THE BOTH OF US
Ryoma shifted in front of the doorbell, his throat growing dry. He swallowed, trying to suppress the urge to run away. He knew that the penthouse inside would offer him a home, a life, a school, and an older brother, but he didn't wantany of those things. He only wanted his cat, his friends from Seigaku, and his parents.
Karupin poked his head out from his bag. He meowed softly.
"Hey, Karu." Ryoma patted the kitten. He eyed the door again. He really didn't want to go in. He didn't even look good right now. His eyes were heavy from no sleep, and his hair was a mess on top of his head. He felt like he hadn't gotten any food in his stomach in ages, and his frail frame showed the consequences.
Then there were his friends. Ryoma's cell phone beeped. He scrolled through.
Have you arrived safely?– Tezuka
Hey, Echizen, have fun in Los Angelos! Go gambling! Get girls! –Momo
We miss you already, Ochibi! – Kikumaru.
Ryoma snorted. He wasn't old enough to gamble, and he wasn't interested in girls at the moment. His eyes shadowed over. Tears clung under his lashes, and he wiped a hand over them. The goal was to notthink about his parents or that he had to leave behind people he could finally call his friends. The goal was to…adjust.
He wiped a sweaty hand on his shorts. He wasn't sure if he could.
He reached for the doorknob, then pulled back. He didn't want to do this. He couldn't.How was any of this fair? He barely knew Ryoga.
Ryoma's eyes scoped the long corridor of the apartment. It was a really nice apartment – expensive, and luxurious. Almost like a nice hotel. It wouldn't have been a problem living here, if it was temporary. That was the key word: temporary.But this was all too permanent. He would be alone, with a man he barely knew, with the ache of his parents' death still fresh in his heart.
The door clicked, sliding open a crack.
Ryoma felt his blood run cool. Should he just go in? Was that a welcome?
He shook his head, tried to clear up his jumbled thoughts, and took a step inside. "Uh, it's…Ryoma," he said. He hated the way his voice sounded, (so small, so broken) but he couldn't dwell on it when he saw the penthouse. It was a niceplace. It was clean and new. The centerpiece was shiny with a bowl of fake fruit in the middle. The curtains on the window were a silhouette of light, and even from his distance, Ryoma could see the grand overview of the city. It would be nice living here, if it weren't for his circumstances.
He heard ungraceful footsteps come from the bathroom door. "Hold on," a voice said. "I'll be out in two seconds."
A moment later, Ryoma heard a loud curse, before the door flew open and a man walked out.
Ryoma took an unsteady step backwards. So this was Echizen Ryoga, his older brother, seven years later. He had changed.
His was tall, and broad-shouldered. His skin glowed from a vibrant summer tan. His hair and eyes were the same as Ryoma's, although Ryoma had a feeling Ryoga's eyes were on the lighter side. Fuller, and more whole. He wore only a towel around his waist, and seemed to be in the process of shaving.
They stared at each other awkwardly.
"Welcome," Ryoga finally said. His voice was smooth, and friendly. "Uh, I guess…you can make yourself at home."
That really didn't help. Ryoma pulled his suitcase in, then stood in place. He didn't know what to do. His brother just stared at him, looking kind of funny with white cream still smeared on his chin. After a moment, Ryoga excused himself, went back into the bathroom, and came back fully clothed. He spun keys in his finger.
"I'm going to go out." He shifted. "And, uh, nice cat."
Ryoma felt a stab in his chest. So, Ryoga would leave him by himself the first minute they met. That was actually fine with him. He didn't even know this guy.
"My room?" Ryoma finally asked.
"I only have one room," Ryoga scratched the back of his neck. "We have to share a bed. But I have…erm…girls over sometimes. There's a fold out bed for that, alright?"
Ryoma lifted a brow. "My stuff?"
"Leave it in the room," he said. He jabbed a thumb to the bathroom. "Shower's in there." It moved far back. "Balcony's over there."
There was another pause.
"You good?"
Was he good? Ryoma wanted to knock Ryoga on the head. He barely knew him, the guy hadn't even bothered to talk to him aside from the necessary details, and was planning on leaving him alone for the night. Ryoma wasn't good.He just wished he could be back home in Japan, where his old shrine overlooked a thicket of cherry blossoms. Where his father hummed over stupid magazines and his mother cooked breakfast at the stove. Where his friendswere, his tennis was, and his life was.
"I'm good," Ryoma said without blinking.
"My number's on the fridge. Call me if you need anything."
And then, like a desperate spider trying to crawl away before it got swatted, Ryoga swooped out of the door and shut it behind him.
Ryoma was left alone. The electricity lines hummed. The city looked magnificent from the window, wide and far in a long stretch of buildings.
His life, currently, was crap.
Ryoma dropped his bags with a thump. He sat down, almost numbly on the couch. And then, with as much dignity as he could, he started to cry. He buried his face in the pillow, hoping the wetness would dry out by the time Ryoga would come back. Shoulders shaking, he let a stream of tears soak through the fabric.
Why did his life have to be turned upside down? Couldn't his mom and dad just nothave been in a stupid accident?
