Hi.

It's been months yeah? Sorry about that. I've been trying to keep posting stuff so you'd know I'm still around but I've been super intimidated about writing this fic. You've all been very kind to me and so so patient about the slowing updates, but the sheer number of you reading has started to overwhelm me. Not that I want you guys to leave lol, It's just made me very anxious about doing a good job. I read other amazing fics with vaguely similar themes and I get worried that people will think that I've copied them, even if my story is older. I start thinking 'Why bother when this person has done such a good job of it' and I know that's not how writing works, but anxiety can't always be reasoned with.

Thanks for the patience 3

Warning: Underage Drinking.

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"[Central Nervous System] depression begins soon after exposure, lasting for up to 12 hours after ingestion. This depression appears similar to ethanol intoxication, but without the characteristic odor of alcohol. Initially, the inebriation, euphoria, slurred speech, sleepiness, and so forth are due to the unmetabolized ethylene glycol./i

iAfter the glycoaldehyde forms (at 4-12 hours) and metabolic acidosis begins, CNS depression—if it is a serious intoxication—can lead to the following effects: seizures, coma, cerebral edema (in some cases), gastrointestinal irritation (nausea and vomiting)" (Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry)

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It's not a big altar. Her shrine takes up a single shelf on a large bookcase that sits in the living room. With the exception of the bottom two, the rest of the shelves are full of old general books. Sheet music, photo albums, nature magazines, art tutorials, a number of miscellaneous tomes that they've collected over the years. Her ashes rest on a shelf that's about chest-level; an old framed photo of her has been placed next to her urn, and her old sewing kit still sits there as well, though it's been moved over to make room for other offerings and memorabilia. While not necessarily the most conventional place, it seemed like the one she would appreciate the most. Surrounded by art, written word and visual, even in death.

Tetsuya hasn't spent much time here.

Halmeoni is never far from his mind and her absence is sorely felt, but he takes no comfort in looking at her remains. To see a living, breathing person who was such an integral part of his life reduced to dust and abstract concepts is...upsetting. Whether or not she can hear his prayers, he will never get a response. All he has are memories that will grow hazy with time, and while it's impossible to forget her, he fears she will fade from the vibrant person she was to a vague impression. Perhaps avoiding a shrine dedicated to preserving her memory is rather counter-productive, but he prefers to remember her spirit in the vessel of flesh over porcelain vase.

Hercoldhardskin -

The urn is definitely a beautiful piece, but an ominous aura emanates from it. It's a glossy black broken up by lightning-like veins of gold gluing it together. Wrapped around the widest circumference of the urn is an ouroboros – a white serpent devouring its own tail.

It makes him wonder how long she had been thinking about dying.

It's not the type of thing that can be made overnight. Has it been sitting in her closet for years just waiting to be filled? Or perhaps his mother had been holding onto the design, and had it produced as soon as she passed. To be fair, it wouldn't have been unreasonable or particularly concerning of her. People often make these kinds of plans when they have children, or when they`re simply getting old. It`s more than likely she put most of her affairs in order after the stroke, but he still finds it unnerving to think that she had been ready to die at any moment ever since.

He supposes accepting one's mortality is just a part of aging.

Previous offerings are still sitting on the shelf, the last plate of strawberries his father left are now spoiled, and the chocolate cupcake Shige had left is no doubt stale. He removes both and temporarily places them on a lower shelf to make room for the fresh fruit, and using the pack of matches sitting next to the incense holder, he lights the stick. He gently wafts the smoke from his face before clapping twice and bowing his head in prayer.

'Good evening Halmeoni, and happy Seollal. I apologize for such sparse visitation, but...It's been hard without you. I miss you very much. I'm doing alright though; many people have been very supportive. I'll continue to do my best.' Tetsuya pauses, and considers leaving things there, but he is struck by a familiar urge to confide in her.

