home where the heart is
The first night is always the hardest...
The first night on Andromeda, they're inconsolable. Tired and stressed from the long rough journey, they sit in a small room made smaller by stacks of boxes and scream, their throats raw and their faces red and wet.
This isn't their home. There are weird lights on the walls, and there are more lights outside making every tall city skyscraper too bright. It's cold too—they don't even have their pajamas on because they don't know which box is which. This futon isn't theirs either. They don't know where it came from, but the mattress is uncomfortable, the pillows are too thin, and the pattern on the blanket is ugly.
This isn't their home. It's all wrong.
Their father sits on a box next to them, a tired expression on his old face. No doubt he would want nothing more than for them to go to sleep already so he could do the same.
He sits quietly, sighing heavily from time to time as their sobs slowly, slowly go from loud wails to breathless hiccups. When they've finally quieted down enough, he says, "It'll be okay. You'll grow to like it here."
They don't want to like it here. They want to go home.
"In three years, you'll like it so much, you won't want to leave!"
Lies. They want to leave now.
"I know it's different, but try to calm down. Tomorrow we can go around the city together. Meet the neighbors, see the sights…buy some Andromedan candy?"
They don't want candy. They don't care about the neighbors. The city was too bright and obnoxious.
"I'm sure a city like this has something even more fun than Binan Land!"
The mention of their favorite place only makes the yells resume, and their father groan and run a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Haruhiko, Akihiko, that's enough," he doesn't raise his voice, but his tone is sharper, colder, "It's been a long day for all of us. You're just overtired from the trip. Come on, lie down—lie down, I said." He holds out the blanket for them, and stares—waits for them to understand that glaring hatefully at him won't accomplish anything, and once they finally lie down, he secures the blanket around them, and gives each one a quick pat on the head.
"The first night is always the hardest," their father says. It sounds out of character for him, but he continues, "Tomorrow will be better. You'll see." He puts his hands on his knees and pushes himself off the box. "Good night you two." He closes the door behind him.
If Aki were an only child, he thinks that would have been it. His head is heavy, and his eyes struggle to stay open. He thinks he would have cried himself out and fell asleep eventually, only because he wants nothing more than to close his eyes and pretend he's back home in Binan and this is all a bad dream.
But Aki isn't an only child, and Haru is still shaking and whimpering into his pillow, so Aki sits up and rubs his brother's shoulder, all the while fighting his own resurfacing tears.
"I want to go home," Haru cries, "I want to go home to Earth and live with Maximum Gorar."
"Me too," Aki whispers, and lets his tears fall as he continues to rub Haru's shoulder. He thinks he remembers how they got here. He thinks it wouldn't be too hard to find their way back. But he's not stupid and knows they can't do it, and that makes the tears hard to stop. He pulls away from Haru to rub at his eyes, but the moment he does, Haru catches his wrist.
"Your hand is warm," he mutters, "I'm cold."
"He could have at least packed our pajamas somewhere close," Aki replies, "Dad doesn't care at all."
"He doesn't," Haru agrees, not letting go of Aki's hand.
"He hates us, I'm sure of it," Aki says and slides under the blanket again Somewhere along the way, Haru's grip slackens and his hand slips into Aki's. "But, he's right. We should sleep."
"I can't. I hate this room. And this futon."
"I don't like it either," Aki says, but despite that, he yawns and his eyelids droop and no matter how lumpy and cold it is, he has no strength to do anything about it, "Your hand is warm too."
Aki doesn't remember if Haru says anything else, because suddenly he's waking up—in this unfamiliar room full of weird lights and boxes. It wasn't a dream and he feels tears welling up, and an urge to scream. But he doesn't, because as he tries to pull himself into a ball, he realizes his hand is still holding Haru's and despite the tear streaks, Haru's sleeping face is peaceful.
Their father is a liar. Aki and Haru know it all along—it doesn't sink in until three years turns to ten (and counting)—but them growing to like Andromeda was another lie. They grow to hate it.
