Chapter Text
Osamu finishes parting his hair to the left with an over-exaggerated flick of his wrist - Atsumu may be the dramatic one, but Osamu takes the prize for eccentricity.
"Well, not quite as handsome as me, but ya know what? It'll do," he examines Atsumu who now looks like a reflection of himself - they've always been carbon copies of each other, but Atsumu feels this is taking it to another level. Turns out, erasing the minute differences between them isn't half as easy as they'd expected it to be.
"Are ya serious? I'm doin' this fer you ya know, ya could at least do me the courtesy of shuttin' yer trap fer two seconds," Asumu complains because he feels like complaining - this is what he gets for being a good brother. Who wouldn't want to complain when you're being forced into a stuffy suit for a stuffy wedding. God, he's wearing makeup? He's never worn makeup in his life before.
"I know," that's their apology, acknowledgment. The Miya's are a stubborn family, as rooted to their ideals as they are affectionate. This is the best he's going to get from his brother.
A minute goes by, Osamu fiddles with Atsumu's hair as if it were his own, and Atsumu reviews for the nth time today why he agreed to do this and why the fuck he's not backing out yet. He should back out of this batshit crazy plan - they'll get arrested for treason, they'll get put in jail (can you get a death sentence for this? Atsumu can only wonder).
Osamu comes to stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder. They're, for the very first time in their life since they were born, absolutely identical. Not a hair out of place gives away one from the other, the only marks that could differentiate them cleverly hidden under the sleeves of trim suits.
Their eyes are of slightly different hues, but it's so unnoticeable that only someone trained in the art of detecting lies would spot this one, so obvious it's almost ingenious. Looking at them like this, Atsumu feels brotherly affection pool in his chest - is this going to be the last thing he sees before the uprooting of his life blooms to fruition?
He knows, rationally, that it's not like he'll never see Osamu again, but there's something about the prospect of leaving that makes an ache sting sharply in his chest. Something about the idea of being a world apart from his twin that makes him feel like he's stepping off the edge of a cliff into nothing but sheer darkness.
God, they literally slept in the same room until they were in high school, and even after that they mutually insisted on having rooms joined by a wall so they could communicate in morse code far past their bedtime and mask it among the sounds of the palace - the transition had been an arduous one that Atsumu still remembers as one of the most difficult of his life. Trying to fall asleep without Osamu's steady breaths in the bunk above him was damn near impossible.
He wonders what it'll be like to be in another fucking country.
"I love ya, y'know," Atsumu speaks to their reflections in the mirror, and he can see something that runs the line of guilt flicker in his brother's eyes. Osamu doesn't respond, merely stares sadly at their mirror images - one might almost say they're the real-life versions of the copy and paste function on a laptop.
When Osamu says nothing for a drawn-out moment, Atsumu senses the need for further prompting fast approaching.
"Ya gotta say it back," Osamu shakes his head stubbornly, but Atsumu can see the beginnings of tears in gunmetal eyes. One thing that's always stayed constant among the twins is that, when one twin cries, the other inevitably does too (usually within the first ten minutes). "C'mon now 'Samu. Ya can't cry. Y'know I'll cry too an' I got makeup ta take care of. Now seriously, ya gotta say it back."
"I love ya too," he says finally, and Atsumu doesn't suppress a smile at that - they look quite different now, one reflection painted with somber joy, the other almost heartbreakingly sad.
"Yeah, I know ya do," he tells himself he's not going to cry, and he means it because hell if he's going to sit in a dressing room for another four fucking hours while a team of highly trained makeup artists design a look that "specifically screams 'natural'."
So he doesn't cry, because he's not going to drag Osamu down with him - the captain of a sinking boat doesn't grab his second in command and hang on for dear life. He goes down with his ship, convictions readily intact. And that's exactly what Atsumu's going to do.
"Alright," he decides after a moment of both of them being on the brink of tears. "Let's marry this son of a bitch."
---
"I have exciting news, boys," their mother's definition of exciting is almost always boring (on rare occasions it's even bad) but they entertain her because she has a smile worth billions.