'...Mother and Father have been staying home to compensate for your absence lately, but I am not sure if I`m very thankful for that. That's probably ungrateful, since they've been trying to spend more time with me, but I find that it's not quite enjoyable...things are tense. I wish you were still here to talk to them. And I'm worried about Father...No. Perhaps it's best you disregard what I've said, there's nothing you can do now but worry. I hope the afterlife has been good to you. When we meet again, I`m sure I`ll have much to tell you. I love you Halmeoni, until next time.'

Finished with his prayer, he opens his eyes and studies her picture one last time. It's one of the photos taken for her feature in PRISM Magazine, wearing her favourite hanbok. Her hands are hidden in the dark blue sleeves of her jeogori and the details on the bottom of her white chima are hidden beneath her as she kneels. He's seen that skirt many times, still remembers the stiff but almost silky texture of the fabric and the little blue snowflakes patterned along the bottom hems. The winter theme was definitely out of season since the article issue was released in the spring, but she was known for doing as she pleased. It's nice. Her white hair is tied back into a low-ponytail and her eyes are warm as she stares into the camera. As his eyes wander around the shelf he notices another photo lying flat on the surface, which he picks up to examine.

It's an old photograph he's never seen before. The grayscale used in lieu of colour belies just how long ago this moment was captured. The top left corner is discoloured by water damage and the right side of the photo is neatly torn, but otherwise it's in fine condition. He has no idea where or when the picture was taken, and it's hard to distinguish any details with the grainy quality. Halmeoni looks fairly young, smiling and holding onto her floppy sunhat with her free arm as the wind throws her dark hair and billowing dress to the left. On her right, she's clutching someone by the arm but whoever they are, they were cropped out of the picture with the exception of the disembodied limb which overlaps with part of Halmeoni's image. This picture must have belonged to her, but it's hard for him to imagine his grandmother tearing a photo, and keeping the part with only herself. Odd.

A few other speculations run through his mind; the identity of the mysterious person – maybe even people - and what happened to the other half of the picture. Yet in the end, he decides its hardly worth all of this contemplation. It's just an old photo.

He picks up the spoiled offerings and returns to the kitchen to throw them away. His father is still cooking, and in the time it took for him to pay his respects, he's finished frying the jeon. Whether or not it's because his father hasn't noticed his return, Tetsuya is glad his father refrains from continuing his interrogation.

His father doesn't startle at the sound of running water, so he must have been spotted earlier. He pours the green dish soap on his hands, definitely wasteful, but he can't bring himself to care when the fruity fragrant starts to fog his mind.

The water gushes from the pipe, rushing down the drain, sounding like static in Tetsuya's ears.

Cold. Unnaturally cold. Odd textured and stiff as wax. Melted, burned to ash.

He i .

Dissonant with his own harmony. Clashing gears, cross-eyed as he reflects on the past, tries his best to stay present and avoids envisioning the future. Tetsuya feels many things in this moment, which culminates to nothing at all, like all of the colour in a rainbow bleeding together into a muddled mess.

He hand washes the few dishes uninterrupted.

He leaves the plates to dry in a dish rack and towels his hands free of water. Before he leaves the kitchen to return to his bedroom, Tetsuya asks, "When should I return for dinner?"

"In about an hour. I'll come get you."

"Will mother be joining us?"

"Much later. She said to put something aside for her."

"I see...thank you."

"No problem."

No problem.

Tetsuya retreats to his room.

I Am A Cat still lies on his desk where he left it, but now he has no appetite for reading. He lowers himself onto his bed, slowly, as if he's years older than his youthful face reveals. He tucks his legs up by his chest and just lays there curled up on himself to stave away the cold. He hardly remembers to blink as he let's time wash over him. His mind is blank as he watches the sinking sun vanish from his bedroom window. Eyes idly tracking dust motes as they dizzily descend; spinning, swimming through the orange glow before they vanish out of the light. Night falls as quickly as the closing curtains of a show and without the dancing dust motes to watch, he's left sitting in the dark. He can't think. Where thoughts were once bouncing around in his skull, they now vanish like a raindrop in the ocean.

So full of nothing that he is rendered immobile.

Drowsiness is a fog that begins to cloud his senses. Just as he shuts his half-lidded eyes a knock on his door brings him back to awareness. "Tetsuya? Dinner is ready."