He was right about one thing though—the first night was the hardest. They still cry the next few nights—and then some more once the bullying starts—but they are as never as hysterical as that first night. The boxes slowly disappear, they have their own futons again, and all in all, the too-wrong house comes to be acknowledged as home. They still hate it and the meters on its walls, but it becomes a comfort to return to their little room and watch Maximum Gorar on TV. It becomes a comfort to be surrounded by their Earth toys—many of which they quickly outgrow but don't dare throw out and lose their only other connection to Earth.
They don't realize how much they come to think of that too-wrong house as home, until they suddenly find themselves in an unfamiliar little hotel room, overlooking an unfamiliar little town, on an unfamiliar little planet, not too far from Andromeda.
The hotel room is nice. It is clean and has two big soft beds (clearly designed for species bigger than humans) and all the highly advanced technology one would expect to have on hand for a comfortable stay.
They like the hotel room. It's exciting to be away from home. It feels grown up to have to travel for work. It feels so satisfying that after all those lessons and small jobs, their names are finally known and liked enough for them to have a regular part on a TV Show! It's nothing big yet—just a small-budget edutainment travel show (and sadly they will only travel to nearby planets of which Earth is not). It isn't particularly interesting but it's different from their past work, and not only because they get to leave Andromeda for the first time.
Their father approves without any fuss, and they are on the first ship out of Andromeda the following morning with Dadacha happily chattering about their plans. It is a day of travel, interviews and sightseeing, preparing for the next day's filming. It's only an overnight trip this time, over the weekend—later they imagine they'll be away for longer and have to miss more school—but even so, it's exciting.
Or it was until night falls and the big soft beds are suddenly too vast and empty, even with Haru ultimately deciding to climb into Aki's.
There is that wrong feeling again. The one that makes their chests hurt and tears threaten to spring into their eyes too easily. But they're eleven now, and idols at that. Idols don't cry. It is this mantra that keeps the tears at bay, but they still don't sleep. Haru tries but he tosses and turns and ultimately gives up, following Aki's lead in bringing his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them dejectedly.
He wonders how their dad is. They rarely see him these days anyway, but not seeing him on another planet feels different—worse. He wonders if he misses them too.
Probably not.
"We could call him," Aki suggests. Haru looks and follows his brother's gaze to a sleek black phone on the nightstand.
"He won't pick up."
"You don't know that."
"You don't either," Haru snaps, louder than intended, and harshly enough to make Aki turn away from the phone.
"Haru you always give up without even trying."
"So call and prove me wrong. You never do anything if you think I'm right." He yells, his voice breaking the stillness of the room. Aki glares at him for a moment, but then turns to the window and scoots his body away slightly. It barely adds any distance, but the gesture is enough to make Haru feel lonelier. Worse still is the faint muffled sniffle he knows he hears beside him.
"Is everything alright?" Before Haru can say anything else, a third voice speaks, a curious concerned tone. Dadacha is suddenly on the foot of the bed looking up at them, cautiously stepping closer. As he approaches and reads the misery on their faces, he breaks into a run, suddenly more frantic.
"W-what happened?" he sputters waving his paws wildly, "Are you hurt?" He jumps on Haru's knees and reaches for his pajama sleeve, but Haru moves his arm away, covering his face with it instead.
"M'fine," his voice squeaks and he knows he only one push away from bursting into tears. He won't cry though. Idols don't cry. Idols can do anything.
"I-Is there something wrong with the room?" Dadacha tries meekly, "If something's missing, I'll call the front desk and get it for you. Anything you need!"
They don't need anything.
"H-hey come on, please tell me what's wrong. We had fun today didn't we? You two were all smiles through dinner—don't tell me something you ate made you sick."
"No," Aki answers, but now that Dadacha mentions it, there is an uncomfortable pit in Haru's stomach and for a moment he wonders if he really will be sick. The thought is enough to finally loosen the floodgates and the first tears trickle down his cheeks and fall on the blankets. He jerks his knees closer, sending Dadacha tumbling down to the bed, and presses his face against them in a vain effort to stop the tears. Dadacha pats his leg.
"I want to go home," he whimpers. If he's going to be sick, then he wants to be sick at home, in their own room, with their dad…well, not exactly nearby, but on the same planet at least.
