There's a mouse in the shower. It's halfheartedly pawing at the drain, probably having recently chased something down there.
Nezumi's not even surprised.
Naked, tired, and having surpassed all caring, he turns on the water without even blinking. The mouse scurries out of the shower with impressive speed. Good.
Inukashi still made them pay for the shitty room—half price because it was 'half their fault the dog was lost in the first place'. Nezumi could have killed him, but then who would take care of the dog? He better have gotten in that garbage truck for a reason. He and Shion split the cost, and Nezumi steals the shower. It consoles him somewhat.
He rests his forehead against the decrepit tile, shivering. The water is freezing. He's not sure what he was expecting; nothing really seems to have gone according to plan today. He soaps up his hair with some expensive shampoo he borrowed, with no intention of returning, from the school dressing room.
His hair, at least, will look impeccable. Even if the rest of his life refuses to follow suit.
Nezumi sighs deeply, grabbing a bar of soap jammed awkwardly in the corner of the shower. It smells like dog and he tries not to think too hard about that. He lathers it on with ease, leaning back into the downpour.
The skin on his back throbs dully when it comes in contact with the water. He fights the natural impulse to jerk away and rinses off the rest of his body. The scar is old now, the occasional jolt of pain is rare but easily managed—Nezumi attempts to ignore it. There's nothing that could have been done.
There's no one to hate. The rage of his youth, the ferocity in which he pursued directionless vengeance, and all his soul-searching in high school— it all culminated in that one answer.There was no one he could hate for what happened without hating absolutely everyone, including himself. But he can't forget.
He thinks of Gran and feels like a child again, spending endless hours in between massive, dusty bookshelves to avoid listening to another rage-driven story. Everything about her is so vivid; images pierce his skull in sharp bursts: her straw-textured gray hair and wrinkled skin, her rare smiles, her cold eyes. He reaches to brush the tears away from her cheek in the middle of the night but his hands are too small, too weak, too fumbling to reach her face.
He tries so hard not to remember, but she made sure he'd never forget.
Nezumi mentally repeats every monologue he's ever memorized and then runs through his day moment-by-moment to distract himself from the memories digging into his brain. They pool behind his eyes, soak into in his chest, and burn his throat.
He isn't in that house anymore. He refuses to be.
He thinks of Shion, and the field they watched the sunset in. He thinks of that awful beanie and questionably-purple eyes and the damn GPS. He thinks of Inukashi and the stupid dog, and tries to piece together a loose image of what the visiting kid would look like in his head. He thinks of Shion again, sitting on the hotel bed probably waiting for him to get out of the shower.
He breathes in, and breathes out. He shivers and feels the cool water and it's so cold but that means he didn't burn. It's only sleep deprivation, making him feel so small again. Nezumi knows this.
He's okay, slowly. He carries on.
When Nezumi's satisfied he no longer smells like fish, rotten cabbage, or any sick combination of the two, he steps out of the shower. He dries off, slipping on some underwear and a pajama shirt— pants optional at this point. He attempts to shake his hair dry and throws open the door.
"I'll tell her, I know, you're right…"
Shion has his beanie off. He's facing away from the bathroom door, on the phone. Nezumi can't see his face but he can see his hair— pure white and reflecting the moonlight that slips through the open curtains. For a moment Nezumi's struck by how stunning Shion looks—almost otherworldly. Nezumi only sees him in silhouette, but the light shines around his hair forming a halo of sorts. He swallows and almost says something stupid and complementary, but Shion shuts the curtains and the moonlight immediately stops working its magic. Nezumi once again falls back into harsh, frizzy, reality.
Shion's hair, although lovely, is practically pasted to the top of his head with sweat. The sides, which, Nezumi guesses, are supposed to hang loosely are instead glued firmly to his cheeks. He has countless random fly-aways that stick up at odd, unnatural angles, showing exactly which direction he pulled to get the beanie of his head. That's what travelling in a tight hat for a day straight will do to you. He looks terrible.
