tw: implied/referenced child abuse (it's only one sentence like, if you squint)

chapter i: it's only winter here

Dan sits, waiting at his designated gate as he falls into a rhythm he knows all too well.

Spending the past few years making trips around the world would make one accustomed to the ins and outs of the airport. Dan watches as planes make loops on the runway, gaining speed before taking flight. It's just a few minutes before nine in the morning. He stifles a yawn before adjusting his scarf and letting out a sigh in the air conditioned room.

Dan ponders on the fact that this will be one of his last flights, at least for a while. He's spent his time in London, Los Angeles, Dublin, Seoul, wherever else he found himself. It was time he'd come back home. Morning light pours in from the windows and warms his body, the heat seeping into his clothes providing a contrast to the cold February weather.

It's wintertime.

The last time he had been in Wardington was in the summer, six years ago.

Dan opens his small carry-on bag. The bag carried his valuables: identification, money, his passport, cellphone, laptop, the usual. A few other miscellaneous things could be found in his bag, including a weathered book he could never exactly bring himself to finish.

He brings out the book; it's a paperback copy of Nina LaCour's We Are Okay. The novel was given to Dan six years ago, by a person who he swears had stars in her brown eyes and the secrets of the world at her fingertips. He briefly wonders where that person is now; how is she faring? Does she still treat people with nothing but tenderness in her heart? Has the bitter reality of the world she lives in made her lose her kindness after all these years?

The book is worn; its cover wrinkled and the pages turning yellow. Dan flips open the cover and sees on the first page, written in faded black ink and neat handwriting:

To Dan,

I wish you more happiness than can fit in a person.

No matter which country Dan found himself in, he could never bring himself to fully finish the novel. Sitting in foreign parks, dimly lit hotel rooms, and airport cafes he brings the book with him, but never makes it to the latter chapters.

He never makes it to the latter chapters, even after six years. Never finds out the ending between Marin and Mabel, the ending of their lost summer romance and their attempt at reconnection in the winter.

Dan takes out the bookmark: a polaroid picture taken seven years prior. He holds the photo in his hand and examines it for what feels like the thousandth time. It's a picture he took and knows all too well.

A picture of his five friends, back facing him. A picture of his five friends at the beach, facing the sea, during a summer he would never forget.

If Dan closes his eyes and thinks hard enough, he can remember the smell of the ocean and the warm breeze on his skin. He remembers the late night conversations with his friends, the warm fire, and the way they bundled themselves up and slept in a cramped tent by the sea. Dan feels the pang in his chest, a longing for those times again, a longing to see those five people which he hasn't seen or heard from in years.

Dan ponders on the "what ifs"; what if he had reached out himself? What if he still kept in touch all these years?

What if they hadn't left things the way they did?

Dan will never forget the smiles on their faces, just as he will never forget the anguish written on them, and the the way he will never forgive himself for leaving things as they were. He's spent all his time in foreign places trying to find himself and make sense of it all but in reality he hasn't changed. It's been almost a decade and he hasn't changed. He's still every bit the Dan Kuso who graduated high school with only half of his friends by his side because he couldn't do enough to save the others. Still every bit the Daniel Kuso who was ready to face the world and at the same time, so scared of it.

He sighs and tucks the photo back in the book, before placing the novel inside his bag. Dan hears the stewardess announce his row to board, and so he gets onto his feet and walks through to the plane, giving the staff small smiles as he tries to make the best of his morning.

During the flight Dan distantly wonders if he'll see any of his old friends when he finds himself back in Wardington.

Dan spends his first few days in Wardington unpacking bags of luggage, setting up his one-bedroom apartment, and answering calls from his mother who insists he should move back with her and his father instead. The apartment is only ten minutes away from his workplace by drive; he's been hired as a graphic designer in a local rising company, the pay being more than adequate and work hours manageable. He's spoken to his higher ups once or thrice on the phone and from their calls, he's concluded that they won't be much of a pain in the ass to deal with.

