The Debt of Our Breaths

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/44603638.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Underage
Category: M/M
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Relationship: Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu
Character: Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu and Miya Osamu's Mother
Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Sex, Rimming,
Forehead Kisses, Sloppy Makeouts, Masturbation, Codependency,
Sibling Incest, Twincest, True Love, Poverty, Anal Fingering,
Unprotected Sex, Established Relationship, Suspicious Mother,
Consensual Underage Sex, Bottom Miya Atsumu, Top Miya Osamu,
osaatsu, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Absent Parents, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Collections: miyacestfest
Stats: Published: 2023-02-04 Words: 3047

The Debt of Our Breaths

Summary

There's nothing like dire circumstances to close-knit a family together, they say.

Osamu and Atsumu, burdened by the weight of their poverty, cope in a way different from
regular siblings.

“Relax, ‘Samu, I ain’t runnin’ away.”, Atsumu whispered into his ears, but
even he couldn’t deny the urgency with which he started to suck on his twin’s
tongue. More than fearing that Osamu would vanish into thin air, it was as if
he himself would die without a kiss. Like Osamu was a lifeline he would fall
into the abyss without.

Notes

Prompt:

Atsumu and Osamu grow up poor. Their Pa left when they were babies and their Ma works
two jobs to make ends meet. They’re left to fend for themselves a lot. Both a little hungry, a
little dirty and a little unloved.

They come to rely only on each other. Finding comfort in each other’s bodies and there’s no
 one around to stop them or tell them how wrong it is.

(Can be as young as you like. Angsty and hurt/comfort okay as long as the boys are in love
and so codependent neither can exist without the other and neither ever wants to leave.)

See the end of the work for more notes

Creaking floorboards, cheap paper wallpapers, cob-webbed ceilings, non-functioning lights. They
sound like such eye-sores, such abject inconveniences, but they don’t really hold a candle to the
overwhelming, desperate longing for food growling in one's stomach. Osamu can attest to it. On
paper, really.

If you grew up as poor as Osamu did, you’d know the effects of poverty. It eats at your soul, leaves
you a hollow husk of yourself, till you don’t know you. Its not a life he would recommend to
anyone, no matter how many stories romanticize poverty, but at least he has a family to make
things a tad bit bearable.

As soon as he comes back from school, he calls out for his twin, running across the tiny apartment.
Atsumu is in their tiny living room, calculating finances for the family budget, nibbling on his nails
to ward off his hunger. He had stopped going to school, not able to maintain his grades enough to
attain the scholarship Osamu was currently studying on. So he stays home and studies from
Osamu’s notes and worksheets in hope of passing the high school certification exam directly as a
private candidate. Though frankly, he hasn’t been able to make much progress.

Their Ma had made herself sick with guilt at not being capable enough to afford Atsumu’s school
fees, and had to miss two days of both her day and night jobs. This led to a major pay cut and only
adversely served to mess up their bills. Friends at school keep asking Osamu about why his twin
dropped out of school but what do those rich bastards know anyway? They have no idea how hard
it is to cycle to a school five kilometer away on an empty stomach when they simply step out of
their Mercedes at the gates. Or how the twins cook instant ramen every evening and season it with
whatever ratshit they have at home when those bastards would probably be stuffing themselves full
of sushi and crab from high end restros.

It has not always been like this. There used to be a time when their Ma stayed at home, and a tall
figure they called Pa used to go out for work and earn cash and give them warm food for their
bellies and soft blankets for the cold nights. He was no longer here, though; Pa disappeared from
the the affluent apartment they lived in without any prior notice, leaving them to shift into this
bleak, three storied residential building on the outskirts of the city.

Sometimes Osamu wonders if Ma blamed them for her husband’s disappearance. On the rare
occasions she had an off day from work, when the three of them would sit around the broken
kotatsu, he would sometimes catch her eyes shining with an indecipherable light as she gazed at the
twins, as if she held dark secrets of them which they weren’t privy to themselves. Those all-
knowing, skeptical eyes peeking under from her haphazardly cut bangs. So bright.

They should have been more alert. After all, they had secrets alright.

Atsumu stands at his tiptoes, a tired smile playing on his unwashed face as he leaned over for a
kiss. Osamu indulged him, a tiny peck on the lips, before diving back for a deeper, stronger one.
With a sigh as Atsumu licks into his lips, he grabs his waist, near his hips with a strong grip, as if
he would dissolve into thin air if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

“Relax, ‘Samu, I ain’t runnin’ away.”, Atsumu whispers into his ears, but even he can't deny the
urgency with which he starts to suck on his twin’s tongue. More than fearing that Osamu would
vanish into thin air, it was as if he himself would die without a kiss. Like Osamu was a lifeline he
would fall into the abyss without.

