Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shuichi’s uncle grabs his arm before he gets on the plane and it’s the look in his eye rather than the hold on his upper arm that makes the Ultimate Detective step away to talk.

“You don’t have to go, you know.” His uncle points out, a frown creasing his features. “You can say no and nobody will blame you. I know that spending a week in America with your father isn’t your idea of a good time.”

“I’m not going to have a good time.” Shuichi reminds gently. “I’m going to pay respects to my mother.” And even if he’d rather not go, he knows he’ll never forgive himself if he chooses to abstain. There will be too many things that he could’ve done, at that point, and though he’s been able to function for the past several months, just going to the funeral will probably help him to lay any lingering thoughts on the matter to rest for good. He’s not expecting his attendance to fix his problems, but it might be good for him. Aside from that, too, no matter what his uncle says, it’s not going to replace his moral obligation to go. His mother died. That has to be dealt with, and Shuichi should be there at the funeral, to at least see part of it through.

Really, he knew that he was going to agree to go to the funeral the moment he hung up the phone after talking to his uncle. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to go, or speak to his father, or any of it, he just… he felt that he needed to. And even if his uncle acted like it was alright, he was sure that his uncle would be disappointed if he chose not to attend. At least a little bit. Shuichi’s mind didn’t change even after talking to his father on the phone, and that had been an awfully uncomfortable phone conversation.

Still, he puts on a brave face with his uncle. “Besides, I’m not really spending a week with my father, remember?” He would’ve been staying at his father’s place, but he requested that he be allowed to get a hotel room instead, and his father had insisted on paying for it. Plus, there were… other things, Shuichi thought, that would make this trip bearable. “And I won’t be alone for it. I’ll have Rantaro there.”

That had been a whole other decision on its own, and Shuichi still isn’t entirely sure it’s a good idea, but he feels it’s the only thing that’s really giving him the courage to go through with this.

He spent the entire day after his uncle reportedly gave his phone number to his father in a daze, waiting on that phone call. But even though he had his ringer on at full volume and twitched every time his phone even made a noise, it wasn’t until around one in the morning that he finally got that call. Inconsiderate, on his father’s part, but Shuichi understood. California, where his father lives, is sixteen hours behind Japan, so it would’ve been around 5PM for him at the time the call was made. It was just fortunate that Shuichi was awake.

And there wasn’t much to report about the call itself, but talking to his father after years of radio silence… Shuichi was stressed, and after how close he’d been to feeling better that morning, he couldn’t really deal with it. So despite the hour, he went to Rantaro’s room.

Thinking about it almost makes Shuichi blush, but it’s not the kind of thing he wants to get into in front of his uncle. Even in his head. Nothing happened worth noting, of course- they talked for a bit, cuddled. Rantaro offered to come to California with Shuichi, and even though he didn’t want to impose, Shuichi knew realistically that there was no way he could reject an offer like that. Not with Rantaro. And then they made out for about an hour and fell asleep.

It’s been about fifteen hours since then- honestly, neither of them attended class that day. They both woke up at around ten in the morning and spent the rest of the day before Shuichi’s uncle arrived to drive them to the airport packing. Shuichi didn’t pack much more than a backpack worth of stuff, and he was worried about it until he saw how similarly lightly Rantaro had packed. Neither of them needed much more than what the hotel would provide, anyway.

There was a brief discussion about whether or not Rantaro would be okay being in a car to go to the airport, but the adventurer had just pursed his lips and promised that it would be alright.

Shuichi is trying to take Rantaro’s word for it. Not just about the car thing. So before his uncle can say anything else, he leans forward and hugs the man, forgetting the fact that they’re at the airport for a moment so he can properly bid his uncle adieu. It’s not like he hasn’t gone a week without seeing his uncle, before. Shuichi attends a private academy, after all. It’s just… well, the prospect of going to California for any reason, his mother’s funeral, no less, is intimidating. He needs all the comfort he can get.

His uncle reciprocates, briefly but tightly, and holds back any further protests, which tells Shuichi that the message has been received. When he pulls back from the embrace, all his uncle says is, “Have a safe trip,” before allowing him to go back and join Rantaro in line to board the airplane.

He’s ridden a plane before. Albeit, it was once, and he was pretty young at the time, so Shuichi is far from an expert, but he’s not frightened by turbulence or worried about the plane crashing. Logically he knows that it’s a possibility, and the possibility does wonders for Shuichi’s anxiety, but he also understands that worrying about it isn’t going to do him any good, so there’s no reason that he shouldn’t simply shelf the thoughts for later, when the plane has touched the ground again.