He pours himself a glass of water in the sparsely decorated kitchen and turns to lay down on the couch. Rest had not come to easy to him in the past few nights. By day, he'd be busy with arranging his apartment and setting things in place, but when he lays on his bed alone his mind wanders and he finds that sleep was easier in a dingy hotel room overseas. He's in Wardington, he's home, and Dan knows for a fact that that was what made it so hard. All the memories of this place clung onto him like second skin. One would think that six years would be more than enough to erase the bitterness, but it only festered.

He wonders if they felt the same too.

Dan wonders if the old coffee shop downtown was still in business, wonders if the park where they spent their youth in still looked the same, wonders if the graffiti his friends left on the neighbourhood walls had faded overtime.

He sets the glass on the coffee table and reaches out for the old, weathered book that he never went anywhere without. He's reached the part where he always finds himself stopping at, something preventing him from going further in reading the book. He stops on a certain line every time, like clockwork. On the paper he reads:

When I think of all of us then, I see how we were in danger. Not because of the drinking or the sex of the hour of the night. But because we were so innocent and we didn't even know it. There's no way of getting it back. The confidence. The easy laughter. The sensation of having left home only for a little while. Of having a home to return to.

Dan puts the bookmark back in place and takes a gulp of of water. The afternoon light pours in through the apartment balcony, the oranges and yellows of the sunset painting his new home in colours. In those colours he remembers laying down in his childhood bedroom with his high school friends after a tiring day at school, the same sun on the horizon.

Dan starts his first official day at work the next morning, fresh-faced and with a tumbler of coffee that probably has too much creamer. His boss is the first to welcome him, a woman a few years his senior with chocolate brown hair and a smile that makes Dan feel at ease.

"Daniel Kuso, right? I'm Maia, your boss. We've spoken to each other over the phone," she says, reaching out her hand for a handshake. "I believe you've received the email regarding your tasks and work here. I assume you've read them?"

Dan shakes Maia's hand and gives her a smile. "I'm happy to be here. I've read the email."

"Great! I assume you'll start working on the first task emailed to you, and I'd love to see progress by the end of the week. If you have any questions, feel free to ask Mina over here." Maia gestures over to a petite, black-haired girl about two inches smaller than Dan. Mina gives Dan a wave and a small smile, which he returns.

It's later that day when he sees Mina again, the girl accompanied by a few of their coworkers. "We usually go out for drinks whenever there's a new recruit," she explains. "And since you're the new recruit, we can't go without you, of course."

And maybe it's just the alcohol in Dan's system, but he swears he saw a familiar head of light blue hair slouched over a bottle or two of soju that evening.

After two weeks, Dan eventually falls into a new rhythm.

Spending the past six years globetrotting was definitely different from the everyday workplace environment he's now found himself in, and so he's pleasantly surprised at how quickly he's adapted to it. Spending late mornings and afternoons at work, winding down in the evenings, with a schedule that could even allow him to work from home if needed be. His coworkers are friendly and always willing to cooperate, and his boss approves of almost everything he submits to her. On most days, he finds himself working with Mina and her team.

It's late afternoon on a Friday and Dan is at the office again, working on designs alongside Mina and an intern, Rafe. Dan finds Rafe to be a serious, no-nonsense person, three years younger his junior. Rafe's eyebrows furrow and he runs a hand through his hair before setting down his pen and letting out a sigh.

"I can't figure this out, I think my mind is going to explode any second now if I have to go through this any longer today," says Rafe, turning to look at Mina. "I think I'll head home now, Mina, if you don't mind?"

"Please, Rafe, go home. I've been watching you for the past twenty minutes and I feel like you're going to collapse any second now," Mina pats Rafe's shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. "You're in your final year of university and interning for us. Take it easy tonight. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Rafe nods and mumbles a "thank you" before packing his things and bidding his goodbyes.

"You're awfully nice to Rafe." Dan says a few minutes after Rafe heads out the door.

Mina shrugs. "I know what it's like to be in his shoes far too well. He's in his final year of university, top of his class, and interning for us here with the pay being at the minimum. Might as well make it easier for him."

His respect for Mina only grows at that; Dan gives her a smile and goes back to his work. He feels Mina's gaze lingering on him, and if he turns his head he might have seen the calculating way she surveyed him.

"Are you doing anything next Friday?"

Dan shifts his eyes away from his computer screen to Mina, her hand propping up her head as she looked at him. "No, why?"