Their innocent make out heated up when Osamu grabs Atsumu’s ass, kneading it and gently
slapping it as he had done so many times before. They don’t even remember a time when they
were normal siblings in the traditional sense of the word. Always, they had been taking and giving,
touching and feeling. They have eyes to see each other and mouths just to kiss each other.

“Shouldn’t you do your homework first, ‘Samu?”, Atsumu breaks away with a gasp, only to lean
his head back when Osamu starts biting and licking at his neck.

“It's okay, I did it all during lunch break. And math I will do after dinner.”, Osamu gruffly answers,
gently pushing his brother back till he is on the uncarpeted ground, instinctively spreading his legs.

Atsumu is wearing a pajama set from two years back, the hem of the pants reaching just above his
ankles. Osamu had several pleasant memories with it, like the time he pushed the pants down to
Atsumu’s knees and rimmed him on their futon while their mother was out in the living room. Now
that he thought of it, wasn’t the set originally his?

“Stupid ‘Tsumu, always stealing my stuff and proclaiming them as yours.”, Osamu chides as he
nips at Atsumu’s ear, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt to run his hands over the pale skin underneath.
His ribs protrude out. Osamu hates that he found it sexy, his brother’s malnutrition; he would
perhaps still find Atsumu hot if he was morbidly obese.
“Proclaiming? Is that a new word they taught you at school, ‘Samu?”. Osamu wonders why they
said each other’s name so much. Perhaps it was a way to cement their love for each other. A
reminder of who they were kissing and who they were adoring. He pinches a pert, brown nipple,
watching it pebble with half-fascination. Atsumu hastens to remove his pants and boxers in one go.

Atsumu sucks in a breath, using one hand to fondle his other nipple, while stroking his cock with
the other. “You are getting behind on your school stuff. I will sit you at night and make you learn
the new vocab.”, Osamu’s voice was strident, but his expression is so clouded in lust at the sight of
his brother masturbating that the severity of his voice didn't effect Atsumu at all.

“Why would I need to study when I’m just gonna be your pretty little wife, ‘Samu? Plus, I don’t
need a degree for a job anyways.”, Atsumu stutters out, dipping his index finger near his hole.

“Because that would just leave you poor, you scrub? Studying is important if you want to have
money!”, he slaps away the finger teasing at Atsumu’s rim, instead replacing them with his own.
They didn’t need any lube; they had no money to buy it, anyways.

Atsumu whimpers, and moans freely; he didn’t need to stop or hide his sounds, no one was home
anyways. And even if Ma was outside, lingering, loitering around to catch a clue on why she finds
her sons so suspicious, Osamu would swallow the noise with his own mouth.

“Can we shift to the bedroom? The floor is too harsh.”, Atsumu requests, and Osamu urgently
picks him up bridal style and strides to their shared bedroom. It was a testament to how frail
Atsumu was growing by the day, and how mooching off Suna’s high protein lunch was bulking
Osamu up. He didn't like it, him growing fat while Atsumu starves. Next time, he would beg for
some food to take home for Atsumu.

Atsumu grips Osamu’s arm as he lay limp in his brother’s embrace like a cat. Osamu strokes the
skin under his knees and gently loweres him down on their futon. “Quick, quick, quick!”, Atsumu
mutters, grabbing Osamu’s school tie to pull him closer and Osamu laughs, a breathy little sound
that sounded like the whispering of the wind.

“Lay all over me, quick!”, and Osamu obliges. He shrugs off his blazer and shirt and covering
Atsumu’s body with his, skin-to-skin, resting his weight on the boy, just like he likes. “Will you
mend my blazer later, ‘Tsumu? It got a tiny hole in it.”, and by the gods, didn’t Osamu really sound
like a working husband? The thought bolsters his arousal more and he lets Atsumu know, humping
his thighs like a dog in heat.

Before Atsumu can retort some snarky reply to his desperation, Osamu kisses him again, heavy
and yet tender, shielding him from the world as he stuck his tongue as far as it would go into his
mouth. It was messy, it was gross but this was Atsumu and he was Osamu, and nothing was off-
limits when it came to them.