Still, he gets bored fast. He’s starting to regret not being smart like Rantaro, and bringing a book.

Speaking of Rantaro…

He glances over at the adventurer, who rides planes pretty regularly (though he prefers to travel by boat, Shuichi’s been told) and is thus accustomed to it. Rantaro is sitting with his legs tucked under him and a book held in one hand, gaze fixed on whatever is written in the pages. In the bright light that reflects off the clouds and peeks through the windows of the plane, Rantaro’s green eyes are as see-through as stained glass, and take on the appearance of emeralds. His eyelashes are absurdly long, and little particles of light get caught on them every so often, giving him the appearance of drinking in the sunlight. Since they’re traveling, neither of them is dressed in a school uniform, and Rantaro is wearing what he’d usually wear- but perhaps due to the warm temperature on the plane, he’s taken off his blue shirt and tied it around his waist, leaving only a couple tank-tops underneath, and Shuichi would like to note on the record that it’s incredibly distracted.

It’s also worth noting, though, that Shuichi doesn’t mind at all. Rantaro really is quite thin- it doesn’t always seem like it with all the shirts he tends to wear, but right now it shows especially. As he reads, his other hand is being used to hold up his head, and a couple of his fingers have tangled in his green hair, which is still the same mess it was this morning.

The fact that it’s only been a day since Shuichi and Rantaro established their feelings for each other is really blowing his mind. It’s felt as though every other aspect of their relationship has been so slow… and really this one is too, what with Shuichi putting a pause on the whole traveling-with-Rantaro decision, but… this feels different, somehow. It’s hard for him to process at the moment. Especially with all this funeral business… there really isn’t anything else that Shuichi would rather do less than this.

Inevitably, Rantaro notices that Shuichi is staring at him, and his eyes flicker over to meet the detective’s. Despite having spaced out, Shuichi immediately becomes attentive when Rantaro’s gaze is on his face. And even though he’s comfortable with the other boy, his heart still wobbles in his chest when the adventurer’s lips quirk in a small smile.

“See something you like?” Rantaro teases, reaching over to ruffle Shuichi’s hair. It’s the same big-brother sort of gesture that Shuichi has always loathed from anybody, not just Rantaro, but it’s with affection rather than contempt that he catches the other boy’s wrist before he can pull it away entirely, lacing their fingers together and laying their joined hands down on the armrest between them.

“Maybe…” Shuichi muses, averting his gaze to try to hide his embarrassment (despite knowing that there’s no way that Rantaro would judge him). “Your book, for one thing. I should’ve brought one on.”

“Hmm…” Rantaro pulls a face. “I know you told me to be more open minded about books, but this one isn’t very good, either.” He marks his page anyway and puts it to the side. “I think I’d rather do something else. Want to watch a movie?” He gestures at the screens that are set up in front of them. “I think they have Mean Girls … since we’re going to California, it might be nice to get into the mood and watch something that they all like there.”

Though he’s trying to keep an open mind, Shuichi makes a face, not dissimilar to the one Rantaro made moments earlier. “I don’t like that movie.” It’s not that he’s trying to let his pet peeves dictate his interests, he just… “Ah, but... I suppose we could watch it. It beats sitting here in silence.” Besides, even if he feels the movie isn’t good, the idea of watching a movie with Rantaro isn’t so bad. There are definitely worse ways to spend their time.

With that out of the way, Rantaro pops in the disk, and they both put on their headphones, ready to tune in to the film. Within the first fifteen minutes, though, Shuichi finds himself getting tired. Maybe it’s the hum of the engine, or the gentle noise in his ears, but he just… these sorts of circumstances always lull him to sleep. Besides, he’s going to be incredibly jetlagged either way; they’ve got a ten hour flight ahead of them. So he might as well get some sleep while he feels like he can. Shuichi shuffles around in his spot, trying to get comfortable, and hesitantly rests his head on Rantaro’s shoulder. The adventurer, without looking over, adjusts his position to put his arm around Shuichi’s shoulders and pull him closer.

Rantaro’s scent is so familiar to him, now, that Shuichi can’t help the almost immediate sense of security that the action puts him into. He presses as close as the position will allow and closes his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of Regina George being a bitch.