Despite gravity working against him, he draws in a heavy breath and heaves himself somewhat upright. "Thank you." The words breeze out as half speech, half sigh. He takes his time sitting up, almost groaning as he rises to his feet. He opens his door to see an empty hallway, and Tetsuya contemplates returning to bed with the belief that it had been his imagination, but the promised amount of time has elapsed. Besides, the sounds had been too vivid for mere mind tricks.

Any lingering doubts are banished by the sight of the table fully set, his father putting down the last dish, a bowl of stir-fried rice cakes. The table is laden with a variety of foods, and even if everything isn't made from scratch he's still impressed with his father's ability to cook. He can't remember the last time he's tasted his parents' cooking prior to Halmeoni's passing. His father was never home to try, and he can only picture his mother having enough energy to microwave something after a long day at work.

There's a bottle of sake set at the table as well, and Tetsuya can't help but eye it a bit apprehensively when there aren't people to divide it amongst. To his father's credit it doesn't look like an overly large bottle, but it could still be generously shared between two people. While sake is best enjoyed the day it's opened, he hopes his father doesn't intend to drink all of it tonight.

He waits for his father to be seated before choosing the chair across from him. They're both stiff, eyeing each other warily.

His father clears his throat. "Um. I know tonight is...a lot different than what we're used to with half of the table absent," He pauses to give their empty spots a quick glance. "But...We don't spend much time together. Let's make the best of it." His father flashes him a quick smile, his lips curling and falling flat like a sheet catching a slight breeze.

Tetsuya nods in agreement and they say their thanks before partaking in the small feast.

This is definitely odd. Not exactly as unpleasant as he would have guessed in the past, but he's used to eating with his grandmother, and sometimes his mother joining them. Even when he was home, his father generally kept to himself and their conversations were usually fairly brief. These last few days have been completely foreign.

Perhaps losing Halmeoni made his father realize how much he cares.

They both start off with a bowl of tteokguk.

Though it's a touch saltier than what he's accustomed to, and she seems to have added more rice cakes than Halmeoni would, Mi-Suk is definitely a skilled cook. It still tastes like home and love and brings memories of New Year's past. Things are quiet. On a night like this, the radio would be playing softly, filling in all the gaps between them with ambient noise to make things feel at ease. But he gets the sense that if he tried such a thing right now it would only make the table feel larger, echo in the near empty room like a lone performer singing on stage without an audience.

Tetsuya fully expected this to be a brief and silent meal, but his father surprises him again.

"Did Halmeoni ever explain some of the symbolism behind tteokguk?"

Tetsuya pauses to think. It's said that one gains a year of age after consuming their first bowl, but his father probably would've said the importance of it rather than symbolism if that was the answer. "...I don't think so."

He watches as his father stirs his bowl, sloshing around the translucent off-white broth. "It's about prosperity and rebirth."

Quite befitting a dish used to usher in the new year.

His father fishes out a single rice cake with his spoon, careful to keep it over his bowl in case it drips. "When you stretch out the garaetteok dough, it's supposed to represent lengthening one's fortune. Then it's sliced into these coin-like pieces for wealth." His father eats the spoonful and washes it down with his first sip of sake before continuing. "I can't remember the story behind it, but it's also said that eating white things on New Year's allows you to start the year with a mind of purity."

"Interesting." It seems that Mi-Suk is still sending positive energy. He'll have to call to send his thanks along with well wishes towards her recovery. He's tempted to leave things at that but if his father really is putting in the effort to connect, he should a least try to meet him half way there. "Did Halmeoni teach you that?"

His father's face closes off into a more familiar expression, that same cool detachment from the funeral. "No. Just something I picked up at work." Tetsuya watches as he takes a longer sip, emptying the stemless wine glass before refilling it near the top.

It's seems that he's touched upon a sensitive subject, though he's not quite sure what he's prodded at.

After a moment's hesitation Tetsuya attempts to keep things moving. "Did you see anything interesting in...where was it again?"

"Kazan."

"Kazan? What were you supposed to do?"