Why did he have to stay with Ryoga? The guy was practically a stranger to him.
Karupin crawled onto the couch, prodding his nose into Ryoma's stomach. When the only response he got was Ryoma crying harder, the kitten nuzzled itself into the crook of Ryoma's neck. His fluffy tail tickled Ryoma's nape. At least he had his freaking cat. Telling himself to stop being stupid, Ryoma sat up and held Karupin close to him.
"I don't even know where the tennis courts are," he whispered to Karupin. "Isn't that just a disaster?"
Karupin snuggled into Ryoma's lap. His meow was the equivalent of a careless yawn.
His cell phone rang.
Ryoma picked it up. "Hello?" he hated the fact that his voice was scratchy from crying. "Momo-senpai?"
His insides filled with warmth at the familiar voice. "Yo, Echizen? How's Los Angelos? Wait…were you crying?"
Damn it. "No."
"Oh, okay, it just…it sounded like…you know what, Nevermind. So, how is it?"
He gulped back a threatening sob. "It's big."
"Are there tennis courts?"
"I don't know. Probably. I haven't seen them yet."
"What? You resisted?" Momo feigned shock.
"I just got here."
"Still. Man, remember to play tennis lots, okay? Or I'll beat you when we play a match."
Ryoma felt the edges of a cheeky smirk crawl onto his face. "As if.Momo-senpai sucks."
"I'm your senpai, Echizen," Momo attempted to sound serious. "You can't treat me like that, you just can't."
"I just did, though," Ryoma said. "The only move you have is the dunk smash."
"What? No. I have the jack knife too!"
"Momo-senpai, just admit you aren't better than your kouhai."
"I will be!" Momo said desperately.
Ryoma felt the glow of a smile on his face as he finished assuring Momo that he was fine and great and hung up. He felt a lot better after talking to his friend. Stroking Karupin's fur, Ryoma was suddenly aware that he was painfully hungry. He'd barely ate on the plane, and he'd been too sick with fear to eat anything afterwards.
He ambled over to the fridge.
When he opened it, he felt the curves of his first, realsmile spread to his cheeks.
In the bottom row, after all the meats and vegetables and an unusually large amount of oranges, was a neat row filled with cans and cans of Ponta.
So they had something in common after all.
.
He spent the remains of the day drinking Ponta and watching TV with Karupin. It was really lonely, and he felt even lonelier with the darkness blinking outside the window. He tried to think positive. At least he wasn't making awkward conversations with a brother he wished he didn't have. At least there was Ponta.
At about ten, he heard the front door open. He craned his neck back to see Ryoga walk in. He was holding a bottle of beer.
"Hey," Ryoga said. "You find it okay?"
"Yeah." Ryoma curled up into the couch.
Ryoga capped the beer and tossed it in the trash. He shuffled around the kitchen a bit, before he sat down across from Ryoma with an orange. There more awkwardness. Ryoma focused on the lamp above Ryoga's head, trying not to make eye contact. His brother slurped away on his orange. It was faintly disturbing to see how he sucked the juice out, like a vampire sucking the blood of a human.
Ryoma watched him intently.
"So." Ryoga shifted. "You sleepy?"
Yes."Not really."
Another thundering silence.
"Look." Ryoga sat up and leaned in. "I have no rules. You can do whatever the fuck you want. Go outside, spend some money, eat my food."
Ryoma stared at his thick brows. "Okay."
"But don't get in my way, alright?" Ryoga sounded uncomfortably pissed off, if that was a feeling. "I'm not going to take care of you or something, if that's what you expect. You live here, I live here, but I'm not…your guardian or whatever." He munched on his orange, stretching his long legs out on the other couch. "Just so you know."
Ryoma didn't expecthim to take care of him, but he hated how harsh his brother was being. It made him feel like he was just getting in his way. Maybe he should have ran off into the countryside and lived alone illegally.
"I can take care of myself," Ryoma finally said.
Ryoga snorted. "You're twelve. Like hell. But you can learn."
"You don't need to be such an ass about it."
The words came out on impulse, and Ryoma bit his tongue. Damn. The last thing he needed was to agitate the person who was giving him a place to live. It wasn't his fault, though. He wasn't used to being shoved down, like he wasn't important. He wasn't used to being treated so carelessly.
But Ryoga looked amused. "Ah, well. I needed to get things across."
"No." His pride and sensibility battled each other. His pride won. "I wasn't going to bother you anyway. It's not like I want to be here."
Ryoga's face turned colder. "I don't want you here either."
Great. They had another thing in common.
They sat in thick tension for another minute. Ryoga stood up, yawning. "I'm going to go sleep." He didn't ask if Ryoma was sleeping on the couch or not, but when the bedroom door shut and locked behind him, Ryoma knew he was spending the night on the couch. He shivered, but didn't want to ask for a blanket.
The ceiling was dark. The shadows of the house were foreign. Wind slipped in through the open crack of the window.
He hatedeverything.
Everything.
He wanted to be back in Japan. He just wanted his parents back.
