Second Window
PigeonSimba
This was not how he imagined his homecoming.
Nezumi hunched on the couch in his hotel room and tried to figure out where he went wrong. He had expected tears when he showed up on Shion's doorstep. If not tears, then a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame, or for Shion to throw himself into his arms like the goofy airhead he was.
But their reunion had finally come and all Shion gave him was the slow parting of lips and a head tilt. Shion pepped up and grinned and gushed when Nezumi, so confident before the door opened, mumbled a greeting and a halfhearted joke, but Nezumi couldn't get Shion's initial reaction out of his head. Blank confusion. Utter incomprehension. None of his daydreams entertained that kind of reception.
I did it again, Nezumi realized with a sinking feeling. I projected my own perceptions onto Shion. That's how it went wrong last time. He thought he had grown, but he had acted like he was sixteen again, crafting his own reality of who Shion was, of what he thought Shion should be. But that was wrong. Shion was never what Nezumi thought him to be; he always managed to be more or less and never in between.
Perhaps his greatest error was that in all his imaginings of reunion, Shion was the boy he left. He forgot to account for the man he was now, and this man apparently didn't fall over himself when Nezumi showed up unannounced after seven long years of separation.
Nezumi groaned and rested his head in his hands. He had been foolish to think he could waltz into No. 6 and step back into his life there, complete with Shion's unreserved affections. That life was a shadow. Shion may have loved him then, but relationships were all about timing. Nezumi had forced them to spend years apart, during which anything could have happened, least of all a change of heart.
Nezumi laughed bitterly as a thought struck him: Shion had promised to keep his heart and home open to him, but it seemed Nezumi had missed his window.
Shion
Shion paced the kitchen floor, his microwave dinner cooled and forgotten on the counter behind him. Nezumi had been back a week now and Shion still didn't know how to act around him. He had spent so long in patience, he didn't know how to embrace that Nezumi was finally here.
I wish I could go back to being sixteen. I was more confident then. Recklessness and strength of emotion came naturally when he was young; time had taught him to hesitate.
Shion had never given up on Nezumi. Deep in his soul he believed reunion would come as promised, but when the years slipped by without a word and life crept in to fill the holes, the promise started to feel like the stars: ever present, inexplicably real and true and beautiful, but faraway.
Then suddenly, Nezumi appeared on his doorstep. He didn't know what to do when the embers of an old and cherished love flickered to life again after years of dormancy. He didn't know what to do with the flinch of withdrawal on Nezumi's face after he opened the door and held his gaze for the first time in seven years. Was I not what he expected? How can I bring us back to where we were?
Shion stopped pacing and shook his head. No, I don't want us to be where we were. He had grown up. Even if Nezumi saw someone different from what he remembered, this was who Shion was now, and he was proud of it. I want to know how Nezumi and I can move forward from here. Shion carded his fingers through his bangs as if he could dredge the answer to his dilemma from them.
His handheld vibrated against his leg and Shion jumped on the chance to escape his thoughts. It was a message from his mother, asking him to come help her finish a batch of cakes for opening tomorrow. It was a rare request from her, but not unheard of.
Shion threw on his coat and stalked past the forgotten microwave dinner to the door. It was a brief ride to Karan's bakery in Lost Town. Shion went around back to the house entrance and shucked his shoes off at the door.
"Mom?"
"Shion!" Shion rounded the corner to see his mother beaming at him. "There you are. I'm so glad you boys could help out on short notice."
Shion paused in the doorway, his dark eyes locking with the grey of Nezumi's.
Nezumi
Karan is craftier than I expected. Granted, Nezumi had known her less than a day before departing, but her face seemed too pleasant for scheming. Then again, I suppose Shion had to get it from somewhere.
Nezumi cast his dishcloth aside and watched Shion across the room. He was collecting the mixing bowls from the counters and dumping them in the sink. The flour on Shion's apron matched the white of his hair. Nezumi still remembered how soft it was, how Shion used lean into his hand when he reached to touch it.
Shion glanced up at him, and startled when their eyes met. Shion dropped his gaze and turned away to begin washing the dishes.
Karan had excused herself after they finished baking the cakes, leaving Shion and Nezumi to clean up and—Nezumi guessed—make up. But they weren't fighting. They weren't anything.
Nezumi sighed. Shion half turned at the sound. Working with the momentum, Nezumi plucked his dishcloth up and strode over to the sink. "You wash, I'll dry," he said, and took the freshly rinsed mixing bowl from Shion's hands.