When Shuichi opens his eyes again, it’s to the sound of the pilot, over the speakers. They’re coming in to the Las Angeles airport and should buckle back up again for the landing. It’s not a problem for him or Rantaro because it doesn’t seem as though either of them has gotten up throughout the flight, but Shuichi does sit up, noting that Rantaro must’ve removed his headphones, because they are back where they were before rather than hanging around his neck. The adventurer, on the subject, appears to have fallen asleep himself, and as much as Shuichi is reluctant to wake him up (both because Rantaro is adorable in sleep and because he doesn’t want to rob his boyfriend of the extra shut-eye) he finds himself reaching over and gently shaking his shoulder.

“Hey, the plane’s landing soon.” He murmurs, just as Rantaro begins to stir. The other boy yawns, stretching his arms above his head, and nods, whispering a thanks for Shuichi’s waking him up. The detective smiles slightly but doesn’t respond, instead choosing to reclaim Rantaro’s hand and focus his gaze out the window.

Initially, upon exiting the plane, Shuichi is concerned about the prospect of finding his father in the huge crowds of people that are congregating in the airport. He doesn’t think communication is going to be a problem- he’s not particularly good at English, though he’s certainly not bad at it either, but his father speaks Japanese as his first language, so he hasn’t been stressing out about it. It’s just that Shuichi hasn’t seen his father anywhere but a movie screen for the past decade and a half of his life, and embarrassingly, he’s not sure that he’ll recognise him right away.

But that doesn’t end up being a problem. Shuichi knows that his father is a famous actor, and that’s all good and well, but the bodyguards are not only extra, but probably extremely unnecessary. His father sticks out in the crowd like a sore thumb. There are people taking pictures, it seems, but they’re keeping their distance, for the most part. And the moment that Shuichi spots his father, in the middle of his group, his father spots him, and a large smile crosses over his features.

Probably too large, considering how he abandoned Shuichi before he could even speak properly, but the detective decides to keep it to himself.

Maintaining a tight grip on Rantaro’s hand, because Shuichi doesn’t think he could handle losing the only thing that’s keeping him sane right now, he pushes through the crowds of people to get to his father, murmuring “excuse me” and “sorry” as coherently as he can in English. Behind him, with much better pronunciation, Rantaro is doing the same, and Shuichi feels his nerves calm a little bit at the repeated reminders that he’s got Rantaro here right now.

Then he arrives in front of his father.

“Ah-” Shuichi is about to speak in Japanese, but then he switches to English, in an attempt to be courteous. “Hi, Father,” he says nervously, hearing his voice tremble a little. It’s embarrassing, and he’s completely forgotten the more conversational way to say dad (he’s pretty sure it’s not chichi!) so it’s all he’s got. Even if it makes him sound a little cold. Honestly, he’s not entirely opposed to the idea of coming off that way. As much as he isn’t angry at his father for what happened, he can’t pretend that he isn’t a little bitter.

“Shuichi, I’m so glad to see you.” His father says this in English, perhaps out of respect for Shuichi’s attempt, but then switches over to Japanese as he sweeps his son into a far-tighter-than-necessary hug. “I was worried that you wouldn’t want to come, which would’ve been understandable, considering, but…”

Yeah, Shuichi thinks, like I could’ve said no. Even just asking to stay at a hotel made me feel like I was kicking a hurt puppy. Shuichi might be petty and bitter but he’s not heartless. He knows better than to say no to somebody whose wife just died. (Still, staying in the same house is definitely pushing it. He’s glad to be able to stay in a hotel.)

His father releases him from the rib-crushing hug and his gaze falls on Rantaro, who had to release Shuichi’s hand when the hug was first initiated.

“Oh, who is this? You didn’t tell me you’d be flying in with somebody.” The question is innocent, but it still makes Shuichi’s heart pound a little bit harder. He’s not sure what to say, or how his father is going to respond, but-

“I’m Rantaro Amami.” Rantaro speaks in perfect English, stepping forward and offering a handshake. His usual relaxed smile has appeared on his face. “I’m in Shuichi’s class, but I’m also his partner, so I came along to support, and pay my respects at the funeral.”

Ah… that’s right. Shuichi doesn’t have to worry about Rantaro. Admittedly he only catches bits and pieces of what Rantaro has said because he’s speaking fairly quickly, but the word partner stands out, and Shuichi can’t help but feel appreciative. It’s true, of course- they’re dating, that’s what they decided to try out this week (that still stands) but it’s vague enough that Shuichi’s father could interpret it as a business partnership, or something more platonic, if that’s what he’s looking for. Thank god for Rantaro.

