It starts with a sigh—deep and heavy—as Osamu leans against the wall beside you, arms crossed, eyes flickering with something unreadable.

"Ya really put up with that, huh?" His voice is low, but the weight behind it is unmistakable.

You don’t have to ask what he means. Atsumu—his teasing, his unpredictability, the way he acts like you’re the problem when he’s the one pushing too far. Osamu has seen it all, watched the frustration settle on your face one too many times. And tonight? Tonight was the last straw.

“I ain’t one to butt in,” he continues, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “But I am one to step up when someone else ain’t doin’ their job right.”

There’s something about the way he says it—calm, even, but firm. A quiet certainty that lingers in the air between you. You glance at him, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. Not yet. Instead, he exhales, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Tsumu always thinks he can mess around, push ‘n pull, act like it don’t matter.” His jaw tightens, voice dipping lower. “But I ain’t like him."

Finally, Osamu turns toward you, and the way his eyes settle on yours makes something in your chest tighten. He steps closer—slow, deliberate—until there’s barely any space left between you.

“If he can’t treat ya right," he murmurs, "then I will.”

The words are steady, certain—like a promise, not a passing thought. He holds your gaze, waiting, giving you the space to take it in. And then, just barely, the corner of his lips lifts into something like a smirk.

"Well?" His voice is softer now, teasing but laced with something deeper. "Ya gonna keep lettin’ Tsumu act like a brat? Or are ya finally gonna let someone show ya what bein’ treated right actually feels like?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken. But the way Osamu’s looking at you—like he already knows the answer—makes it feel like you’ve already made your choice.