"I was thinking," Mina pauses. "There's a small restaurant that opened recently and I wanted to check it out."

Dan turns his chair to fully face Mina, all his attention diverted to her. "What, like a date?"

Mina smirks at that. "Well, if you want to call it that."

Dan hasn't had a date in a year. Hasn't had sex in almost that long. His last relationship had been with a guy back when he was working in Seoul, thousands of miles away.

Mina's nice. Friendly, cooperative, kind. She's pretty, too, Dan has that noted since his first day. They've known each other for at least two weeks now, went out for drinks once, had lunch together thrice.

Dan grins. "Then let's call it that. Seven in the evening next week? I'll drive."

"Sounds great. Meet me in front of the flower shop two blocks from here?"

"Deal."

Within the week that followed Dan feels a slight thrum of excitement fill his veins for the first time since he's arrived back in Wardington. That Friday he arrives at his apartment by five, taking a shower and carefully picking out his clothes before heading out.

He parks his car and checks his watch, the LED telling him that it's six-thirty in the evening. Dan's eyes drift to the flower shop, and the next thing he knows is that he's climbing out of the car and into the store.

It's a date, isn't it? Might as well buy Mina a flower or two.

Dan steps into the store and a memory creeps into his mind. A memory of a certain silver-haired girl who loved flowers, knew their names, knew their meanings. He remembers how the girl weaved crowns and braided the hair of a grumpy dark-haired boy who swore he hated it. The same grumpy dark-haired boy who sat down let her do what she pleased with his long hair, who smiled at her when she put flowers in them.

Chrysanthemums, petunias, roses, lilies, carnations...Dan vaguely remembers their meanings, scanning over the colourful bouquets on display.

Dan holds the pink carnation in his hand, and remembers the one he was given seven years prior. He remembers how he kept a flower for the first time in his bedroom, how the petals looked like in the morning sun and in the afternoon light.

"Pink carnations mean gratitude and divinity," she hands one flower each to her friends. "I hope I'll never forget you, and you won't forget me."

He also remembers how time took its toll on the delicate thing, how the petals slowly wilted and lost its colour. For the first time in his life, Dan pressed flowers into journals. She replaced the flowers each time one died. Dan found the pink carnation to be a constant in his bedroom all those years ago, until she stopped giving them, and his room never smelled of fresh flowers again.

Dan certainly could never forget her. He, however, hopes that she has forgotten him. Behind the sweetness was nothing but a bitter, bitter taste.

He settles for a classic red rose and walks to the counter, placing the flower down and reaching for his wallet. Dan is about to take out his money when he meets the scrutinising gaze of the florist, a sandy brown haired boy with grey eyes. His name tag reads the name: "Joe".

Where have I heard that name before?

Dan clears his throat and motions to the flower. "I'll take this, please."

A small smile graces the boy's - Joe's - face. He examines the flower before naming the price. Just as Joe is about to hand Dan the change, "He doesn't talk about you a lot, you know."

Dan must have a look of confusion on his face, as Joe adds, "Choji Marukura. Though you might know him as Marucho."

"H-How-"

"Joe Brown. We all went to the same high school together," You and your ragtag friends. "Sorry if I scared you there, Dan. But yeah, Marucho hardly talks about you. Refuses to. I wish he did, though. I feel like it's slowly eating him inside out."

Dan feels dazed. What he had hoped to be a nice night out with Mina had turned into this, whatever this was. His old schoolmate suddenly popping into his life again, telling him one of his high school best friends refuses to even speak his name, when he's buying flowers of all things. That's certainly a surefire way to make someone feel like shit.

Dan remembers that blond boy, a year younger than him, almost a head smaller, and far too smart for his age. Remembers his blue eyes, always ever filled with curiosity and wonder. Remembers how he knew every bit of how the world worked, but was always so afraid to actually meet it. Remembers the bruises at the back of the boy's neck, and his attempts at trying to hide it underneath the collared school uniforms.

Dan also remembers Joe Brown being a smart kid back in school. But goddamn, he swears that Joe Brown isn't being smart at that moment.

"My change, please." Dan's voice comes out cold, harsher than he intended. Joe's eyes slightly widen at the change in Dan's tone, and hands out his change immediately. He puts the money in his wallet then takes the rose.

