

Sometimes it was watching you cuddle your baby while he does the dishes and prepares the milk bottle. Sometimes it’s the quiet into which you speak promises to the Mini Miya you’ve created. Sometimes, it was complete wonder and awe at your messy ponytail and three-day-old T-shirt - and how it’s still one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his twenty-odd years of life.

Sometimes it was reveling in the fact that you existed.

You’ve saved his life more than once, he thinks. When no one else believed in Onigiri Miya, you did. When everyone else asked after Atsumu and never Osamu, you were the one whose lips always held his name.

Osamu. A name he used to resent. It was too often followed by “and Atsumu,” reminding him that he always coexisted with another half. Now, he doesn’t mind. It’s followed by “my dear,” “my love,” and the like.

Sometimes, life was laying next to you, waiting until the baby was burped and fed. Life was his baby on his chest, napping or curling her tiny, tiny fingers around his own. Life was you, pressed into his side, stroking the baby’s back and telling him your life story with a baby voice to entertain both members of your tiny family.

He doesn’t know how or when he got here. He doesn’t know what accident of the universe granted him this blessing - not that he’s complaining.

“Samu?”

He hums, glancing downward to see if Mini Miya was asleep yet.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” It can’t be the dishes. He does those all the time.

“For staying.”

Two words, but he knows what they mean to you. A lot. Because you didn’t trust easily, and too many people had given up before you were ready to hand them your heart. But not Miya Osamu. Miya Osamu was thankful to have you in his life in any capacity. He didn’t care how long you made him wait, because waiting was half the fun.

It was existence with you, either way, and that’s all he’s ever wanted. That’s all he ever hopes to do for the rest of his life.

“You can’t get rid of me,” he murmurs. “Ever.”