"A number of things, but the main focus was the Kremlin." He mumbles before tacking on, "Probably not the Kremlin you're thinking of, that's in Moscow."

"Oh. I wasn't aware there's more than one."

"There's twelve."

"Oh."

Silence.

It feels like that conversation drew to a premature close, but with neither of them very forthcoming with detailed information it's the natural progression. However, the uncomfortable air has been dissipated by now so it doesn't feel wrong to just focus on the meal now.

They eat with nothing but their own thoughts for company and by the time Tetsuya has sampled every dish, there's only about a third of the sake left. His father didn't eat much, he mostly picked at his food between sips and idle observations of mundane things like the taste of the food. He's leaning on the table in a much more relaxed posture than earlier, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded, but still mostly clear and alert.

"Are you finished eating?" He asks, eyeing the food Tetsuya hasn't touched in a while.

He nods as he says, "Yes, thank you for the meal."

They both rise to their feet and while Tetsuya himself experiences a minor head rush, his father wavers like a reed in the wind before finding his balance. They work together to get everything cleaned up and while his father occasionally teeters, his faculties seem to be fully functioning. Once the dishes are loaded into the dishwasher and the food packed away, their purposeful momentum grinds to a halt. It's getting late, but there's still quite a bit of time before midnight. In previous years, after dinner they would do any variety of activities from playing a board game to just independent activities within close proximity wiith quiet chatter. It seems wrong to excuse himself to hide in his room again, but there's only so many things just two people can do and even less when one is slightly inebriated.

Just as he's about to mention something about school work, his father says, "I'll make us something warm to drink. Do you want hot chocolate?"

He considers declining but he's quick to remember that he was the one who was so insistent on spending tonight together. So he sets his reservations aside and says, "Yes please."

His father smiles, it's small, but undeniably there. "Just go wait in the living room, I'll bring it out."

Doing as he's told, Tetsuya leaves to kitchen and finds a seat on one of the new couches. Cold and stiff as expected, but not to the point of uncomfortable. Nigou lays curled up in his bed, barely stirring as he turns on the television. The current station is broadcasting a wildlife documentary about the dusty plains of the African savannah, and Tetsuya is content to watch it air.

His father walks into the room with three drinks in hand. The rest of his sake, a bottle or rum, and a mug of hot chocolate which he hands off to Tetsuya. "Here."

"Thank you." Murmurs Tetsuya.

His father sets down the bottle of rum on the glass table between them with a quiet clink, and keeps his sake in hand before he takes a seat on the couch adjacent to his. Judging by the change in cups, his father probably warmed his own drink as well. For a moment, the only sound to be heard is the snorting of wildebeest and the plodding of their hooves as the heard marches along.

The mug is a soothing heat in his cold hands. He takes a small sip and the rich taste is sweet on his tongue.

His father clears his throat, drawing his attention away from the screen. "I forgot to ask earlier, but how do you like your gift?"

Tetsuya blinks is surprise. "I like it very much. Did Halmeoni help you?"

Genuine merriment twinkles in his father's eyes, his smile pulling a little wider. "I'm really glad. I actually found it myself. We were- were walking around in this local shopping area and there were a lot of artesian shops. Things like non-franchised clothing stores and hand-made jewelry, right? And Matvey – guy we met, at the hotel – pointed out this craft shop. Matvey, by the way, is a very nice man. We were having a bit of trouble talking with one of the receptionists – beautiful hotel by the way, we took photos of it as well – and he was able to help translate." When his father pauses to take a drink, Tetsuya is pulled out of a spell.

His father used to read him to sleep when he was younger. Its odd hearing him ramble for so long, fleshing out his answer with all of these little anecdotes, when he's normally quite concise. He's forgotten how soothing his father's voice can be, deep an melodic when he gets into a tale.

Cup still loosely held in hand, he continues, "So, the…the craft shop. It's a really nice place, has this pine smell and you can hear someone working with a saw or some kind of power tool in the back. Lots of little figurines and a few larger carvings, all very impressive. Y'know, life-sized wooden bear on its hind legs, all that. There's this bookcase against a wall just full of rows of different matryoshka, traditional ones, past tzars, all kinds. And then I see…I saw that one.