Atsumu cleverly slips a hand between them to palm at Osamu’s stiffening dick over his trousers,
pre-cum beading through his boxers, before using it as lube to stretch his rim as he prepared
himself for his twin. It was a daily routine for them: Atsumu does the household chores and
prepares for dinner while Osamu’s at school, then he comes back and they have sex, and then they
clean the room with old newspapers, and get started to cooking dinner together, and if Ma doesn’t
have a night-off, study together in between some light kissing and go sleep.

It is boring and it is tedious but it was familiar and comfortable. Osamu thinks he would never get
tired of looking at his brother’s asshole even when they were 30 and married. It is simply
fascinating, watching the pink, puckered hole flutter and wink at him so teasingly as he imagines
the tight grip it will have around his dick. Atsumu has stopped being shy a long time ago, and even
put on a show on days he felt generous. Today was one of those days as he fingers himself with
three fingers, spreading and scissoring himself as he made little moans of pleasure.

“Think ‘m ready, ‘Samu.”, Atsumu whispers, so gently, like a prayer and Osamu thrust in a single
swoop, drinking in the beautiful moan Atsumu chokes out. Osamu kisses him again, it is his
favorite thing to do with his brother, to taste and prod at his mouth with his tongue, sometimes
tasting morning’s breakfast if Atsumu had some.

Atsumu closes his eyes, tears leaking though at the impact of Osamu’s cock slamming repeatedly
inside him, and this slights Osamu. He slows down his pace, angling his dick the wrong way so
that it won’t hit the spot inside him that shows him the universe. Atsumu snaps his eyes open,
brown and lovely and moist, lips in a wordless frown. Osamu had always loved Atsumu's eyes.
They are the only thing of his that wasn’t identical to Osamu’s. Even their hair have reverted to
their original state, saving a lot of dye money.

“Keep yer eyes open, ‘Tsumu. Keep ‘em on me, and don’t let ‘em wander”, he orders, picking up
his pace and watching with drunk eyes how Atsumu’s pretty face scrunches up in pleasure, brows
drawn so tight they looked half ugly, and eyes threatening to flutter shut in the wake of pleasure.

“I-I think ‘m close.”, Atsumu wails, reaching down to jerk himself, but Osamu slaps his hand
away. He doesn't want anyone touching Atsumu’s body, not even Atsumu himself. Osamu is pretty
close himself.

“I think I want to lock ya up, ‘Tsumu. Put on a whole chastity belt like they did to their wives back
in the day and keep the key with myself, so only I can give ya release.”, he rambles openly, tongue
loose during the tremendous onslaught of pleasure.
‘Just, ah! Just what kinda shit are they teachin’ ya at school, scrub? Is this why education is
important, so that ya can dirty talk yer twin into oblivion?”. The words Atsumu had spoke were not
teasing or sensual in the slightest, but they still do their thing, and soon Osamu is coming loads into
Atsumu’s hole, the squelch sound so vulgar as the cum put pressure on his dick from Atsumu’s
insides.

Atsumu comes too, his climax long and gentle, eyes closed in an expression of pure bliss and teeth
biting his lips to muffle his own sounds. They stay locked together like that for a heavy minute,
both panting in unison. Finally, Osamu pulls out with a wince. Cum gushes out of the red and
abused hole, bubbling, and Osamu follows the moment with hungry eyes. Atsumu shifts his leg as
he scoops it back inside with his fingers.

“Shitty, ‘Samu! That feels gross. Clean me up.”, Atsumu wrinkles his nose like Osamu had taken a
shit right on the floor in front of him, but his twin simply lowers himself to the floor, eye-level with
his ass.

“’Samu, I swear to ‘ta gods, don’t do that, ya know ‘m sensitive after fuckin’, ah!”, he yelps as
Osamu slides his tongue right inside the loose hole, slurping up his own cum noisily. Above him,
somewhere, Atsumu muttered, “every single time”, but he pays him no mind. Who can with a
mouthful of ass?

Osamu doesn't let him rest until Atsumu comes a second time, and his twin’s hole is now sparkly
clean. Wordlessly, he passes Atsumu his pajama.

“Ugh, I ‘ave to wash my pants now, it got cum stains on it.”, Osamu laments, scrubbing at the spot
with his fingers. He has only one pair of pants for school, and it is too late to hand-wash it and dry
it off. They couldn’t afford a washing machine or a dryer.

“Don’t rub it like that, ya freak! It will only stain more. Gimme it, shampoo easily removes cum
stains. Ya have boxers for tomorrow though, right?”, Atsumu scolds servely, but Osamu’s eyes
softens as he gazes at his mother hen of a twin with warm eyes and a fond smile.

