First advice
Fandom: Monster
Words: 1093
Characters: Dieter, Tenma Kenzo
Warnings: Spoilers for the manga, up till volume 18
At age forty-eight, Tenma Kenzo was still the prudish doctor he had met years ago, all kind and goofy grin.
Eva once told him 'that rueful smile was his daily defense mechanism', covering up any sentiment he might have shown like a poorly applied make-up, lest he be asked. 'And you should've drawn Kenzo's eyebrows all droopy, because that way the doodle might actually look like him.' She had paused to fish out another cigarette from her purse and light it up without skipping a beat, blowing another series of smoke to Dieter's face. 'Just a tiny bit, though.'
Dieter noticed his scent first, the memorable tang of disinfectant, sporting a half-ragged gray suit (big surprise: the peanuts they gave away for salary at the MSF couldn't afford him to buy a decent outfit), his hair was much shorter than the last time the boy remembered, but it was the lines on the doctor's face that had him concerned.
Back then, with the assassination plan at his gears, Tenma had always looked wary and worn. Like a scalpel drawn, that's how Dieter would describe the man in his darkest days. He couldn't ignore Tenma's comment on how he had grown past him and already stood a head taller than the doctor. There was a hint of secret pride in his eyes, and Dieter bashfully ducked his head when Tenma said he must be quite the head-turner at school.
Dr. Reichwein had said the exact same thing to him years ago, when he finally hit his growth spurt and towered over the plump therapist in less than a year, and it made him bristle with unspoken joy.
The surgeon just smiled at him, fondly and choking full of unspoken love that was ready for his patients and treasured ones, and asked Dieter if he'd like some sugar in his coffee.
If you had lived for years, all of your life experiences are chiseled on your face, Dieter once heard the saying – he couldn't remember when or who said it – and saw the proof on Tenma's facade. Years of medical practice and wagering between life and death has etched deeply in his eyes. There were two lines around his mouth now – the smiling lines - that was more visible since his last visit. In all practicality, Dieter thought it was impossible, but seeing Tenma's aging face brought him back to one thought. Time didn't wait on people, and its effect was visible on everything.
He stopped bringing the soccer ball everywhere right before high school, the skin was all peeled off and tattered, the white turning to muddy brown and black turning to none—but he kept it still in his closet, unlike all of his other toys and childish possessions. He lacked the practice to become a professional, burying his adolescent dream along with Tenma's first gift, but Dieter knew the other path he chose would be even better.
"I'm afraid I didn't really keep in touch with the World Cup news," Tenma laughed, and Dieter noticed the man's blatant honesty, never concealing the truth enough to protect himself.
"You missed all the fun. Everyone was parading down the road all night and—" He was ready to mash out the massive details of the latest world cup, ready to narrate the story of the festivities all day long if he had to, but then snapped back to a proper tone when he remembered why he had come to the old apartment in the first place. "Anyway, you don't have all day to hear me rant."
"It's all the rave back in Japan," the doctor's voice was of fond recollection and amusement, "my nephew and I stayed up night after night to watch the match. He actually cried when Japan lost. We stopped watching after that."
"I thought you're not going to come back." Dieter accused, half wanting the man to stop or even choke on his coffee.
"I heard you're going to med school," Tenma replied, giving his coffee a sip – black, not his favorite, but one of his requirements. He smiled to the boy from across the coffee table, amidst the underlying tang of anesthetics. Dieter stirred his coffee and wondered if Tenma had pulled out the set on his last minute – it smelled faintly of soap, but there was a sheet of dust from under the cup.
Returning the man's grin, Dieter shrugged. "Thought I'd give it a try after hanging up my shoes."
And Tenma Kenzo smiled, despite Dieter's expectations. "I almost went back for good once," Tenma whispered this time, "but I realized it wasn't my home. You'd make a good one—doctor, that is. Much better than me, Dieter. I've always been told that I was not a team player."
"You did the right thing," the boy murmured again, this time a mixture of grief and bliss, and Dieter remembered the line as Nina's words after the man had stepped out of Johan's operation room for the second time, shedding off the genius surgeon's persona, a crumbling mess of a human in Nina's arms. The doctor in front of him stopped for a moment, lost in his own memories of the unforgettable day. "And you'll choose what's best by yourself. That's what you told me."
"I also told you not to follow me, Dieter. That you can't." the corners of Tenma's lips curve up into an all-too-familiar smile, "You didn't obey that one."
"Weeeell," the boy smirked, "I was still holding on to your first advice."
When they left his apartment together, Tenma picked up the ball Dieter had somehow weasel out of his closet just for today's visit, and they both laughed when Tenma's kick made the ball landed on the pile of garbage.
Many of his patients had considered Tenma their best friend; a family even, after their limbo between life and death in his operation table, but Tenma had done even better than that for him. What baffled Dieter to no end until this day was the question if Tenma ever felt that way for those people. He had known the man almost half of his lifetime and barely heard him mention about his real family back in Japan.
He was already too big, too tall to hold on the doctor's hand now, but he supposed it's all right for him to follow in the footsteps. Then Tenma slung one arm over his wiry shoulder and pulled him closer, and as Dieter caught their reflection on the café's window, he couldn't tell where his family started and ended.
end