The Distance Between Us

Chapter Two: "New" Shinobu's POV

Shinobu detached himself from his ear phones, logged out of the chatroom, and turned off his phone. He shuffled the homework pages beneath him and set them in a neat pile on the corner of his desk. He would work on them later, not that it mattered he was already at least two weeks ahead in most of his classes.

While he had not heard Miyagi come in, Shinobu was aware that something in the apartment had changed: it no longer felt empty.

The frowning teen emerged from his room, annoyed with how fast his heart had suddenly started beating at the possibility that Miyagi might have finally come home. he felt this same heart sink when he encountered the vacant front room.

That was until he noticed Miyagi's shoes and his briefcase lined up in the hall alongside his own.

Shinobu walked over to the entry. He bent down and traced the toe of one of Miyagi's shoes with a long, thin finger. He blushed, thinking how stupid it was that something as simple as the sight of Miyagi's big tired brown loafers next to his own new sporty shoes could move him so. He supposed that this was because it was proof that the dream he had guarded for so long had finally come true.

The youth crept back into the depths of the apartment and softly pushed open the door to Miyagi's… to their room. Sure enough, there was Miyagi.

Shinobu's first response to seeing that Miyagi had come home without announcing his arrival was to storm in and berate the man for not immediately letting him know he was there, especially after he'd been waiting for hours.

It wasn't as if he expected Miyagi to shower him with kisses and declarations of affection upon arriving home, though secretly he might have liked that maybe once in a while. Why didn't the old man understand yet, how painful his absence was? Every minute that Shinobu passed alone in the apartment they were now sharing was interminable.

However, Shinobu found his anger evaporating as his gaze lingered on his professor: watching the big man sit in that broken down chair that fit him so perfectly, his eyes closed, ears encased in those archaic head-phones, unlit cigarette dangling loosely from one corner of his sensual mouth.

Risako tried to make Miyagi get rid of that chair.

Shinobu could still clearly remember one of those torturous times (before he had revealed himself to Miyagi) when he'd had to stay overnight with the Miyagi and his sister while his parents were traveling to some event. It was ridiculous really that they had gone to the bother of making those arrangements. He had been more or less on his own in some fashion for years. His folks were really rarely around; both so involved with their own lives and the politics of advancement.

Still he had acquiesced to going because it meant that he would be able to be around Him.

While he was there, passing by the couple's bedroom he had heard Miyagi and his sister fighting over that chair.

"I swear, Yoh, I don't understand your stubbornness. Why won't you just let me get rid of this broken down relic?"

"Risako, love, I have had that chair since I was an undergrad. It was the first piece of furniture I ever bought on my own. I wrote two theses and my dissertation sitting in that chair. It is where I have had some of my greatest thoughts."

"Well, I don't care about any of that, Yoh. It's tacky and horrible and doesn't go with any of our other décor. You live too much in the past as it is. Let it go! I swear you value that piece of junk more than you do my happiness!"

Standing out in the hall, Shinobu had held his breath, waiting to hear Miyagi's declarations to the contrary, an outpouring of affirmation regarding Risako's value to him and the importance of their love. But none had come, Miyagi had simply remained silent.

Ducking around a corner, a moment later, Shinobu had hidden himself just in time to see his sister storm out, slamming the door behind her. His own heart had begun banging just as violently as he was seized with a sudden sense of hope.

Gray eyes narrowed even now, as Shinobu recalled how Risako had treated his lover.

Silly shallow bitch.

Shinobu still couldn't believe that she had not realized in her demands that she was doing the very thing she had accused Miyagi of. Perhaps the chair was a relic, but if she had understood her husband at all, she would have recognized Miyagi loved two things above all else, thought and historical relics. Why else would he have otherwise dedicated his whole life to something as particular as ancient literature?

Miyagi's attachment to the past could be most clearly seen in the world he'd fashioned for himself. There was nothing he treasured that was new or shiny.

Except me. Shinobu realized.

There were times like this, observing the man as he was, that Miyagi seemed to him to belong to a different era, one even further removed from the time the man had been born into.

Shinobu's face took on its familiar frown as he worried about this, the way that he stuck out in his lover's life, the disruption he brought to Miyagi's comfortable monastic existence. He wanted nothing more than to be a worthy acolyte to his handsome scholar monk.

