Day F0ur - Koko wa Greenwood
Mitsuru x Shinobu
=======================================================================
Aurorae
by Alexandra Lucas
[email protected]
=======================================================================
The train was crowded, packed full of people going on vacation and
students going home for winter break. They were jostled together
for almost the whole duration of the short journey, face to face with
their suitcases tucked between them for safety, pressed together by
the crush, though they avoided meeting each other's eyes and made no
conversation at all. Shinobu looked out the window, the countryside
a blur of green trees and white-gray suburbia, as remote and aloof as
if he had been completely alone, while Mitsuru stared at a spot behind
Shinobu's shoulder, between the aquiline profile of his face and the
line of the arm hanging on to the railing. He could feel the tension
coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach, building up in the tendons
along his neck.
He was going home.
=======================================================================
They were pounced on the moment they set foot outside the station, his
whole family beaming like idiots in helpless joy, his mother giving
them warm hugs padded and made awkward by her thick coat, all
/howwasthetripwasitlong/ and /youboysmustbecoldandtiredpoorthings/,
clucking over how tall Mitsuru had gotten since he'd last been home and
had he been eating properly? Masato, beside her, was talking as fast as
she was, running his mouth a mile a minute about school and holiday
projects and monster teachers who gave too much homework and how was
Ryoukurin, was it good, did Mitsuru think he could get in? Until
Mitsuru had no choice but to laugh, a little painfully, and lift his
hands in surrender - No, sure, I have, we should get home before
it starts snowing, we can talk there. His father just hung back from
the chaos, smiling foolishly at all of them. Shinobu stood by his side,
gently amused and very politely greeting Mitsuru's mother, bowing and
thanking her for allowing a person as unworthy as he to stay in her
house, apologizing in advance for all her trouble. Mitsuru blinked, and
stared in bemusement. He couldn't remember Shinobu ever being quite
so... self-effacing to another person before. He couldn't remember
Shinobu ever making the effort.
They piled into the car and both of them were squeezed into the tiny
back seat, his mother asking Shinobu what he would like for dinner and
Masato digging a surreptious elbow into his side, whispering about the
new games that he has waiting at home, and Mitsuru found that he had
to blink back unexpected tears.
=======================================================================
"Was it as bad as you thought it would be?"
They were lying side by side, covered by two layers of blankets to keep
out the cold. His mother had dragged out another futon for Shinobu and
when they had unrolled it after dinner and placed it next to his, they
had barely been enough floorspace left to walk to the door. It was
past midnight, Masato having snuck in and talked for a solid two hours,
during which Shinobu had discreetly and tactfully removed himself to
the corner and pulled out a book. By the time he had sent Masato off
to his own bed, vetoing his pleas to stay 'just for tonight' and they
had crawled beneath the covers, the lights had been turned off outside
and it was pitch dark.
"No, it wasn't." Mitsuru moved closer to Shinobu, reaching between the
layers of cloth to touch skin - Shinobu's arm. He felt the small flinch
under his fingers, the tiny movement away from him before it is
stilled. He let his hand remain there, kept the feather-light
contact. He could barely see the curve of Shinobu's face in the
darkness, just the subtle shine of skin and the glimmer where his eyes
might be.
"You were afraid that they wouldn't welcome you back." Shinobu's voice
was coolly detached, more unnerving than usual coming out the shadow
that was his face, but the arm under his shifted and grasped his arm,
the gleam of his eyes more piercing than before. "You shouldn't. They
always will, no matter how long you stay away, no matter how far away
from them you go."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything, just
moved even closer, lying almost in the seam between Shinobu's futon
and his.
Shinobu had always been able to see things that he couldn't. That he
didn't want to see.
=======================================================================
He didn't see much of Shinobu in the next few days, but the awareness
of him hovered around the edges of his mind while he spent, at
Shinobu's quiet encouragement, most of his time with Masato. Dawning on
him along the way, like a hangover can dawn on you with all the
subtlety of a brick, just how /much/ Masato looked up to him. Still
does. So he stands in the middle of the living room, uncomfortable but
quiet, while Masato invites his friends over and regales them with
stories about Ryoukurin he soaks up from Mitsuru at night.
It gets closer to Christmas, and his mother enlists his help in putting
up the small decorations - no tree, but plenty of wallspace they hang
with bright cards friends have sent, and, with a girlish, embarassed
giggle, some mistletoe a neighbour brought over. He tries not to think
too hard about the giggle, and the way she blushed, because foster son
or no, he's just never going to be able to go there without cringing.
