There was one thing that Shion found himself fully grateful of the entire walk back. Over the bridge, under the streetlamps, past the yards full of snowmen and sagging snowball forts—with the frigid wind blowing a constant stream of flakes into his face, there was absolutely no way to determine the blush on his face from that of the cold, or from inward feelings. Just the very thought made him skip from a rosy tone, to one that rivaled the very colour of his irises. In fact, just the thought of blushing over the matter was enough to make him flush even more. Was there heat coming off of his face? Could Nezumi feel it? He was almost positive that the boy could, because there was no way that such blazing heat could be contained solely to himself. Just to check, a quick peek, he cast his eyes sideways, looking up to find Nezumi's own. He felt relief course throughout him shortly, before those sharp grey eyes darted to meet his own.
"You don't have a fever do you?" Nezumi asked, frowning. Though he sounded concerned, he still held somewhat of a resentful tone in his voice, as if the last thing he needed was for Shion to become sick on him. Something about hearing that tone elated Shion. It truly was as if every memory he had experienced with Nezumi in the past, every bit of time spent idly goofing around in the boy's home, had been revived alike a phoenix from its own charred ashes.
"W-who's the one that threw snow at me?" the white-haired boy chided back. As they passed under the bright light of a streetlamp, he couldn't resist turning away, pretending to stare thoughtlessly at several particularly long icicles hanging from a nearby roof, further hiding his mad blush.
Nezumi seemed to catch onto his ploy, however. "Ah, but who tried to throw snowballs straight back at me now?" His eyes were trained on Shion's white locks now, but the boy defiantly refused to look back at him.
It fell quiet between the two once more. Still hand in hand, they followed the stretch of sidewalk in pure silence. Though Shion's mind was very much wrapped up in the embrace, both overjoyed and terribly embarrassed for it, his thoughts were starting to wander homeward more and more. There were just two more turns of the road before they'd be on his street. Several doors down, they'd be standing just outside of the shop. Past the door, they'd be inside his home. Where his mother was… there was no way that he could possibly forget that notch of detail. He couldn't help but wonder how his mother would react to Nezumi suddenly popping into her home, late into the night. The last time the grey-eyed boy paid them a visit, things had not exactly gone in their favor. Well, the entire situation that followed afterwards was eventually beneficial all around, Shion thought—but the boy's presence had set quite a crazy stream of events into order. By that basis, his mother could be very wary of Nezumi, fearful that he may pull Shion into still more tricky business… yet on the other hand, Nezumi was also the reason Shion was still alive today.
Without realizing it, Shion was gripping Nezumi's fingers very tightly.
Onto their street, arched shadows crisscrossed their path where light tore through the surrounding buildings. Many of the streetlamps that lined their sidewalk stood tall and lifeless, allowing the moonlight full control across the landscape. Each gap between every building, every waver in the landscape, sent brilliant golden beams that caressed their cheeks. Though resentful to the teasing boy, Shion could not resist another glance up at the Nezumi. This time Nezumi did not return his gaze. Staring forward, the faintest of smiles upon his lips, the grey-eyed boy gave Shion no more cause for embarrassment. He merely held the white-haired boy's hand, as steady as the snowfall about them. Somewhere Shion knew that Nezumi knew that he was staring at him—yet he couldn't care less. The way the light framed his face was gorgeous. The way the shadows engulfed him when buildings stole the moonlight was gratifying. Though freezing cold, damp with the snow, Shion wished that he could remain caught in the moment for hours after. He was almost disappointed to find themselves before his front door, where he finally was forced to tear his eyes from the gravitating sight.
"This is it?" Nezumi asked. He was taking in the glass door, his face wiped clear of all emotion. Was he nervous?
Shion nodded. "Yeah," he said. "We live just behind it."
Without further pause, Shion unlocked the door. Keeping a firm grip on Nezumi's hand, he replaced the key into his pocket and pulled open the door very slowly. No matter how slowly he inched inside, however, the bells just inside the inner frame jangled noisily, as if he had barged in full steam. Quickly, he tugged Nezumi in behind him. The door was shut tight a second after, leaving them to stand inside the dark entrance of the bakery.
Nezumi remained perfectly silent as Shion peered around carefully, all senses on the alert for his mother. He felt like some sort of criminal, sneaking the boy inside as if he were a stolen good, but he really did not want to run into his mother at this time. And what time was it exactly? A quick look at the clock said after midnight. Of course, the clock was also rather slow, Shion recalled, which meant that it was even later. Wonderful.
When no sounds escaped the quiet house, Shion uttered a sigh of relief. His mother must be sleeping—or at least he hoped that she was. Karan always had this knack about her of knowing exactly where Shion was in the house. On many occasions, she'd burst in at very inopportune moments, perhaps following that sense. All he had to do was slip up to the bathroom and get some towels to dry off. Once they were both dried off, hopefully Shion could find some clothes that fit Nezumi, and he'd be able to sleep comfortable. He'd explain things to Karan in the morning.
They were heading through the hallway, just past the living room. The coast looked clear for the—
"Shion, what are you doing?"
In the subtleness that Karan spoke from behind him, Shion quickly let go of Nezumi's hand and spun around. There, standing at the edge of the hallway, a cup of hot coffee in one hand, stood his mother, eyeing him with tired eyes. She didn't seem angry, really. Perhaps extensively irritated, curious, and distrustful, but anger seemed to at least be far from his mother's tone.
"Ah, m-mom. We—I mean I… uh… This is Nezumi." He quickly pointed towards the dark-haired boy, fumbling for a proper explanation.
