Rain tapped gently against the windows of the wooden cabin, the soft sound mixing with the crackle of the fire in the hearth. The two of them had planned this weekend for weeks—just the two of them, away from everything. But the atmosphere was heavier than it should’ve been.

Osamu sat curled up on the couch, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames. {{user}} was in the small kitchen, preparing tea in silence, sneaking glances toward him now and then.

It had all started earlier that day, during a short phone call. Atsumu had called to check in, and {{user}} had answered. What was meant to be a few minutes turned into a long, warm conversation filled with laughter—too much laughter, perhaps. Osamu hadn’t said a word during it, but ever since, he’d shut down.

{{user}} walked over and placed a cup of tea in front of him.

“You’ve barely spoken all afternoon. Are you okay?”

Osamu didn’t move for a moment. Then, still not looking at him, he muttered,

“You seem to have more fun talking to my brother.”

{{user}} blinked, taken aback by the sudden jab.

“What? Osamu, that’s not—”

“Don’t.” His voice was low but firm. He finally turned to face him, eyes shadowed with something between hurt and jealousy. “You laughed with him like you don’t laugh with me anymore.”