So, in lieu of that, he thinks about Shinobu, standing not two feet
away fixing it above the door, and about where they are going instead.
The nights, after Masato had dragged himself out to seek his own bed,
when they lie for long moments in the dark before going to sleep, and
how Shinobu doesn't flinch anymore when he touches him. How last night,
he had fallen into the gap between their beds, lying on the ice-cold
tatami, and Shinobu had sat up, helped him back into his blankets with
an admonishment that he would catch cold again, and Shinobu wouldn't
be nursing him back to health this time, and then had moved closer of
his own accord.
Last night, he had gone to sleep with his hand tucked in the warm
hollow next to Shinobu's chin, his cool breath on the lids of his eyes.
He wonders, with a vicious little jab of fear, if their friendship
can die like this, lying between them in the dark, and if it is worth
it. If he can stop.
(Would you be there to welcome me back, too?)
Shinobu comes back, glances at him and untangles a string of lights
from the box. Contemplates the best way to string them across the
windows while he waits for Mitsuru to do the next one and join him.
Too late for that. He brought them to this stage too, this delicate
knife's edge their relationship hangs on, and every night he stops
just short of pushing them both over, tipping one side or the other.
Shinobu is standing back and letting him. Uncharacteristic of him,
really, but then, maybe he knows, just like Mitsuru is coming to
know, that the choice was made long before this.
It was right there in front of him all along.
=======================================================================
He sends Masato out earlier than usual tonight, then stalks over to
Shinobu, who looks up from the book at him calmly. Mitsuru plucks it
out of his hands, tosses it away, and kneels beside him.
"You," he announces solemnly, "are one of the most manipulative,
conniving bastards I have ever met." Jabs his finger into Shinobu's
chest to emphasize the point, and Shinobu, infuriatingly, just smiles
his cat's smile at him.
"Was I supposed to have to show you everything you were blind to? What
would be the point of that?"
"It might have saved me some sleepless nights. You could've at least
made things easier."
He looks at him for a moment, intently, then shakes his head. "No."
Mitsuru just starts laughing, helplessly. "Stupid," he chokes out,
between giggles.
Shinobu replies serenely, "Yes, you are."
Mitsuru leans forward and kisses him.
=======================================================================
Mitsuru x Shinobu
=======================================================================
Aurorae
by Alexandra Lucas
[email protected]
=======================================================================
The train was crowded, packed full of people going on vacation and
students going home for winter break. They were jostled together
for almost the whole duration of the short journey, face to face with
their suitcases tucked between them for safety, pressed together by
the crush, though they avoided meeting each other's eyes and made no
conversation at all. Shinobu looked out the window, the countryside
a blur of green trees and white-gray suburbia, as remote and aloof as
if he had been completely alone, while Mitsuru stared at a spot behind
Shinobu's shoulder, between the aquiline profile of his face and the
line of the arm hanging on to the railing. He could feel the tension
coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach, building up in the tendons
along his neck.
He was going home.
=======================================================================
They were pounced on the moment they set foot outside the station, his
whole family beaming like idiots in helpless joy, his mother giving
them warm hugs padded and made awkward by her thick coat, all
/howwasthetripwasitlong/ and /youboysmustbecoldandtiredpoorthings/,
clucking over how tall Mitsuru had gotten since he'd last been home and
had he been eating properly? Masato, beside her, was talking as fast as
she was, running his mouth a mile a minute about school and holiday
projects and monster teachers who gave too much homework and how was
Ryoukurin, was it good, did Mitsuru think he could get in? Until
Mitsuru had no choice but to laugh, a little painfully, and lift his
hands in surrender - No, sure, I have, we should get home before
it starts snowing, we can talk there. His father just hung back from
the chaos, smiling foolishly at all of them. Shinobu stood by his side,
gently amused and very politely greeting Mitsuru's mother, bowing and
thanking her for allowing a person as unworthy as he to stay in her
house, apologizing in advance for all her trouble. Mitsuru blinked, and
stared in bemusement. He couldn't remember Shinobu ever being quite
so... self-effacing to another person before. He couldn't remember
Shinobu ever making the effort.
They piled into the car and both of them were squeezed into the tiny
back seat, his mother asking Shinobu what he would like for dinner and
Masato digging a surreptious elbow into his side, whispering about the
new games that he has waiting at home, and Mitsuru found that he had
to blink back unexpected tears.
=======================================================================
"Was it as bad as you thought it would be?"