His admission makes Aki cry freely as well. He doesn't sob but vainly tries to control his sniffles with his pajama sleeve. It's embarrassing and gross, especially with Dadacha standing right there alarmed, but they can't stop. It's that first night on Andromeda all over again, only it's worse because they're the ones who wanted to come here and film the stupid show they don't even like. And it's worse because he knows this is only the first trip, and he knows they'll all be like this.
Dadacha squeezes between them and pats their ankles with the back of his paws. He says comforting words as well, but they're not heard and the muted sniffling continues, despite his best efforts. He stops at some point and gives their pant legs one last tug before scampering off. Haru watches him run into the bathroom and shut the door.
He gave up… Haru feels hollow.
Some time passes, and he grows convinced he doesn't have food poisoning, though he still feels gross and miserable. He wants to go home, to the green meters and the too bright cityscape. It's too dark outside, and the room is too big and impersonal.
He doesn't care about filming or idols or Earth. He just wants to go home.
"Haru don't cry," Aki whispers softly and starts rubbing his shoulder, "This is just like before, right? The first night is always the hardest. Dad lies a lot, but he was right about that."
"That's right, that's right!" the bathroom door opens, and Dadacha reemerges a new squirrel, suddenly cheery and enthusiastic. He jumps back onto the bed, on Aki's knees this time. "It's your first night away. It's okay to be upset and miss home."
Hearing that from him doesn't make Haru feel better, because Dadacha rarely says anything smart. But he sounds so sure of his words that Haru can't help but listen.
"It'll get easier after this. You'll have lots of work and have to travel a lot, but you'll always have each other and you'll always have me! And then soon, you'll get to go to Earth and meet Maximum Gorar. You have to show him how much bigger and stronger you are!"
The words are magic. That's right. Growing up big and strong means not crying just because they're away from home. They learned not to cry being away from Earth, so they can learn not to cry being away from Andromeda.
Aki's hand squeezes Haru's in conviction. Dadacha smiles gently.
"Now then, you two should lie down and—no wait, she said to offer warm milk first," he half-mutters the last part to himself, but before they can ask, he looks at them brightly and says, "Do you want some warm milk? I'll order it. Or maybe some tea if you don't like milk?"
It's late and they really should be asleep already. They don't need Dadacha's coddling. They tell themselves this but still nod meekly at the offer. Not tea, because caffeine before bed is bad according to their dad, but milk is okay. Dadacha is elated when he places the order on the dumbwaiter, typing quickly, his tail wagging wildly. While he types, they wash their faces. The cold water stings their eyes, but they do feel cleaner afterwards, and they emerge from the bathroom just as Dadacha finishes setting up the two glasses of milk on the small table in the room and beckons them over.
It's weird to be drinking milk like this, with their manager alternating between cheerful and comforting. They can tell he's afraid they'll cry again, but their eyes are dry now. And heavy. They finish the milk and stagger back to the bed, even without his insistence. To their surprise though, he follows them, settling in the nook of their intertwined hands. His fur is warm.
"What are you doing?" Haru asks tiredly.
"I'll sleep here tonight," he declares happily, "So you two aren't lonely."
"We're not lonely," Aki is affronted, but though it would be easy to fling him to the other bed, he doesn't.
Haru mutters something about squishing him, but they wake up with him still comfortably spread out between their hands.
They are in the unfamiliar little hotel room and their heads feel a little heavy, but all they can think about is their upcoming filming session, eager.
Traveling doesn't get easier. It isn't long before they're away from home for weeks at a time, mainly going back to take exams, and the constant jump from hotel room to hotel room and spaceship to spaceship takes its toll. They grow to hate touring the galaxy quickly enough as well.
But nights do get easier. They don't miss their house or their dad, and are often too exhausted to even think about it. Despite this, Dadacha continues the nighttime ritual of warm milk and curling up between them (when there's only one bed anyway) on the first night of any new check-in, even after their tear ducts long dry up, and the coddling becomes more grating than comforting. Dadacha is a nuisance—treating them like children even as their voices break and their shoulders broaden into a perch for him. But even at his most annoying, no one can match him in sincerity, so they go along with it.