Shion presses his phone closer to his ear, still not noticing Nezumi standing at the bathroom door. "I— I was planning to I just— …yes, thank you. I'm okay."
His hand moves from the curtains to run through his mess of hat-hair. He musses it up as best he can, succeeding in getting rid of some of its flatness. It awkwardly sticks to his fingers in a losing combo of static and sweat. He wipes his hand on his pants. Nezumi can easily imagine the face he's making: a combination of disgust and exhaustion.
The color really is incredible though. Nezumi can't help but wonder what it looks like dry and without interference.
"Thank you Mom. I love you too." Shion's voice is sweet, but dripping with stress.
He rubs his forehead, turning around— Nezumi assumes— to rest his back against the wall. He freezes mid-turn, staring at Nezumi as if he's just been caught smuggling some sort of illicit substance. His eyes immediately flick to his beanie, sitting on the rickety dresser. His thumb slides across the touch screen on his phone automatically, hanging up. He sets the phone down, quickly reaching for his hat.
"Are you really going to put it back on? It's a little pointless now, isn't it?"
Shion's hand falls. "That is true."
"Hey, it's fine." Nezumi does his best to smile, but Shion's clearly avoiding his gaze and that bothers him more than he'd like. He clears his throat loudly, and Shion looks up. "Look, I won't ask why alright? You clearly don't want to talk about it."
Shion scratches his head, blinking. "Oh no, it's not that. I was planning on warning you. Before you saw, you know." He motions to his hair, looking nervously at Nezumi's chest. "I don't sleep in the hat after all. I just…" He trails off.
"Just what?"
Shion quickly looks back out toward the window, brow furrowed. He wrings his hands. "I just was really hoping to explain it when I was more awake and you were -"
"Then wait to tell me. No one's forcing you to talk about your hair, jeez. How obsessed do you think I am?" Nezumi laughs a little, walking past him to check out the bed. He watches Shion, or more accurately, Shion's hair out of the corner of his eye. It practically glows. He sits on the mattress, it's pretty hard, but comfortable enough. He bounces on it once curiously.
Shion's staring at him. Nezumi lays down, not bothering to pull up the covers. "Don't explain for my sake, if you don't feel like it. Do go shower though, you reek."
Shion doesn't move. Nezumi looks at him. "What is it?"
"I didn't expect you to say that." Shion scratches his neck. "I thought this would…"
"Matter to me? Change something? I'm curious, but I doubt it changes anything." Nezumi shuts his eyes and hears Shion cough into his sleeve. Nezumi is content to sleep, and Shion doesn't try to speak again. He curls up and starts to nod off, assuming Shion left to shower.
"Nezumi?" Shion's voice startles him awake. Nezumi groans, burying his face in his pillow.
"What now?"
"We're sharing the bed aren't we?" Nezumi looks up at him, Shion's gaze is steady and unapologetic. He's holding a pair of stupid ass matchy-matchy blue pajamas close to his chest. He still smells like fish.
"Yes. Don't start acting bashful now, we agreed to this at the first hotel, it saves money."
"It's not that." Shion clears his throat, but doesn't make any moves to say anything. He only stares at the edge of the bed.
"Spit it out, or shower Shion! Or do you need some tips on your personal hair-care routine? Let me fuckin' sleep!" Nezumi snaps.
"Could you please put on some pants?"
Nezumi blinks. Tries to read Shion's face- surprisingly blank for such a ridiculous question. He's probably joking. Probably.
"What, afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me?" Nezumi teases slightly, lying back down. He can't believe Shion woke him up for this.
Shion quickly turns to face the bathroom. His hand goes to his hair and he scratches it awkwardly. "I have better self control than that."
His ears are red and Nezumi really wishes he didn't notice that.
Shion's chuckle is forced and uncomfortable. "I am going to shower now."
Rushing into the bathroom with alarming speed, Shion loudly shuts bathroom door behind him. Nezumi stares at it, denying the blush slowly forming on his own cheeks. He stands up and grabs a pair of pajama pants. He slips them on and curls up on his half of the bed.
It probably meant nothing.
It makes it hard to sleep anyway.