Ryoma's eyes burned, the familiar sting of tears clinging to his eyes. He squeezed them shut, rolling on the couch. He remembered his mom's face – the warm flame that kept the house running. Her tousled morning hair, the smile she reserved only for him. Then he remembered his father – the silly old man that had taught him the most precious thing in his life, the tennis he treasured so dear to his chest.
Ryoma felt tears run down his face. He lay there and cried silently.
The bedroom door clicked open.
"Here," Ryoga said.
A blanket was tossed over his face, before the door shut again.
"Thanks," Ryoma said, but his voice was thick from tears. He didn't think he would get any sleep tonight. Karupin crawled onto his chest, burying himself into Ryoma's warmth. His cat only made him want to cry more. He wrapped his arms around Karupin. At least he had his kitten. He didn't know what he would do without him.
The only piece of his old life that was honestly left.
.
Ryoma woke up to sunlight in his face. He winced, and sat up.
Ryoga was humming by the breakfast table, spreading butter on toast. He looked so cheerful, friendly. It was weird how cold he had been the night before. Ryoma sat there and watched him wash his hands, sit down, and take a bite out of his bread. He watched Ryoga chew, then gulp on orange juice.
Ryoga caught him looking. "You hungry?"
"Um…" Ryoma slipped off of the couch. He took out his bathroom supplies and headed in. "I'm going to go brush and take a shower."
"Okay." Ryoga shrugged. "I'm going out again. You can make yourself anything you want."
I'm going out again.Ryoma resisted the urge to slam the door shut. He didn't particularly like his company, but what was he supposed to do the whole day? Sit and watch television with his cat for the rest of his life? How lame.When Ryoma was freshly dressed, he came in to see the house empty.
He decided to have Ponta and the sushi-mix Kawamura had given him before he left. It wasn't an ideal breakfast, but it tasted good.
"Sushi for breakfast?"
Ryoma jumped. Ryoga grinned at him.
So he hadbeen in the house.
"I thought you were leaving." Ryoma willed himself not to sound bitter.
"I am, but I needed to make a few calls first." Ryoga arched his brow. "All my Ponta is pretty much gone. Did you…"
Ryoma looked down at his lap. "Uh…"
"You drank it allin onenight?" He looked impressed.
Ryoma eyed him as he slid into the chair across from him, resting his chin on his hands, elbows propped up on the table. So they were talking now? Ryoma thought they were supposed to act all cold and unfriendly. That's how Ryoga had been acting the night before. He suddenly seemed too warm.
Ryoma slanted his eyes in suspicion. "I thought you were leaving."
"In a minute. Geez. I feel like you want me out of the house or something."
"I feel like youwanted to get out of the house yesterday, and changed your mind."
Ryoga looked guilty. "Okay, you caught me. But it's not my fault. I'm always out of the house." He paused. "I don't mean to brag, but I have a lot of friends."
Lucky him. Ryoma didn't care for the quantity of friends he had, but he did feel a bit jealous that Ryoga got to stay here with everyone he knew, while his friends were all the way across the world. Couldn't Ryoga have been forced to come to Japan instead? He brightened at the vision. That would have been perfect.
"Look." Ryoga exhaled. "Can I ask you something?"
Ryoma tensed. "Yeah?"
"What were mom and dad like?"
The question felt like it pierced right through his chest, into his heart, stabbing at his soul. Theirparents? Who was he to call them mom and dad? He wasn't even around. He'd only been there a couple of years. Bastard. Ryoma grinded his teeth together, feeling a swell of anger at his brother. And that was why he'd been acting so nice. So he could get answers.
"I don't know." Ryoma's voice was slick as ice. "Maybe you should have stayed to find out."
Ryoga stared at the fake fruit. "I just want to know."
Too bad,Ryoma's heart squeezed. He didn't want to talk about his parents. They were gone, dead. He hadn't thought about it at all this morning. Why did he have to bring it up again?
Ryoga cleared his throat. "Did they die in a car accident, or what?"
Shut up. Shut up.
Ryoma's fingers curled around his Ponta, shaking. His glare burned into Ryoga's face.
"Can you just leave?"
"This is my apartment room," Ryoga said calmly. "And I just asked a few questions."
Insensitive asshole.
"And I don't want to answer your questions."
They stared at each other, and for the first time since he'd came, Ryoma hesitantly met his eyes. He hated how familiar the gold, sharp eyes were to his own. His own were rounder, bigger, while Ryoga's were narrower, but they were still the same boiling colour. He hated that. He didn't want anything to do with Ryoga.
"You're kind of short, you know," Ryoga finally said. "Like a chibi."
"I'm twelve," Ryoma snapped.
"Yeah, but still." Ryoga tapped his fingers on the table. The house was silent, apart from the tapping. Ryoma tried to eat the remains of his breakfast, but felt oddly self-conscious. After a long moment, Ryoga jumped to his feet and headed for the door. Finally,Ryoma thought as he watched Ryoga slip on his shoes and open the door.
"Alright, I'm leaving." Ryoga turned to close the door, but before he did, he looked over his shoulder. "See you later, Chibisuke." And then he was gone.
Ryoma choked on his Ponta.
Chibisuke?
How dareRyoga give him a nickname.