The queen tottles over to her sons, delicate hands clutched in front of her, a clear sign that she's proud of them - they haven't even done anything (or if they have, neither are aware of what it might be), so neither can fathom why she's wearing the same expression she did when they'd made their school's volleyball team or won nationals.
(Their father wanted them to have a classical homeschool education, but both boys had insisted that it was 'too stuffy' and 'way pretentious'.)
Atsumu straightens up accordingly, Osamu pauses Godzilla - at quite an inconvenient moment too, there's blood everywhere, certainly not a sight befitting of a queen. But Queen Miori is excited enough that she doesn't even spare a glance at the TV.
"Yeah ma?" Atsumu tenses in preparation to run depending on how bad this "exciting" news is. (One time he all out sprinted when his mother had presented them with a pair of boxer briefs and happily announced "photoshoot!" - look, Atsumu's all for flaunting his, admittedly, godlike body, but there are some lines to don't cross, like taking basically naked pictures with your twin brother.)
"So, the prince of a kingdom quite close to us is about to be coronated. He's of marrying age and," she smiles at them expectantly. Atsumu shakes his head, not understanding, Osamu scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. Her grin is so priceless, Atsumu doesn't have the nerve to tell her that she's not making any sense, he assumes Osamu feels the same, so they keep their mouths shut. "And the king and queen want him to marry one of ya!"
Like a deer in headlights, Atsumu can't even run - not that he wouldn't enjoy the idea of sprinting at max speed far far away from what is about to become a very complicated conversation.
"Um..."
"Uh..." Osamu's supposed to be the articulate one between the two of them, but both twins have the bad tendency to get super fucking stupid in the face of emotional adversity. They stare dumbfounded at their mother who still retains her bright smile as if she didn't just tell them she wants to sell them to another fucking kingdom - actually no, it was worse. She wants to sell one of them to another fucking kingdom.
Atsumu likes to think he got pretty lucky when drawing lots in life. He lives in a palace with literally everything he could ever want right at his fingertips, his parents are loving and accommodating of him, no one gives a flying fuck the not one, but two twins turned out to be dead gay (well, Atsumu's bi, but whatever), he's super attractive and, let's be honest, he's got mad charm.
But right now, he feels anything but lucky. He feels like someone snatched the rug out from under him resulting in him falling down through an endless black hole. There's no coming back from this. This is permanent. Marriage is permanent and only one of them will be getting married which means...
Atsumu and Osamu are like shelter dogs: they're not meant to be apart. Atsumu and Osamu are not like shelter dogs in that they're not going to learn to love their new homes. Atsumu most of all. Osamu can manage to put on a brave face and keep his manners intact when he feels like his world is falling apart at the seams, but Atsumu cracks with it, unraveling like a loose ball of yarn until all that's left is the raw center, exposed to the chilly air like an open wound.
"Aren'tcha boys more excited about this?" Their mother cuts through Atsumu's thoughts like a knife, extracting him from an anxious spiral back to reality. In the face of it, he turns, as he always does, to Osamu, who seems to be looking to him for the same familiar comfort."This is the chance of a lifetime! We could join two kingdoms-"
"Waddaya want us ta do ma? Fight for his hand in marriage? No fuckin' way, I'm out," Atsumu does as Atsumu will do, which means that he's made up his mind before even giving his mother the chance to explain - though, it's not as though it's unclear. Atsumu sees this for what it is clear as fucking day. And he knows what's going to happen if he goes through with it.
"Atsumu! Please ya gotta consider this!" She pleads in a way that, under any normal circumstances, would have him running to her seeking forgiveness and comfort. That's not the case this time.
This time, he pushes to his feet with finality, making the way he distances himself from any mention of this proposal blatantly evident. He's not doing it. He's not going to be a fucking sell-out and leave his brother all alone because some prissy rich boy from a neighboring country decided he wants to get married. Like whoopty-fucking-doo, get someone else with your personality like normal people have been for thousands of years.
"Fine, ma, ya want me ta consider it? Fine, I'll consider it," he folds his arms and stands steadfast, unmoving as a statue might be - Atsumu's always been the more stubborn of the two, and even now, he speaks for both of them.
