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For Atsumu, the best part of Halloween parties had always been more than the booze and the complete abandonment of reservations. Though they were the tipping point of Atsumu's night, the thing he looked forward to the most was becoming someone entirely different.
Not the setter. Not the loud one. Not the blond. Not the twin.
Not the spitting image of the man currently crowding him into a corner of a locked bathroom-boosted bass rattling the door against its hinges and muffling every whine from Atsumu's mouth that Osamu's failed to catch.
Osamu's gloved grip around Atsumu's throat tightened as they pressed impossibly closer with each roll of their hips.
"C'mon. I'm suffocatin' in this."
"Ruinin' it," Atsumu choked out.
Blearily, he searched for Osamu's eyes, his eyes, beyond the shaded holes of the white mask. The comfort of being entirely different. Hidden. It was what Atsumu yearned for year after year. A way to push off the disgusting feeling that slithered in the back of his mind every time they kissed goodnight, curled fingers together beneath blankets, left teeth indents for remembrance.
Expletives he couldn't make out were spit beneath the mask before Osamu pulled his hand back to shove it upward into his hair. Bangs pushed back, sweat beading at his brow, snarl bearing down at Atsumu.
There was no snake.
Nothing but the dull ache of the entire world holding him against the wall and the precipice beckoning him to fall.
"Kiss me. 'Samu, pleasepleaseplease-"
Their teeth clacked with the force of it. Unpracticed in feel with each desperate instance of their tongues swiping against each other. Routine in how their noses merely brushed with each practiced turn of their heads.
It has always been just them. An inescapable truth Atsumu was tired of running from.