And thank god for the fact that not an ounce of judgement flickers over his father’s features, either, when he accepts the handshake. “Well, I appreciate you flying out like this. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve covered your flight expenses too.”

“No, don’t worry, that’s not a problem for me.” Rantaro’s smile turns a little bit wry, though he doesn’t elaborate, which makes Shuichi think that he’s hesitant to go into detail.

“I could at least cover a room for you at the hotel…?” Shuichi’s father considers it. “Actually… you probably won’t mind sharing, will you?”

So perhaps his father is more perceptive to those things than anticipated. Shuichi finds himself raising his eyebrows, but his hearing turns a little foggy while Rantaro answers, and he doesn’t hear the tail end of the conversation. It’s… it’s not that his father is bad, or anything… actually… he seems like a nice person. A friendly, amicable person. Somebody who Shuichi would be proud to call his father, if not for… if not for the obvious. And he’s like this even after his wife died. He seems to be accepting, and kind enough, and Shuichi hasn’t known him much beyond his movies (which is sad to say of one’s own father but nonetheless) but he picked up on the glint of genuine affection in his father’s eye when he pulled out of the hug.

Which is… it’s causing a hole to open up in the pit of Shuichi’s stomach. His father being kind really isn’t going to work for him, it’s going to make being resentful so much harder. It’s gotten easier to deal with the feelings of bitterness and confusion over the years by hating his parents. But now his mother is dead, and his father seems so nice, he just…

Rantaro’s hand slides into his, and Shuichi comes back down to reality again, blinking a couple times. It doesn’t seem that his father has noticed, because he’s now talking to one of his bodyguards about something or the other, but it’s evident that the adventurer has picked up on Shuichi’s anguish, based on the look he’s getting now. Without a word, Shuichi tucks himself into Rantaro’s side, closing his eyes briefly and swallowing down all the feelings that just surfaced. He can think about it later. Preferably at night, when nobody can see the expression that he’s making, and he can cry without making people feel bad about it.

“Okay!” His father walks back up to them, speaking in Japanese once more. “We’re ready to go. We’re going to drop you off at your hotel, so hop in.”

The fact that Shuichi’s father owns a black SUV already makes him extra, but the sliding glass window that separates him and the driver is almost excruciating. Shuichi has to consciously stop himself from cringing by squeezing Rantaro’s hand, though he can tell that his boyfriend doesn’t really understand this particular plight. But maybe that’s just Rantaro’s upbringing talking. Nonetheless, he’s sure his father is expecting him to make small talk, so he turns his gaze onto the man in question and wonders what to say.

“The funeral is in five days.” Shuichi’s father breaks the silence first, looking through a few papers in his lap. “So until then, you two can just spend some time sightseeing around here. Have you ever been to LA before?” The question is directed to the both of them, so Shuichi shakes his head as Rantaro speaks.

“A couple times, actually. Though the second time was an accident,” Rantaro says this with his usual self deprecating chuckle, and Shuichi’s father smiles, asking for him to continue. “I meant to go to Las Vegas, you know, but I booked my flight late at night, and I’m good at English, I think, but even so… boy was I surprised getting off that plane in California.” He shakes his head. “I had fun, though.”

Shuichi’s father laughs softly, shaking his head. “A common mistake, I’m sure.” Well, not that Shuichi has ever heard of, but perhaps he says it more to be polite to Rantaro than out of a place of understanding. Whatever the intent is, he says it without judgement, and it’s only starting to become even more glaringly obvious how respectful his father is. “I assume you haven’t, son?”

Yeah, Shuichi thinks, startling himself with the bitterness in his own thoughts. Because I didn’t want to come and risk seeing you and mom. Because you and mom never made the effort to fly me out. He swallows down the sudden anger and shakes his head. “No, this is my first time.” He manages with a small smile that he has to wrestle to get on his face. “There’s plenty that I’d like to see here, though.” That much is true, but even if he was lying through his teeth, his father would have no idea. Shuichi isn’t a very good liar (unless it’s for an investigation) but his father doesn’t know him well enough to be able to tell.

Rantaro does, though, and squeezes his hand once again. “I can take you around.” He offers calmly. “There’s still a lot that I haven’t seen, so we can go check out some old places and maybe some new ones.”

“I have a lot scheduled planning the funeral, but,” Shuichi’s father takes out his phone, swiping on the screen as though checking his calendar. “In a couple days, I’ll have some time to show you two around my part of Los Angeles. I think you’ll like it.” He says this to Shuichi, not to Rantaro, and the detective averts his gaze, feeling shame burning in his throat. He can’t stop feeling resentful, and it’s getting harder and harder for him to feel alright about it.

