Look at me and my slow-ass updates BI


It wouldn't be the first time Osomatsu didn't come home for the night.

There's six of them, all the same in some ways, but so vastly different in others and damn them if they don't cling to the little shreds of individuality they have left, whatever those may be.

And if that means going out to fuck up on their lonesome, then so be it. They've all been there.

So when Osomatsu stumbles in way past midnight, his brothers barely acknowledge him.

They're still up since it's a Friday, and staying up late is what you do on those days. Some movie is droning on in the background, but nobody is paying any attention.

Karamatsu is the only one to actually welcome him home, but does so without looking up from the mirror that is preoccupying him. Osomatsu keeps one hand against his cheek just in case.

Nothing more is forthcoming and he tries hard not to limp when he passes through the room, tries to not flinch with every stab of pain down his right leg.

But it's not until he closes the bathroom door behind him that he can breathe again.

It looks even worse in the harsh fluorescent lights than it did back in the alley, and he thought he looked pretty shitty back then.

Prying the hoodie off reveals spots of blue and green that he can only hope will fade into dull purple and black soon. He rubs against a particularly big one against his side and wonders if the rib underneath is broken.

That sure would be a pain.

With shaking hands he tries to wash the grime from his face, frowning at the red that fills the sink. Eating with a split lip will be annoying for a little while, but it's not like Osomatsu hasn't been there before.

No, he's more worried about...

He sits on the edge of the toilet as he tries to remove his jeans without making the wound any worse, hissing through tightly clenched teeth. The fabric sticks to the skin where blood has soaked into it, and pulling it off proves quite painful.

At last he is looking at the cut as it is, wiping blood from the edges and praying no sutures will be needed. That could pose to be a problem.

The first aid kit is still in the living room, and Osomatsu knows he can't just go out there looking like this.

He balls up a wad of toilet paper instead, wrapping it around the wound like make-shift bandages and hoping it will stop the bleeding.

It will have to do for now at least.

When there is a banging at the door, Osomatsu nearly falls of the seat.

"Oi, what are you doing in there, jerking off or something?"

He tries to calm his racing heart before answering. "I'll be right out."

It's a response lacking his usual smart-ass quality, but right now Osomatsu is too tired to come up with anything more profound. Apparently it's enough anyway, because he can hear Ichimatsu shuffle past the door again.

He swallows, trying to ignore the faint taste of iron lingering at the back of his throat and gets up.

He can do this. He can keep them from knowing. He can keep them save.

He has no other choice.


Choromatsu is of the decided opinion that he is surrounded by idiots. That is to say, his brothers.

And there is no doubt he is the smartest among them.

But then again, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to notice the glaringly obvious black eye Osomatsu came home with today... not to mention the general paleness and other injuries littering his face and hands.

They're in the bedroom, trying to force the futon into a flat position on the floor and pulling out pillows from seemingly nowhere, and damn it everybody must have noticed it by now, mustn't they?

Is this going to be another one of those things. The ones where they just try to ignore the issue, because the issue could mean feelings and emotions and if there is one thing the Matsuno brothers do not deal well with, it's emotions.

"Nii-san, what happened to your eye? Did you get in a fight?" Jyushimatsu blurts suddenly, and everybody's head automatically turns towards Osomatsu for a response.

It figures the fifth brother would be the first to give in to boundless curiosity, disregarding the potential fallout, but everyone was certainly listening now.

Osomatsu looks up over his shoulder almost guiltily. He's standing in the corner, buttoning his shirt unusually hastily and why is he doing that?

They see each other naked all the time, they bathe together for fucks sake, why would he-

Choromatsu stops the thought because, yikes, emotions. They're not dealing with that, remember?

"Oh, this?" Osomatsu touches the bruise carefully, two fingertips, like he just now noticed and there's a smile on his face that nearly reaches his eyes. "It's nothing, Jyushi. I got into a fight again."

Todomatsu snorts loudly from where he's already tucked beneath the blanket, fiddling with his phone. "And they kicked your ass, did they?"

"You shouldn't get into fights, Nii-san." Choromatsu grumbles, because it's the responsible thing to say, and also because he doesn't know what else to do. Because being the sane one is his job.

"Are you sure it's fine though, brother?" Karamatsu asks, and his voice is so much quieter than normally. "Maybe some ice wo-"

"I'm sure it's fine." Osomatsu says quickly, taking his place between Choromatsu and Todomatsu on the futon. His voice is steady and firm and Osomatsu is such a good liar it's a bit frightening.

"But I-" Karamatsu tries again, but Ichimatsu interrupts him. "You heard the guy, shittymatsu. Now turn off the lights, we're trying to sleep here."

Karamatsu seems to physically bite his tongue for a second, before wordlessly turning around and doing as their younger brother suggested. He's tugging at his sleeves in what has now become an accustomed nervous habit to the others, but nobody says anything.

They just lay in silence and try to ignore the obvious.