It was probably the most offhand introduction that he could have said; it was almost as if he were just stating simply that the sky was blue. Nezumi quirked his eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by the greeting. Even Karan was put off by it. She was looking back and forth between her son and the dark haired boy beside him, perhaps wondering why her boy was so flustered.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Nezumi said, smoothing over the mess. He held out a hand to shake Karan's, a smile slapped clear across his face. Something about that smile seemed a little over the top to Shion.
But where the smile fell short with suspicion from Shion, Karan welcomed it with a grin of her own. She held out her free hand, accepting the boy's shake. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'd like to personally thank you for keeping my son safe," she said. There was true, serious gratitude within her voice. Against all disapproval of a practical stranger appearing insider her house during the late hours of the night, his mother's warm nature was beginning to burst from the depths of her irritation, fueled by thankfulness. Soon, Karan was commenting on the temperature of Nezumi's hands—their damp, chilly state. She quickly instructed Shion to fetch towels for them while she slipped back into the kitchen to heat up some more hot water. There was a distinct click of pots from the kitchen a second later while Shion took Nezumi down the hall.
"Your mother seems nice," Nezumi said. He stood out in the hallway while Shion dug through the closet, trying to find some fresh towels. The task was not as easy as Shion had assumed it would be, however. It was hard to find a single towel under all of the bundled, untruly sheets and dishrags. Ever since Shion had come home carrying little Safu, they just hadn't had the time to sort these small things.
Shion finally found one and threw it in Nezumi's direction, still deeply excavating the closet's contents. "She is nice," he said in reply.
Nezumi made an irritable sound, muffled by what Shion could only guess was his towel.
"Gotcha!" Shion exclaimed as he finally found a second towel. He pulled it out from the depths of the closet, digging his way out like a large albino mole, before stuffing the contents of the closet back in haphazardly.
Towel in hand, Shion led Nezumi back into his room. "What, no dinner first?" the grey-eyed boy asked as he shut the door behind them.
Shion frowned quizzically, addled at the boy's words. Nezumi's expression mimicked Shion's shortly, before he burst into deep bouts of laughter. Shion really didn't get it. He stripped off his sopping wet coat and hurled it at the cackling boy. The gesture quickly stifled Nezumi's glee. His expression mutinous now, the dark-haired boy made a point of casting his own damp clothes into the most disorderly pile that he could manage.
Soon a pile of wet clothes had gathered by Shion's door- after the white-haired boy made a point to go around scooping up Nezumi's, that is. They had both stripped down completely to their shorts. Nezumi sat on the edge of Shion's bed, watching with a curious grin as Shion now raided his dresser for clothes. He had plenty of clothes, but finding some that would fit to Nezumi's height was a bit difficult. It was even more difficult with Nezumi's eyes constantly on him. Shion had the sneaking suspicion that his eyes were tracing all across the scar that marred his body. The thought made him shiver self-consciously. Was this a shirt that was too big for him? He tossed it in Nezumi's direction.
"You still have a terrible taste in clothing," Nezumi said, looking over the striped shirt.
Shion threw a pair of pants at the boy in reply. He was beginning to run out of things to throw at Nezumi tonight.
Aside all complaints, Nezumi slipped on the clothes that Shion offered him. Finally all dry, a towel across his shoulders for his still damp hair to drape over, he sat aside on Shion's bed. He watched the white-haired boy dress with a raised eyebrow, rubbing at his scalp with the corner of his towel. For reasons that Shion himself couldn't quite explain, he was keeping far away from Nezumi. Unable to approach the bed, he was left hopping up and down ungracefully, attempting to pull on a pair of pants.
"There's tea ready out in the living room," Shion's mother suddenly said, opening the door without so much as a knock. Shion gave a startled cry, falling sideways onto the rug, one hand still clutching at his pants leg. "Oh, be careful," his mother said, concerned.
Nezumi laughed. "Thank you, we'll be right there," he said sweetly to Karan.
Once Shion was dressed, the two wandered back out into the living room. Karan sat on the sofa, a tray before her on the table with a couple of hot mugs and several small pastries. When they entered, she scooted aside, giving them room to sit. She passed them each a mug, smiling sweetly all the while.
Shion sat between his mother and Nezumi, eyeing both while he sipped his tea lightly. He still wasn't completely convinced that things were going to go over smoothly. Something in Nezumi's light, carefree tone screamed acting to Shion. With memories of Nezumi singing upon a stage, playing the part of a woman, the white-haired boy didn't find that out of the question.
But what perhaps startled Shion most was the gusto with which Nezumi ate the pastries. Though pacing himself and acting somewhat polite, there was a definite surge of energy in the boy's hands as he reached out for each new one. There was little to no pause between each bite that he took. Three pastries in, he seemed to practically force his hand away from the desserts. It was only with Karan's insistence that he have some more that he took yet another from the plate. Had Nezumi been eating well while he was gone?
Karan seemed to have similar suspicions. "My, if you're really that hungry, I could whip you up something better to eat," she said.
Nezumi was quick to refuse, shaking his head. "No, I'm fine. Thank you." Even if Nezumi was hungry, there was no way that he would have Karan cooking for him in the middle of the night, Shion supposed. Nezumi was already intruding as it was.
Shion had expected a long, drawn out conversation between them, questions fired left and right—but was surprised when Karan made no such assaults. Rather than hounding truths out of the two boys, Karan sat quietly observing them, seeming much more concerned than brash. And tired. While she must be curious, Shion's mother was definitely very tired.
"I need to get some sleep," she finally said, scooping up her mug. "The baby caused a bit of a fuss while you were gone—wore me out." She yawned, rubbing her eyes as she took her cup over to the sink.
Nezumi turned quickly towards Shion, eyes wide in surprise. "Baby?" He nearly demanded an answer.