Before Dan can walk out the door, he turns to Joe. "The next time you see Marucho Marukura, tell him I said hello."

A slight breeze blows as Dan exits the shop, the cold February weather unrelenting. He keeps the flower close and checks his watch - it's only a few minutes to seven, and Mina should be arriving any minute. Dan spends the next moments sitting on the bench by the sidewalk, looking up to the starless skies of Wardington.

The stars were more visible by the seaside.

By the seaside.

By the beach, all those years ago.

Dan's mind wanders to the book he almost never went anywhere without. Omitting the book tonight, he settles for remembering the certain words that clung onto his mind:

We were miraculous. We are beach creatures. We had treasures in our pockets and each other on our skin.

And though that character, Marin, certainly meant that in a romantic sense to her then-lover, Mabel, Dan couldn't help but relate her words to him and his friends. Friends? Ex-friends? He didn't really know anymore. But judging from the way Marucho doesn't even want to talk about him, maybe it's safe to conclude it's the latter.

Dan turns his eyes away from the skies to look front, where he heard his name being called. He sees Mina on the other side of the road, waving to him with a smile on her face. She's dressed in a warm turtleneck dress, a knitted scarf wrapped around her, and a sling bag hanging from her shoulders, entirely different from the office clothes he saw her in today.

Dan finds her lovely.

He stands from his place at the bench, eager to greet her. Mina looks up at him with smile that reaches her eyes. "Hey."

"Hey to you, too." Dan beams at her and hands Mina the rose. Her eyes widen and she carefully takes it from his hands.

"For me?" She takes a sniff of the flower. "Never thought you'd be much of the romantic."

Dan gives her a sheepish look. "It comes from years of experiencing less than spectacular dates, I suppose."

Her eyebrows perk in curiosity. "Well, you can tell me all about it on our way there, and over dinner."

Dan recounts his multiple, hilariously failed dates over the years: the one time the guy had misunderstood his text and came up an hour late, the time he paid the waiter to spill his drink on him to get him out of there, and the latest horrendous tale when his date had bought him a box of hair dye because she didn't like how his hair colour looked like on his Tinder profile picture.

With Dan behind the wheel, Mina leads him towards a quaintly designed restaurant downtown; they exchange stories and laugh over the hilarity of most of them.

"I got home and fire alarm is blaring. And of course I thought the worst, so I worried that my roommate, Sana, might've gotten burned," Mina says, digging into the appetiser. "But then I walked into the kitchen and see her panicking and unscathed, turns out she set it off trying to cook ramen like a fucking madman. To this day I still have no idea how she did it."

Dan nearly chokes on his drink at that.

As minutes pass by Dan finds himself enjoying Mina's company more and more. The girl is charming and funny, clearly cares a lot about her friends, and has her priorities laid out. He admires her for it.

The evening goes smoothly.

For the most part, that is.

Until Mina takes a few bites of the main course and a few minutes later, her throat closes up.

Turns out the dish has shrimp in it, to which Mina is highly allergic to.

Dan watches as Mina takes in laboured breaths in an attempt to steady her breathing, grasping onto his sleeve as she tries to explain what's going on. Much to her relief, Dan understands immediately and they leave the premises after quickly splitting the bill.

That's how they ended up in the emergency room that night.

Dan lets out a sigh as he slumps into his chair outside the doctor's office. Another failed date, he muses. But it's not entirely Mina's fault. She couldn't have known. Maybe I can take her out on another date next time.

He fiddles with his fingers and tugs on the strings of the hoodie he brought out from his car. As Dan sits in the waiting area, he's reminded of how much he hates hospitals. His disdain from them started a little over a decade ago; seeing the white walls of the same hospital where Dan saw his best friend lose his mother in his arms made him feel rather sick.

Sometimes he can still hear the flat line of the heart monitor, the shrill cries of his friend as he weeped for his dead mother, and the doctor pronouncing Shiori Kazami dead. That black-haired boy had lost so much that day, and it had taken months to get him to talk to Dan again.

"You've reached the Kazami household. We are unable to attend to your call at this moment. Please leave a message at the dial tone."