“What? Why are ya smiling like a creep?”, Atsumu turns red, averting his eyes, suddenly flustered.
Osamu grabs his waist and pulls him close, ignoring his back pain. “Ya like it when I'm a creepy
pervert.”, Osamu retorts back, hiding his face in his twin’s neck. Atsumu squirms for a bit before
he allows himself to get comfortable, leaning back as Osamu nibbles on his skin.
“Don’t leave any marks. Ma doesn’t have a night-shift today.”

“What a shame. I wanted to fuck ya once more today.”, Osamu murmurs, holding Atsumu’s hand.

“Aren’t ya supposed to do yer math homework?”, Atsumu snaps back, but even a deaf man can
make out his arousal-laden voice. He was really bad at hiding his emotions

“Don’t ya think studying is unimportant?”

“It is!”, Atsumu insists, breaking free from Osamu’s grasp and heading towards the dusty kitchen
to prepare dinner. “Ya don’t need studying to open a shop, for example!”

“Ya actually do.”, Osamu follows him, but the thought sets him in motion. He won't really need to
go the whole way to college and acquire student loans just for a mid-tier job, and opening a
business is the quickest way to money. The risks are high, but so are the profits.

Hmm.

“What’s for dinner?”, he gently rests his head above Atsumu’s, inhaling the aromatic smell of hot-
pot. It isn't nearly as nice as the ones Suna and the lot would have at their five-star hotels, but it
was from home, cooked by Atsumu, who pours his love in each and every meal, however
inconsequential it seems.

“You have eyes, don’t cha?”, Atsumu voice isn't rude at all, stirring the broth with a wooden spoon
chipped at the ends and feeding Osamu periodically with little spoonfuls. It is endearing, of all
things.

“Could use a bit of salt.”, he shoots back, just to be a little shit but Atsumu heartily laughs, no
offense taken.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu?”

“Hmm?”
“I love ya, ya know?”

Atsumu turns back, eyes alight. “Why do ya say it like ya are dying? Wait, ya had that health check
up at school, right?" He runs a hand over Osamu's chest. "Did something come up in the results?”.
He leaves the pot unattended, scanning Osamu’s body as if he could pick up an ailment just like
that.

“No way, ‘m as healthy as a horse.”, Osamu smiles back, directing Atsumu back to the pot gently,
heart giving a swoop of joy when Atsumu lowers his panicking eyes in relief. “I mean it, though. I
really, really love ya, Atsumu.”

The use of his full name has Atsumu blossoming like a lotus bud, eyes huge and expressive, and
Osamu scoops him in his arms and inhales his smell. He didn’t shower today too. Still so lovable.

“I guess, I guess, I love ya too.”, Atsumu finally replies, voice on the edge of cracking.

“And when we are finally legal, we’re gonna buy a shop and start an onigiri business.”

“Takes a lot of capital ta save that kinda money, ‘Samu.”, Atsumu petulantly turns off the stove,
but Osamu could tell he fancies the idea.

“We’ll manage. Save some money and buy a shop. Take a loan. Rent, maybe?”

“Ya ‘ave thought about this.”

“Not a single moment goes by when I ain’t thinking about ya and I and our future.”

Atsumu stays silent for a minute before he stood on his tiptoes and kisses Osamu so hard he felt
dizzy.

“If ya ever turn away from me,”, Atsumu mutters in a rare moment of vulnerability, “I think I will
die. Really. Not kiddin’.” His eyes are shining. Why d they shine so bright and why does Osamu
 have the misfortune of falling in love with his own brother?

“Me too. For real. Can’t live without ya. Wanna elope with ya.”, he presses a lingering kiss to his
forehead and wishes it could express all his frustrations, his anguish, his regrets, his short-comings,
his fears, his adoration, his affection and his love for his twin.

Atsumu simply closes his eyes in understanding, mouth half open. He gets it. They are a single
soul in two bodies. Who else would understand?

The opening of a rusty door signals the arrival of their tired, haggard mother.

“Atsumu, Osamu, I'm home!”

Putting their masks of good, upstanding sons back on, the Miya Twins serve dinner on the broken
kotatsu, unbeknownst to their mother how they linked their pinkies under the table.

End Notes

I might have not stayed loyal to the prompt entirely but I hope you enjoy. Also the title has
no special meaning, I just bullshitted it.

I might have taken the poor thing too far, though.

many thanks to my betas, Ari and Kittiana for their worthwhile contribution. Y'all really
helped me a lot.

here is my twitter

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