Upon arriving at the hotel, Shuichi’s father is gracious enough to make sure that they have a room with two beds, but once they’re actually inside the room and his father has driven away, Shuichi starts wondering if that’s going to be a good arrangement. Rantaro drops his belongings on the bed near the window, though, so without speaking, Shuichi does the same on the other.

They stand in silence for a moment.

“He’s nice,” Rantaro comments, and though Shuichi is tempted to get mad at his boyfriend for the observation, he’s thinking the same thing, and it would feel unfair to get upset about it. So he just nods, sinking down to sit on the bed. “You were kind of spaced off at the time, but he invited us to eat dinner with him most days this week. Is that something that you’re okay with?”

Shuichi hesitates. “I guess.” It feels wrong for him to sound so reluctant, especially with Rantaro, who doesn’t deserve it, but he can’t stop himself. The inclination to be honest with the other boy is too strong already, and besides that, he just… he just lacks the energy to fake being happy with his father right now.

Rantaro hums, his eyebrows knitting together, before he speaks. “Wanna go somewhere?”

“Hm?” Shuichi looks up, surprised. “We just got here…”

“Yeah, but,” Rantaro looks uncertain for a minute, rubbing his arm with one hand. “That’s true. I just have too much energy right now to be cooped up in one place. I’d like to go somewhere if you’re up to it.”

It’s definitely not a suggestion made on account of Rantaro’s own feelings. Whatever is going through the adventurer’s head right now, it’s that he wants Shuichi to feel better. Not him. Still… going somewhere else and thinking about something else is extremely tempting. So Shuichi swallows and nods. “Okay. I’m up to it. Where are we gonna go?”

Grinning, Rantaro walks over and offers a hand to pull him to his feet. “I’ll show you.”

Chapter Text

“That was lame.” Shuichi states, somewhat flatly, and Rantaro laughs, shaking his head.

They’re walking back to their hotel from the Wall of Fame , which would, hypothetically, be an excellent spot for a date. If, hypothetically, Shuichi and Rantaro were American. And had money on hand to buy tickets. Neither of which were applicable to the situation. So after realising they couldn’t really go inside, they just loitered by a parking meter for about half an hour before Rantaro finally said that they should probably just call it quits.

As much as Shuichi means it when he says it was lame, there are much worse ways for him to have spent his time. The situation gave him the space to think about something arbitrary that didn’t have to do with his parents. And even though it was blaringly obvious that Rantaro had been bluffing earlier and had never been to the Hall of Fame (otherwise he would have come prepared) his intent had been clear enough. To Shuichi, that’s what matters.

Plus, they spent the whole time talking about things that don’t matter, and it’s such a nice change from what he does normally, he could almost ignore everything that had happened over the past twenty four hours. It doesn’t hurt, either, that Rantaro has been holding his hand the whole time.

“I’ll find a different spot for tomorrow.” Rantaro promises, and his face is turned away, but Shuichi can hear the smile in his voice. It’s getting close to seven o’clock in the evening, and the sun is dipping down past the horizon, turning the sky a number of warm colours. The LA skyline is so different than Tokyo’s, but it seems the air pollution is the same. Shuichi snorts at the thought and redirects his attention. “Uh, I don’t think today was one of the days your dad asked us to eat with him,” as they enter the hotel lobby, Rantaro releases Shuichi’s hand to hold the door open for him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, feeling his ears warm a little bit as he ducks under his boyfriend’s arm. “You don’t think? ” He adds, raising an eyebrow. Of course Shuichi doesn’t want to change the tone of the conversation to anything that involves making fun of Rantaro, but banter comes naturally, and Rantaro doesn’t skip a beat in replying.

“It’s possible that he does want us to dine with him, and will be here to pick us up any second. Or he’s been here for fifteen minutes, trying to get a hold of us.” Startled, Shuichi pulls his phone from his pocket, suddenly aware of the possibility, but he hasn’t missed any calls or texts from anybody, so it’s safe to assume that this isn’t the case.

He glares at Rantaro without any real hardness behind his eyes. “You’re a jerk.”

“Haha, yeah I am.” Rantaro grins, wiggling his eyebrows, and it’s such a cute expression that Shuichi’s glare melts into a smile without much effort, which is so unfair, but it’s not like he minds. Shaking his head with a breathy laugh, Shuichi laces his fingers back with Rantaro’s and drags the adventurer over to the stairs.