Shion made like he was going to resist, but after a moment's thought he mumbled, "Okay. Thanks."
They worked in silence for a minute or two, feeling the space between them where words and actions once flew freely.
Nezumi placed the dried bowl on the counter. "You haven't asked me how my trip went." He tried to sound airy, but halfway through the sentence he feared it might've sounded insensitive. Maybe Shion didn't want to hear about his trip at all.
Shion paused, elbow deep in soapsuds, and turned his face to Nezumi. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I meant to, but there wasn't time before…." Shion bit his lower lip, but quickly traded the nervous tic for an easy smile. "Of course I want to hear about your trip. And I can catch you up on things here. Inukashi wants to see you."
"Really? Funny, I recall their last words to me being 'I hope you die in the desert.' But I guess the mutt had to grow up sometime."
"Inukashi has matured a lot. You two might even be able to hold a civil conversation now."
Shion grinned and Nezumi felt half choked by the lightness that filled his chest. His hands burned to touch Shion, but he curled them into fists at his sides when Shion ducked his head and returned to scrubbing in earnest.
Why? Nezumi stared mournfully at the red scar snaking its way up the side of Shion's neck. He had been terrified the night it bloomed across Shion's skin. After years of keeping a close eye on him, after fighting past No. 6's walls to safeguard him in his home, Elyurias had almost taken Shion from him while he could do nothing but watch.
He knew what Shion meant to him then, and he didn't want to lose him, even while he did everything in his power to push him away. And yet, foolishly—blessedly—Shion stayed by his side. So why did Shion retreat now, when he was finally ready to meet him halfway?
Maybe that's not enough. Maybe it's time for me to act like the fool. Nezumi felt the solution ripple through his chest like a starburst. Before he could second guess himself, Nezumi unfolded his fists and wrapped his arms around Shion's waist.
Shion
Shion's chest was so tight he could hardly breathe. His stomach burned where Nezumi's arms crossed it, and he realized that this was the first time Nezumi had hugged him. They had kissed, and fought, and sacrificed for each other, but they had never shared something as simple as a hug. It seemed so silly, so inconsequential, but he felt the burn in his stomach rise and spread up his neck until his vision blurred.
Shion dropped the spatula and sponge and clutched the lip of the sink to steady himself. Nezumi's grip loosened. He stuttered something halfway between concern and an apology.
Shion shook his head. "It's not you."He almost reached up to wipe his eyes before he remembered his hands were covered in soap. Shion wiped them on his apron and turned around.
He wanted to say something deep, something that would knit the self-conscious chasm between them, but face to face with the turmoil in Nezumi's soft grey eyes, Shion felt naked and small. "I'm sorry, Nezumi."
Nezumi flinched, the color rising in his cheeks. "Don't be. It's my mistake." He half turned his face and took a step back.
"No." Shion lurched forward and grabbed for him. He missed Nezumi's arm, but caught the edge of his apron. He tugged it with all the weight of his desperation, which turned out to be hard enough to send Nezumi stumbling forward into his chest.
Nezumi cursed and rubbed his forehead where his and Shion's heads had collided. His eyes flashed peevishly. "I got the message. You didn't have to head butt me."
"I didn't mean to do that." Shion ignored his own throbbing forehead and tightened his grip on the apron. Only then did Nezumi seem to register his nervousness and their proximity. The insult on his face gave way to a more quiet expression.
Shion wet his lips. "But I didn't mean I'm sorry as in, I'm sorry. I meant I'm sorry that I'm being awkward and weird."
"Oh." Nezumi's brow furrowed. "What?"
"I still want to be with you. I'm just a little rusty…"
Nezumi's eyes widened. He glanced down at Shion's hands fisted in his apron, then back at Shion's steadily darkening cheeks.
"Oh," he repeated with a laugh. "Thank god."
Shion's heart beat hummingbird fast. "So, you feel the same?"
"Do you think I just go around hugging people? I haven't changed that much." Nezumi shook his head. "Though I really hope you don't cry every time I hug you. That was both confusing and terrifying."
Shion let go of Nezumi's apron and gave him a tentative smile. "I can look forward to more hugs?"
"I'll do more than hug you, if you let me. But at this point I'm afraid of what'll happen if I do. My romantic overtures have been met with waterworks and head butts thus far. I'm used to more enthusiastic responses."
"Sorry about that. I promise to be less confusing in the future." Shion slipped his arms around Nezumi's waist instead. "Better?"
"Hm," Nezumi considered, trying and failing to keep the smile from his face. "Getting there."