The teen felt tears well up in his unruly eyes. He tried so hard to tone himself down, to seem older, less new, but unfortunately, every time he did this he seemed to only exaggerate his novelty and his unworthiness.

Standing still unnoticed in the doorway, Shinobu continued to study his lover. Miyagi was lost in his musical reverie, his body relaxed and completely still, except for one of his large hands, swinging back and forth on occasion to emphasize the movement of a particular passage of the piece he was listening to. The grace of this small gesture reminded Shinobu of a cat's tail, flicking in contentment as it lounged on a sunny sill.

It troubled Shinobu that as comfortable as he was with the fast pace of the world in which he resided, that he always felt as though he could not keep up with his beloved elder's slow purposeful meanderings.

The boy turned from the door and headed out towards the kitchen to resume fixing their dinner.

Reflecting on Miyagi's subtle orchestration, Shinobu realized that everything was like that for Miyagi. He seemed to flow rather languidly through his life, as though nothing bothered him, as though little mattered. However, the longer he lived with him, the more Shinobu understood now this motion was more practiced than natural.

Many people interpreted Miyagi's mode of conduct as carefree or careless. His sister Risako did, and Shinobu had more than once heard Kamijou Sensei, complaining about it. But these people didn't really know anything about Miyagi. Not the way he understood him anyways.

Shinobu moved into the kitchen and grabbed up the knife from where he'd left it on the cutting board. He angrily chopped the vegetables he was preparing in response to these people's disregard.

Miyagi was not at all carefree, he worked very hard. Shinobu should know; he was the one who had to endure missing his lover because of it. All the hours spent in the same room, separated by the papers Miyagi had brought home to grade. The lonely times spent on his own, while the older man was in meetings or at the library doing research. And no one knew all the extra things Miyagi did for his students, like writing their letters of recommendation by hand, on good parchment in that beautiful script he had.

Or things like what had happened just two nights ago, when a teary-eyed thesis student had shown up unannounced on their doorstep, completely beside herself. Miyagi had worked with the young woman until almost two a.m. helping her get her thoughts organized. He never lost his patience with her the entire time she was there or even thought to point out that she had interrupted him and Shinobu at a very inopportune time.

Shinobu of course had been pissed. It was not often he had time with Miyagi. Add to that having to endure the girl's questioning looks at him and Miyagi's announcement that he was a family relative staying with him temporarily. He had been incensed about having to pretend that he slept in his own room.

At least until after that idiot girl finally left and Miyagi came and crawled into "my" bed wanting to continue our earlier interrupted "tutoring" session.

The youth blushed as he felt warmth flood his groin at the memory. There were definite advantages at times to having a partner who was so much older. Miyagi was an amazing lover.

Still, as Shinobu set the table, he acknowledged to himself that more often than not, the difference in their ages was frustrating.

He understood that this was the time in his life when he should be exploring the world, but what did that mean when his world was Miyagi?

It was maddening sometimes the references that Miyagi made about things that he had no connection to. There was so much history to the man that had happened before he had even been born. Miyagi knew so much about so many things, and not in a casual "Google search" sort of way, but in a way that spoke of deep learning and dedicated investigation.

Shinobu knew he was very bright and a quick study, but still he worried that at some point Miyagi would grow weary of having to provide such constant instruction. That he would eventually become too frustrated by the fact that the scope of his younger over's knowledge was so limited to continue in their relationship.

The idea that he would tax the old man into rejection or that the professor might simply grow bored with him was unbearable.

Often he found himself wishing he were older and more confident. He wanted desperately to become a man who could stand rightfully alongside the one that he loved. Shinobu was terrified at times that he would lose Miyagi because he could not evolve quickly enough into the man he should and wanted to hoped he would have the time he needed with Miyagi to become part of the past his lover so treasured, enough so that the man would not be able to relinquish him.

Until then, Shinobu wished he knew more how he could successfully navigate the vast distance between them.

Thank you for reading and please review.

Lionfish13, what a wonderful treat from you today to receive so many lovely and articulate reviews. Thank you for noticing the little details. It's so pleasing to have someone mention them and they give me so much pleasure to write. Hope you continue to enjoy the rest of the story. And that bit about the cell phones... I am more on Miyagi's end of that spectrum, but I have experienced that too.