They were lying side by side, covered by two layers of blankets to keep
out the cold. His mother had dragged out another futon for Shinobu and
when they had unrolled it after dinner and placed it next to his, they
had barely been enough floorspace left to walk to the door. It was
past midnight, Masato having snuck in and talked for a solid two hours,
during which Shinobu had discreetly and tactfully removed himself to
the corner and pulled out a book. By the time he had sent Masato off
to his own bed, vetoing his pleas to stay 'just for tonight' and they
had crawled beneath the covers, the lights had been turned off outside
and it was pitch dark.
"No, it wasn't." Mitsuru moved closer to Shinobu, reaching between the
layers of cloth to touch skin - Shinobu's arm. He felt the small flinch
under his fingers, the tiny movement away from him before it is
stilled. He let his hand remain there, kept the feather-light
contact. He could barely see the curve of Shinobu's face in the
darkness, just the subtle shine of skin and the glimmer where his eyes
might be.
"You were afraid that they wouldn't welcome you back." Shinobu's voice
was coolly detached, more unnerving than usual coming out the shadow
that was his face, but the arm under his shifted and grasped his arm,
the gleam of his eyes more piercing than before. "You shouldn't. They
always will, no matter how long you stay away, no matter how far away
from them you go."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything, just
moved even closer, lying almost in the seam between Shinobu's futon
and his.
Shinobu had always been able to see things that he couldn't. That he
didn't want to see.
=======================================================================
He didn't see much of Shinobu in the next few days, but the awareness
of him hovered around the edges of his mind while he spent, at
Shinobu's quiet encouragement, most of his time with Masato. Dawning on
him along the way, like a hangover can dawn on you with all the
subtlety of a brick, just how /much/ Masato looked up to him. Still
does. So he stands in the middle of the living room, uncomfortable but
quiet, while Masato invites his friends over and regales them with
stories about Ryoukurin he soaks up from Mitsuru at night.
It gets closer to Christmas, and his mother enlists his help in putting
up the small decorations - no tree, but plenty of wallspace they hang
with bright cards friends have sent, and, with a girlish, embarassed
giggle, some mistletoe a neighbour brought over. He tries not to think
too hard about the giggle, and the way she blushed, because foster son
or no, he's just never going to be able to go there without cringing.
So, in lieu of that, he thinks about Shinobu, standing not two feet
away fixing it above the door, and about where they are going instead.
The nights, after Masato had dragged himself out to seek his own bed,
when they lie for long moments in the dark before going to sleep, and
how Shinobu doesn't flinch anymore when he touches him. How last night,
he had fallen into the gap between their beds, lying on the ice-cold
tatami, and Shinobu had sat up, helped him back into his blankets with
an admonishment that he would catch cold again, and Shinobu wouldn't
be nursing him back to health this time, and then had moved closer of
his own accord.
Last night, he had gone to sleep with his hand tucked in the warm
hollow next to Shinobu's chin, his cool breath on the lids of his eyes.
He wonders, with a vicious little jab of fear, if their friendship
can die like this, lying between them in the dark, and if it is worth
it. If he can stop.
(Would you be there to welcome me back, too?)
Shinobu comes back, glances at him and untangles a string of lights
from the box. Contemplates the best way to string them across the
windows while he waits for Mitsuru to do the next one and join him.
Too late for that. He brought them to this stage too, this delicate
knife's edge their relationship hangs on, and every night he stops
just short of pushing them both over, tipping one side or the other.
Shinobu is standing back and letting him. Uncharacteristic of him,
really, but then, maybe he knows, just like Mitsuru is coming to
know, that the choice was made long before this.
It was right there in front of him all along.
=======================================================================
He sends Masato out earlier than usual tonight, then stalks over to
Shinobu, who looks up from the book at him calmly. Mitsuru plucks it
out of his hands, tosses it away, and kneels beside him.
"You," he announces solemnly, "are one of the most manipulative,
conniving bastards I have ever met." Jabs his finger into Shinobu's
chest to emphasize the point, and Shinobu, infuriatingly, just smiles
his cat's smile at him.
"Was I supposed to have to show you everything you were blind to? What
would be the point of that?"
"It might have saved me some sleepless nights. You could've at least
made things easier."
He looks at him for a moment, intently, then shakes his head. "No."
Mitsuru just starts laughing, helplessly. "Stupid," he chokes out,
between giggles.
Shinobu replies serenely, "Yes, you are."
Mitsuru leans forward and kisses him.
=======================================================================