"I haven't spent much time with the dog, Nigou, but it reminded me of him. And you. So I thought you would like it…and you do. I'm glad you do, because I felt really bad for missing your birthday."

"It's alright, I understand you have to work." Tetsuya avoids his gaze by taking a deep drink from his cup.

His father frowns, leans forward with intent. "No, really. I know how disappointing that shit is, and I'm sorry...'scuse the language. I- I'll…make it up to you, I promise."

Tetsuya shifts in his seat. "That's really not ne-"

"No, I insist. I- we'll- I'll come to one of your basketball games, when's the next one?"

Tetsuya sighs, lowering his mug to his lap. "The season is over. It's fine."

His father seems to think about something before he finally deflates in resignation. "I'll...We'll do something together, I promise." He repeats firmly.

Tetsuya's begining to see the futlity of arguing with him while he's in this state, so he simply agrees to appease him. "Alright, I look forward to it." He will not be holding his breath though.

His father nods in satisfaction.

Tetsuya turns his attention back to the television, where elephants have taken to dust baths, using their trunks to sling cooling mud and dirt on their wrinkled skin. A baby elephant clumsily swings it trunk in an attempt to emulate its elders, appearing more playful than purposeful in its motions. As the narrator describes the mechanisms of their matriarchal herds, he hears the seal on the rum bottle squeal before it snaps open as his father unscrews the cap.

"Tetsuya." Reluctantly, he turns back to his father. "Have you had your first drink yet?"

Shock runs through him at the sudden inquiry. "No, I'm still underage." There's no way his father is offering this.

"I'm surprised. Really? You know it's not that hard for high schoolers to get some." He watches as he pours the rum into his presumably empty sake cup.

"Well, I have never had any desire, and as athletes we usually abstain from such habits." He drinks more hot chocolate to sooth his fluttering nerves.

"Well..how about we make a New Year's toast? It's a good bonding moment...to have your first drink with your dad."

Tetsuya shifts in his seat, eyes darting between his father and the television as he tries to think. "I...really don't think mother would be okay with that."

"Well as your father, I say its okay. You're almost an adult now anyways-"

"I'm only sixteen."

"And I was thirteen. Just a bit won't hurt you." He tries to think of another excuse, but his father still walks around the table with the bottle in hand. He stops just before him and kneels down so that they're eye-to-eye, the moving blues and golds of the African horizon paint writhing shadows on his father's face.

"Do you trust me?"

The words echo in his mind like the cocking of a gun.

It's unclear who's temple the barrel kisses.

"…Yes."

His father nods with reassurance in his eyes. "Then please share this moment with me. Were safe at home, and I promise things won't get out a hand."

His mouth feels dry. The scent of alcohol, heady on his father's breath, wafts into his face as if to further him into temptation.

"Jus' a bit won't hurt, and your mother will never know."

Tetsuya tries to remember this moment. The comfortable feeling of restraint before he lets go of the safety rope. The hyper-awareness of how steady his feet are beneath him, before he leans back into a trust fall, and he's stuck in that terrifying span of time between the catch or the crash.

He searches for something, anything familiar and secure in his father's bright blue eyes...

"Okay."

His father smiles at his answer, wider than anything he can recall, and Tetsuya feels like he chose correctly.

"Okay." His father echoes warmly.

Tetsuya is offered the sake cup, filled to the top with rum that looks as pitch black as ink in the low light. He takes it with a weak grip compared to the tight hold he has on his mug. He can feel the weight of his father's expectations pressing down on him despite the rather cheery expression still molded on his face.

"...drink it right now?" He asks quietly.

"Just a little pre-drinking. Just a little taste of it straight. Trust me, it'll make anything else I make taste better." His father sounds so sure of himself, so unusually jolly and playful that Tetsuya decided to take his word for it just to keep the mood high. He holds it under his nose to get a whiff of it first, and the pungent smell of alcohol wrinkles his nose before he can help it. Yet underneath that strong odor is a sweeter smell, surprisingly pleasant and soon its more prominent scent he can detect. He hopes it's a sign that this liquid isn't as awful as he believes.