"Uh, yeah, Shun? This is Dan. It's been months since we've talked. I hope you're doing okay. I-I know you're feeling down, so if you're up to it, you can always talk to me," Dan took a deep breath. "Please return my calls. I miss you."

Shiori Kazami died in the spring that year. Dan Kuso received a call from her son in the following winter.

Dan found himself wrapped in blankets in his bed as he held Shun close, as the latter cried and let himself feel vulnerable in his best friend's embrace. Shun clung onto the sleeves of Dan's sweater as snow came down in sheets outside the window. "I miss her," he muttered between sobs. "Sometimes I see her in my dreams and when I wake up, she's gone. She's gone and I can't sleep. All I think about is her, how much I want her here."

He lets out a sigh and idly scrolls on his phone, wishing for the doctor to be done with their treatment on Mina. He promised her he'd drop her off at home, and while Dan very much intends to keep it, the dread he feels inside the hospital was slowly becoming unbearable.

He hears footsteps emerge from the other end of the hallway before coming to an abrupt stop. Dan turns his head to the person's direction, only to be faced with their startled gaze.

"Dan."

Dan slowly rises to his feet. "Alice."

He's met with an unmistakable shade of orange hair, with the same brown eyes he last saw years ago. Time is in her favour, as Alice Gehabich is still as beautiful as she was in high school. She blinks in disbelief as she meets Dan halfway, her steps small but sure.

"Never thought I'd see you again so soon," says Alice after a few moments of silence.

Dan lets out a huff. "I thought you went back to Russia, you know, after the whole thing."

Right. The thing.

Alice's gaze turns to her feet. "Yeah, the thing. We never really did talk about what happened, huh?" she takes a deep breath. "I took up nursing when I was in Moscow then returned here. It felt like the right thing to do. Still does."

"Are you happy here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Working here is fine, definitely an experience," she raises her eyes to meet Dan's, and he notes that she's still smaller than he is. A smile forms on her face. "Feels like the right thing to do. I think I've always wanted to help people, make them feel better. There's nothing I like better than seeing smiles on their faces."

Dan holds her gaze and he realises that Alice hasn't changed. Much like him, she's still the same person she was all those years ago.

"I went globetrotting for a while, figured out my time was done there, then came back here. Landed a date and she got an allergic reaction. That's why I'm here."

Alice lets out a genuine laugh, one that Dan definitely hasn't heard in a while. "You make it sound like they're allergic to you."

"We both know I wasn't so lucky in the romance department back in high school. Still am unlucky."

Alice shakes her head, then sighs. "Is it too late to say that I miss this, that I miss you and everyone else?"

Dan finds himself speechless for a moment. The Alice he remembers was always careful with her words, always biding her time, some would even say spoke in riddles. Now he suddenly sees her direct, her words unwavering, and the fire behind her eyes is brighter.

He thought she hadn't changed, but it seems like it was only him.

"No," Dan says after clearing his throat. "I miss all of it everyday."

Alice nods. "I work the graveyard shift tonight. Is it okay if we swap numbers and meet up for a coffee soon?"

"That sounds more than okay."

Mina continuously apologises to Dan on the way home, even after Dan constantly tells her that It's okay, we'll just go on a second one. Hopefully one that doesn't include shrimp.

Dan still feels a little ruffled after running into Alice earlier, his grip on the steering wheel alternating from lax to incredibly tight. He takes in deep breaths and that's when Mina puts a hand on his shoulder. "Is everything okay, Dan?"

He lets out a breath. "I feel like I just saw a ghost," he says. "But it's nothing you should worry about."

"God, I hope not. I'm shit when it comes to horror movies and that kind of stuff."

A smirk finds itself on Dan's face. "Oh? Maybe we should watch a horror movie on our next date then."

An astonished look forms on Mina's face as she lightly slaps Dan's arm. "You wouldn't!"

Dan smiles at her, then shrugs before taking a left turn.

That night, Dan is about to drift off to sleep when his phone buzzes.

alice (00:01): julie was checked into the hospital a week ago
alice (00:02): she refuses to talk to me

welcome to my dumpster fire of a fic. reviews and feedback are appreciated.

connect with me on tumblr: milahtalas. fic is also cross-posted on ao3.