Rewinding

oOo

Yuichi

Shinoda cast a cursory glance at the sunlight streaming in through the windows, his scowl gone as quickly as it had come. "Damn, it's hot."

"Tell me about it", said Yuichi immediately, though he could hear the octave of his voice sliding higher and knew it would be a temporary relief. "I'm soaked. Been walking a lot today, even in this sun... I should probably ask mother for a car, but it's not like I know how to drive, and I..."

"You don't need a car." Shinoda's voice was blunt. "Don't act like a total brat. If I can walk, so can you." Yuichi did not have time to wonder why this stung. "And don't try to change the subject like that—you know why we're here."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do." The younger man struggled with the brief but tempting urge to lay his head on the table and close his eyes; he felt exhausted, even disheartened, for some reason—for many reasons—as though nothing he was trying to do made sense any more.

"Wait till the sun's sunk a little lower in the sky", said Shinoda, a bit gentler now. He starts out harsh and then softens... He's like a dog trainer. What am I, a dog? "That way you can walk in a little more comfort, if it really does bother you, but... one way or the other, hop to it."

"'Hop to it'?" snorted Yuichi. "You talk like an old man."

The "old man" in question merely shrugged. "Maybe I am one. Ever thought about that, Yuichi-kun? Ever thought about how old I might be?"

He only ever tacks on the "-kun" when he wants to sound even more supercilious than usual, the bastard. "Hell if I know", said Yuichi, his voice less snappish than he'd have liked. It's the heat, it's making me fucking wilt. "You could be a fossil for all I care. But—I'll be honest, you..." Wait, what am I saying? "You don't look a day over twenty-five."

At least the raise of his eyebrows looked spontaneous, to the student's curious satisfaction.

"Well, I'm certainly not twenty-five", said Shinoda, and that was genuine surprise Yuichi heard, he was sure of it. "Is that flattery, boy?"

"'Boy'?" Yuichi echoed disgustedly. "Really, now? And no, if I say you look twenty-five you look fucking twenty-five. Flattery's not something I'm good at or ever really want to be good at." That's the job of sleazy, smarmy smooth-talkers like you, isn't it?

He knew he had no business feeling outraged at the smirk this elicited, but it didn't stop him.

"Take it from someone who's well over twenty-five, Yuichi—if you can get anywhere at all in life without some form of flattery coming into play, you have to be either very capable, or very influential. Preferably both."

"I am both, though", Yuichi said with ill-concealed petulance. God, do I ever stop being petulant around him? "You work for—alright, with, you work with my mother—so you already know how influential she is, and... well, I probably haven't made the best case for myself thus far, but I'm a good student, and a hard worker. I don't intend to ride on mother's coattails or anything. I never have."

"You know", Shinoda muttered, his eyes straying to the window again, "your mother's coattails were likely what brought Kusama Nowaki into your house in the first place."

"What are you talking about?" said Yuichi sharply.

Shinoda waved a vague hand by way of elucidation. "Don't be so naïve. Surely you know something of how difficult it is to actually adopt a child from an orphanage these days?"

"Well, I—!" How difficult is it, really? How long had it taken us when we brought him home? It had simply happened, from what he could remember... one day he was untethered and the next he was sharing his life with a dark-haired, pale-faced boy who spoke little with his mouth and plenty with his liquid blue eyes.

The paperwork, the legal procedure... Why would I have cared about them at that age? Why did I never question it until now?

Some of his dejected comprehension must have shown on his face, because the gray eyes across him smiled thinly. "You see what I mean. Unless his home had actual proof that his parents were deceased, which would in any case help matters only somewhat—"

"But they didn't." Yuichi's voice was dull. "They never knew what happened to his parents. Someone or the other left him at the door of the orphanage one night when he was a baby. Nowaki was..." I wish no one had ever told me this... maybe, maybe if I hadn't said it one time too many, none of this would have happened... "He was an abandoned child."

His eye throbbed a little, as though remembering a recently healed bruise.

"Oh look", said Shinoda in the exact same misty tone of voice, "our food's here. Lighten up, Yuichi."

Since this is the first time I'm ready to talk about it at all, my luck will see to it that he won't ask. Incredible.

This... thing we have here was never a normal or healthy arrangement by any standards, but with me withholding my end of the "deal" and him not asking me about it, I just...

The older man's quiet "itadaki masu" cut through his thoughts as he joined in automatically. I just feel so fucked up, like... he's not even doing this because of something that I can voluntarily offer him, he just likes jerking people around. He likes jerking me around.

And, like the lonely asshat that I am, I can't shake him off.

"How's the food? Not to your taste?"

"Too hot to eat right now, thanks", growled Yuichi, incensed; the restaurant was cheaper than the sort of establishments he was given to choosing by himself, and they both knew it. "Here, why don't I just burn my taste buds off, there's an idea. The plates have been on the table for all of two minutes—"

"Yuichi-kun..."

Back to "-kun", are we? "What, god dammit?"

The eyes offered him a look that was considerably less steely than he had expected. "Is it me who's getting on your nerves, or the prospect of what you're about to do this evening?"