"I'll consider the fact thatcha want me ta leave my brother behind so this fucking prim-proper bitch doesn't have to put in the effort ta find himself a real husband. An' I'll consider the fact that yer sellin' us ta this family we've never met before fer a fuckin' business deal. An' I'll tell ya like I did the first time that I'm not fuckin' doin' it no way no how. An' ya can't fucking make me."
He knows he sounds spoiled and entitled and just like every stereotype of a prince he's been goaded with his entire life. But he can't bring himself to care as he storms off, the petulant child in him he's long locked away making its flamboyant reprise.
He hides in his room the rest of the day, only sneaking out at night with Osamu and Sunarin to get French fries at a local fast food place - they're never allowed such indulgences because they're considered beneath royalty, but he hardly cares. Plus, he feels the rushing high that comes with such a small, inconsequential rebellion go straight to his soul like a shot of morphine for the pain.
You might wonder how one sneaks out of a 24/7 heavily guarded facility such as a royal palace and you might be surprised at how easy it is, especially when the guards at the front gate like you and take bribes for your mother's cookies (which are also really easy to get your hands on if you play your cards right). Plus, Sunarin always aids in their escapes - never a boring moment with that guy around.
In the following weeks, they don't talk about their mother's proposal, Miori doesn't even mention it, nor does their father. Atsumu's convinced the storm's finally passed.
He finds out three days after his birthday that Osamu took the bullet and said yes.
---
"Do you, Osamu Miya, take Kiyoomi Sakusa to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death you do part, according to God's holy law, and this your solemn vow?"
Atsumu is so focused on suppressing an eye-roll that he barely remembers to react to his brother's name as his own - no cause for concern though, he catches the unnatural silence before it gets awkward.
"Uh, yeah, I do."
He'll admit if asked that Kiyoomi Sakusa is a gorgeous specimen of a human being. High cheekbones and dark eyes that could hold storms or stars, maybe a beautiful amalgamation of both. Lips that look soft and eyelashes that have no right to be as long as they are and- god, that jawline could cut glass - all framed by dark curls set perfectly in place.
Kiyoomi Sakusa is nothing short of absolutely stunning, and it would be safe to say that the way his face is completely devoid of emotion even on this, his very wedding day, is oddly alluring in a way that Atsumu doesn't have solid words for.
However-
"Do you, Kiyoomi Sakusa, take Osamu Miya to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death you do part, according to God's holy law, and this your solemn vow?"
"Yes, I do," of course his voice is pretty too, it's only fitting.
It's ironic, Atsumu thinks in that moment, that this is, by all accounts the best thing he could've asked for in life. His "husband" (he refuses to call him that in all seriousness) is rich, part of a royal family, and goddamn if he isn't one of the most beautiful people ever to walk on the face of the earth - Atsumu begins to theorize at that moment. Is Kiyoomi a god in mortal form?
It's ironic that his whole life he's foreseen this exact outcome as the ideal scenario, that this is exactly what he should want out of life. He's standing here on an altar, holding the hands of a man who can and likely will give him everything he could ever want to have.
And yet it all feels so wrong, like Atsumu's living a life that isn't his, playing a part he never auditioned for. He guesses with the utmost bitterness that it tends to be that way when you're marrying someone you absolutely refused to even so much as meet mere days ago.
It feels wrong that he's up on that stupid altar with this gorgeous man while a million fucking diplomats and shit look at them like they're the best thing ever to happen to the international community. It feels wrong that this...guy, Kiyoomi, is holding his hands like they've ever even met each other before this whole shit show started. It feels wrong that Osamu's out there watching him, soon to be a distant memory once he departs to a new life that doesn't even belong to him.
It all feels wrong, and he knows that nothing in the goddamn world would make it feel right. And he reminds himself as he stares into eyes that are as beautiful as they are soulless, that this, all of this, is for Osamu. He doesn't mind. He swears on his life he doesn't, not if this will make his brother happy. So he adjusts his courage and stares straight into the eyes of the man he's supposed to be falling in love with as the priest says,
"You may now kiss the groom."
This is what good brothers do, right?