They never once miss it once their hotel hopping comes to an end.
The VEPP Theater is crumbling and downtrodden when they buy it. The engine roars and shorts out, the stage is unpolished and splintered, and the seats hide under blankets of dust. The first night is a night of buyer's regret as Dadacha paces on the balcony crunching numbers, all the repairs that much be made, all the permits that must be obtained.
The theater is his idea—it's not a bad one, though Aki and Haru would have chosen the ship themselves if they knew what Dadacha had in mind. Their rooms aren't ready so they spend the first night on the stage, lying on twin beds and staring up the balconies and ropes above them. They're not homesick this time—just annoyed. And grossed out at this hideous building Dadacha calls their new home. And wary at all the money needed for restoration.
They're still awake when Dadacha finally comes back down, and watch him carefully even as he tries to stay out of their sight.
"Go on," Aki urges, "How much will it cost?"
"W-well you see, it's important to consider that I'm overestimating some expenses and—
"That's not what we're asking," Haru snaps, "Spit it out already."
He doesn't spit it out. He just holds out the index card containing his calculations with flat ears. Aki reads it and groans before passing it to Haru.
"And? Remind me again why this was a better idea than buying a brand new ship?"
"Because they don't make puppies like this anymore!" It's surreal to hear a flying squirrel call a decaying a theater a puppy, but they don't press that point. "When we remodel it according to these specs it'll be just as good as the top of the line models!"
"And twice as expensive too," Haru pinches the bridge of his nose, "Seriously annoying."
"I'm sorry."
"What's done is done," Aki says, "Just remember that we'll no longer have to ride public transport or stay at dingy hotels."
"Or book theaters," Dadacha adds, "That's important too!"
They're a lot better at looking to the future now. Every upset used to be the end of the world but now they can look ahead and see their goals. So they know that Dadacha is right and they just need to be patient. The first night is hard, but as construction commences, and the auditorium slowly transforms into a hall worthy of housing the VEPPer, the theater becomes their home. There is never an issue of being in a strange unfamiliar place because at the end of the day they always return to the theater, where warm milk is replaced by home cooked meals.
The cost they put into the theater is easily returned twofold. Homesickness and travel stress become a thing of the past.
When it's all three of them at home, that is.
"He was what? Not even a foot tall," Haru remarks, "And it's not even the first time he's been away."
They set up futons on the stage that night. It's a whim, really. It feels nice to lie side by side and stare up at the ceiling.
"All those other times we knew he'd be back within the week," Aki says, "This time is different."
"Don't say it like he won't come back."
"Earth isn't his home," Aki remarks. They chose to make it theirs. It sinks in how far away Earth actually from the galaxy they knew, how even when they're home, they're far from home. They don't blame Dadacha for wanting to leave. They won't do to him what their father did to them.
"He'll be back," Haru insists anyway, "You'll see."
"Maybe for visits," Aki doesn't like it either, but he's practical. He also knows that they can't complain. They chose this. And with their beloved idol living across the pathway and remembering who they are, they would choose it again. Their return to Earth feels like they never left. It's easy to be surrounded by humans again and not see those meters anywhere.
But with Dadacha gone, the theater feels all wrong.
"Think he misses us?"
"Of course," Aki doesn't hesitate for a moment, "I'm sure he's having just as rough a time tonight."
"Yeah," Haru agrees.
Silence. Then in a low voice, Haru asks, "Hey, do we have any milk in the fridge?"
"No," Aki knows what he is thinking, "but the convenience store is open."
They miss him. They want him to come back. They want to start up the theater's engines and fly after him.
The squirrel shaped hole in their home won't disappear so easily. But after the first night, maybe they won't feel tears prick their eyes when they remember he's gone.
A/N: (He comes back. I choose to believe he comes back.)
Thanks for reading!
...for once I don't really have much to say about any of this. This was mainly me trying out something new and testing the waters a bit here and there (and also shamelessly indulging myself with a story where Dadacha comforts the chibi twins when they're upset). I still love the relationship between the VEPPer trio, and I hope I was able to get some of the twins' distinct personality traits across this time too.
As always, feedback is very loved and appreciated!