He looks at his father one last time - still lively and staring right back with clear anticipation - before taking the plunge.

It's foul.

He has never known regret so immediately after an action.

He had tried to gulp it all down in one mouthful like he had seen his father do countless times, but the moment it touched his tongue, wet his mouth, an agonizing burn lit up his nerves. Every crack in his lips stings as if he were sanitizing an open wound, and a taste quite similar to the smell of nail polish remover is stuck on his taste buds. He hastily spits the liquid back into the cup and licks his lips with more vigour than a starving dog staring at a steak to rid himself of the sensations, uncaring of the fact that some of it spills over his hand and his hot chocolate threatens to do the same.

His father is laughing at his misfortune, losing too much balance to remain upright in his kneel and almost falls over in his mirth before clumsily catching himself. A righteous anger builds in his chest at the realization that his father knew this would happen. As angry as he feels, he can't voice his indignation before he starts coughing as the sensations persist a little longer, though thankfully with less intensity. Tetsuya sets the cup on the coffee table with a loud clank before taking large gulps of his hot chocolate, which is blessedly soothing.

He's still nose-deep in his mug when his father finally recovers from his fit. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd react that badly."

Tetsuya lowers his drink to openly frown, but his father is still smiling as if the joke had gone over well.

"I-I'm sorry okay Kiddo? Kid? I'm really sorry." He has the decency to look stone-faced and sincere this time, but Tetsuya can still see the laughter in his hazy eyes and hear the almost mocking undertone.

This was a mistake.

"I'm going to bed." Just as Tetsuya rises from his seat, his father grabs onto his wrist with an almost uncomfortably tight grip.

This time his father looks properly contrite, a near desperate sheen in his eyes as he pleads in a somber tone. "Wait. I apologize, I shouldn't have done that. Tonight is supposed to be fun, so please give me one more chance."

Tetsuya's stomach churns with anxiety and indecision.

It...really wasn't that bad.

He's pulled similar ticks with spicy foods, and he's fallen victim to it himself on other occasions. While it was rather unkind not to warn him, he really should've known better than to try and match a seasoned drinker. If he had taken a sip as was probably expected, it wouldn't have gone this badly. Tetsuya sits back down and his father releases his grip.

"Thank you. I'll mix it with something, you won't even taste it, I promise." His father stands from his crouch and starts heading back towards the kitchen, bottle in hand. "You like cola? It goes good with rum. I think we have a can somewhere..."

"I don't like carbonated drinks." Tetsuya gently reminds him.

His father pauses in his steps. "Oh. Right. Sorry." He seems to think for a moment before walking back towards him. "Can I borrow your hot chocolate?" It's clear what he plans on doing, but Tetsuya hands it over regardless.

As predicted, his father pours alcohol into his mug, but it's a lot more than just a splash. He looks into the cup as soon as it's given back, and what was once half empty is now filled up about two-thirds. He stares at it was renewed apprehension.

"It'll taste better this time." Says his father.

'It can't be worse than what I just tasted.' He thinks before taking a cautious sip.

It's...strange.

It is by far more palatable than the first attempt but he can still taste the alcohol underneath the hot chocolate. It's drinkable though, so he has another taste.

"Better?"

"Better." Tetsuya agrees.

He's hardly had more than a few sips and already Tetsuya feels a heat permeating through his chest. It's a bone deep glowing warmth that's more potent than the heat he absorbed from the temperature of the drink itself. He feels his cheeks flush, but so far no other side-effects.

His father finally returns to his seat, and now without a cup he takes a swig straight from the bottle. Tetsuya watches with something akin to concern and respect as he drinks it with leisure, not a single grimace of displeasure as it does down with ease. His father seems to sense his shock. "When you drink enough, it all starts to taste like water." He explains with a shrug.

Tetsuya chooses to watch the television.