"Both", Yuichi said acidly. "But that doesn't mean I'm backing down from either."

Let's see when he switches to plain "Yuichi" now, the asshole. The chopsticks between his nerveless fingers clattered against the rim of his bowl, betraying a low fury that he would not allow his words to bear.

I'm lost. I'm fucking lost and being guided through an absolute clusterfuck of emotions by the sound of this man's voice and he's only as kind or cruel to me as his mood dictates.

"Now that's what I like to hear", Shinoda said, his tone earnest but his expression more smirk than smile. "Eat up, boy. The food's good enough for you if it is for me."

"Boy"...

"Shinoda-san", he said plaintively into his soup bowl, watching his yellowed reflection ripple and shatter, "I'm so lost." Even if you're half my problem, who else can I talk to? Who do I have but you?

"Hey now."

He looked up to find what he could only hope was a genuine look of concern on the man's face. The very fact that he was prepared to hope for this frightened him.

"You're not lost", Shinoda told him on that sunny afternoon with the street bustling outside their window and their food still sending up ribbons of steam into their faces. "I'm here. You needn't worry about finding your way until you're ready."

I don't understand you... I don't understand you one bit...

He wanted to cry.

"I'm here for a reason", the man murmured, once again gazing out the window at something Yuichi could not see. "You might find that it works out in your favor after all, Yuichi. Things are never as bad as they seem."

oOo

"Bring him here. The place is cheap, and if the worst comes to the worst, you can pay for both of you, and that's assuming he even orders anything. But otherwise—you're pretty much on your own then. Do your worst, kid."

"And where are you going to be?" The words were out of his mouth before he could even process them. Shinoda arched a pale eyebrow, then motioned out of the window at the street.

"Bookstore. I've been checking it out this whole time, and it's perfectly located. I've been meaning to buy some new books anyway."

Oh, so that's what he kept looking at...

"So whatever you do", he continued, "make sure he sits where I'm sitting now, or at least facing the bookstore's general direction. The priority's got to be his face and not yours."

"What—why him?" Yuichi asked blankly. Why the preference? "What's wrong with my face—?"

"Very little is wrong with your face, actually", Shinoda cut in with a sigh. "But... eh, call it a foolish hunch if you will, but just humor me on this one. I'd like to monitor his expressions in any case, since they'd likely be a better indicator of how things are proceeding."

Yuichi shrugged, the slow realization that he had just received a compliment—a grudging, indirect one, but a compliment from Shinoda nonetheless—only just pulling an equally slow tinge of color into his cheeks. "Have it your way."

"The sun will be setting soon", his companion said meditatively. A finger tapped on the plastic table; the message was clear. I really am a trained dog.

Outside, just as the older man turned away with a curt and rather pointed nod, something made Yuichi reach for his wrist. Shinoda looked back first slowly, then all at once, his expression more inscrutable than ever.

"How old are you really, Shinoda-san?"

A city's silence settled where their skins touched and eyes met, then Shinoda Kei said quietly, "Does it matter to you at all?"

Even though he did spare this a moment's thought, his answer was the same. "No. I suppose not."

"Good", Shinoda replied, still just as quietly. "I'll be heading to the bookstore now. Go get 'em, Yuichi."

"Yuichi"... Yes, thank you...

He gave the man a nod of his own as he walked away, entirely unaware of the smile that was playing on his lips, unaware of anything but a weary and yet strangely content sense of resignation. No... no better than a trained dog. And yet...

"Go get 'em, Yuichi."

"I will", he said softly. What good is a dog without his master?

oOo

Ooookay because I love these two fuckers and their marvelously screwy dynamics almost more than I love the actual Egoist arc in this fic, lemme ramble at yall for a bit

I admit I don't actually know if switching between keigo and no keigo is a done thing in Japan, but I thought I'd take a risk seeing as how Shinoda's the elder and it would be up to him to steer the formality level of the conversation according to his (capricious) will. Since he's seen Yuichi as a bratty teenager as well as a moody young adult, his sentiments towards the younger man probably fluctuate a lot in his mind, switching among almost peer-worthy respect, elderly affection, and outright condescension depending on how childlike Yuichi is being at the moment.

As such, his constantly changing honorific usage (and lack thereof) is more of a subconscious manifestation of those feelings than something he does on purpose, while the lonely and frustrated and somewhat beleaguered Yuichi has come to see it as positive or negative reinforcement for his behavior. So in a sense, thanks to his insecurity and need for validation from Shinoda—the only "adulty" adult who's ever given him the time of day besides his loving but busy mother—he's essentially training himself. ...While blaming Shinoda for it, who may be an ass but isn't nearly as wily as all that. Oh what a tangled web we weave. (But to tell you the truth, I didn't weave the web myself any more than Shinoda trained Yuichi.)

Oh, and actual idiot FFN user Ego And Psyche forgot to bump up the rating for this fic even though it should have been rated M since chapter 12 or something. Fuckin amazing. Why did none of you tell me about it omfg *drags hands down face*

(P.S. Thank you for all those reviews on the last chapter too, you guys—I didn't know there were so many of you still around! ;w;)