It seems he's missed quite a bit of the program, the screen now focused on a pride of lions tearing into a zebra. Blood smeared on their maws, claws swiping at one another for the choice pounds of flesh. The narrator goes on to explain how the carcass wont nearly be enough to fill the pride, and how it's only a matter of time before the lionesses and cubs are chased away by the bigger males.

He becomes so immersed in the program, that it's too easy to forget the hot chocolate was spiked.

He mindlessly gulps down mouthful after mouthful as that burning aftertaste starts to fade away with his worries about such a taboo activity. It isn't until his limbs feel weighted, his head feels heavy on his shoulders that he realizes just how much he's consumed. Oh dear. He debates telling his father, wondering if this is normal or if they should do something, when both of their heads snap towards the direction of the front door.

"I'm home!"

Oh dear.

"Welcome back." He and his father chorus.

His father swiftly stashes the bottle bellow the coffee table, well-hidden from her natural line of sight should she walk towards them. His father then turns to him with his usual stony expression, the silly man of just moment ago completely evaporated. His voice is low and urgent as he glances between him and the hall. "How you feeling?"

Other than a little wobbly in his seat, he feels alright. "I...f-fine." His tongue tangles in his mouth, almost tripping on the simple word.

His father appears to curse under his breath for some reason. "Be cool alright? Just watch TV and let me handle this. If she sits down, just go to sleep." He instructs.

But what if he misses midnight?

Before he can voice his concerns his mother walks into the room, eyes automatically giving a cursory scan of their set up. Her eyes lock onto the sake cup that sits conspicuously close to his side of the coffee table. He brings his mug to his lips in hopes of convincing her that he hasn't even touched it.

She sighs, brushing invisible dust from her black pencil skirt, silk red shirt still neatly tucked in. "Tsukiyo, you're making a mess. Please use a coaster, and make sure you clean up that spill." She says, gesturing to the cup. "You boys having fun?"

His father looks completely normal, sitting straight-backed against the couch and his face totally placid. "Oh yeah, I was just telling him about Kazan."

She crosses her arms and quirks a brow with what he hopes is amusement rather than doubt. "It looks like you're putting him to sleep." And with both of his parents looking at him, Tetsuya realizes that he's been dazedly watching them with half-lidded eyes, bowling ball head lolled on his shoulder.

He blinks himself out of his stupor and tries to mimic his father's posture. Feet planted firmly, sitting upright and face carefully blank. "I...I am fine." He clears his throat. "Hello mother."

Strangely, he feels nothing as she frowns in his direction. "If you're tired you should go to bed. It is a school night Tetsuya."

"He'll be alright." His father cuts in, drawing her attention back to him. "We're having a good time together, don't worry about us. The food is in the fridge."

She gives them both one last skeptical look-over, her eyes lingering on him before she nods to herself and turns away. "I'll trust you two to take care of yourselves, but don't let things get out of hand." She warns, and before leaving she wishes them a happy New Year's. "Saehae Bok Mani Badeuseyo."

They spend a few minutes listening to her move around in the kitchen, quiet clinks and beeps as she servers herself and reheats it. They hear her footsteps head elsewhere in the house, likely taking her food to her office to finish up some task before bed. After a moment of silence Tetsuya meets his father's eyes.

It's slight at first, but a smile slowly creeps back onto his face until even Tetsuya is matching him with a full-blown grin. Overcome by a sudden wave of euphoria, he is helpless to contain the laughter that suddenly comes spilling forth. Mania is the word that comes to mind as this high fails to abate. He can't remember if he's felt this giddy before, his mood so infectious that even his father starts laughing just as hysterically.

He can't believe they just got away with that.

His father reclaims the bottle and raises it in a toast, a motion Tetsuya mimics with his mug before they both take a deep swill. It's not clear what they're drinking to, but if he had to guess it would be their new-found comradery.

Reformed bonds.

'Yeah, I'll drink to that.' He thinks as he tosses his head back.

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The next chapter will continue from here. Sorry for any inaccuracies! I tried, but there's way too much I'm unfamiliar with to get into it as much as I would've liked to. I'm also sorry if there's a drop in quality, it's been a while.

I'll try to get back to bi-weekly updates again!