Normally, he’d take the elevator, but that’s not an option for Rantaro, and based on the way he squeezes Shuichi’s hand, it’s probable that Rantaro has noticed his efforts.

When they arrive in their room and flick on the lights, Shuichi shuffles over to the bed that he was left with earlier that day and drops down to sit on it, sighing. He doesn’t want to complain, so he doesn’t, but despite the long nap he took on the plane, after everything, the detective is exhausted. Even though he is a bit hungry, there’s nothing Shuichi would like more right now than to go to sleep. Regardless of the consequences later. He thinks jet lag is a pretty good excuse for this sluggishness.

And, not, y’know, the obvious- that he’s trying really hard to avoid thinking about something. (There it is again, though, anyway.)

Rantaro seems to sense his fatigue and walks over to stand in front of Shuichi, leaning down and making eye contact. “Are you sleepy? We can just order room service?” It’s phrased like a suggestion but the lilt in Rantaro’s voice makes it sound like a question, giving him a far less certain tone than usual. It’s something that Shuichi has only seen from his boyfriend when they’re alone.

And while he’s tempted to try to work his way into that and over analyse everything, his brain is screaming at him to just stop using it for a bit. Shuichi really doesn’t want to be thinking about pretty much anything right now. All he wants to do is sleep- and, yeah, maybe get some cuddles, if possible. He’s been thinking too much today. And seeing his father, as much as he fantasised about it when he was a lot younger, was everything and nothing that he had expected and hoped it would be. So really his brain is already working overtime to process all that new information. He deserves a nap, if anything.

“Mmh…” Shuichi doesn’t want to get in the way of any hunger Rantaro might be experiencing right now, so he doesn’t act on impulse, but he does find himself yawning, in lieu of a real response, which probably speaks a lot louder than any words or actions he could muster right now.

As understanding dawns in those pretty green eyes, Rantaro’s lips curve into a smile and he blinks twice, peering at Shuichi through his eyelashes. (Unfair! He’s not allowed to do that when Shuichi is tired!) “Or we could just rest.” He offers, and Shuichi nods, because that’s pretty much all he wants right now. The rest can come later. He’s too tired to think about the consequences of his actions, so he just opens his arms, and Rantaro leans forward, wrapping him in a hug.

It’s such an awkward position but Shuichi is entirely unwilling to release the embrace, so Rantaro ends up shuffling around quite a lot before they’re both lying down next to each other on the bed. Last night, when they fell asleep, it was facing each other, like this, and it was comfortable, but halfway through Shuichi got really hot and he could barely breathe. And he doesn’t want to think too hard about anything right now, but he adjusts his position so that his chin is resting on Rantaro’s shoulder, rather than being buried into his arm, and closes his eyes, nuzzling closer.

This is pretty good, he thinks, and without anything else to establish or think about, Shuichi drifts asleep.

When he fell asleep on the plane, he was lucky not to have any dreams. Or, rather, have any dreams that were troubling enough to linger when he woke up again. One usually dreams when they’re asleep, regardless of whether or not those dreams are about to be recalled in consciousness.

But as is often the case in his life, this cycle of good luck is interrupted when he falls asleep now.

Well, it would be an inaccurate assessment to say that Shuichi’s dream is something that he remembers, upon waking, but the feeling of cold, of something hard and unforgiving pressing down on his lungs, and of screaming in his ears- it remains. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. Shuichi isn’t exactly a stranger to panic attacks (as much as he tries not to think about it when he’s awake) and he can recognise that that is what he experiences once he falls into unconsciousness. It’s nothing that he can’t handle, usually- seeing a therapist has provided him with a multitude of good coping mechanisms. But panic attacks in the form of nightmares are a whole different playing field, and without his logic to help him out, he’s virtually defenseless.

Shuichi will later rationalise that the reason this occurred was all of the stress he was internalising throughout the day. Unlike Rantaro, he’s never been the type of person to hold in all his feelings- unless the situation called for it, and even then, he usually let himself cry and feel later. But as much as he’s not ashamed of crying, he still doesn’t think it’s very becoming to express that side of himself in front of his boyfriend after a day and a half of an established relationship, and beyond that, he just… if Shuichi allows his feelings to catch up with him, right now, he knows himself well enough to say he’ll probably want to chicken out.

(Which isn’t really a viable option, now that his father has already flown him out to LA, and paid for their hotel room, and invited them to dinner, and hugged him, saying sincerely how happy he is that Shuichi could be here. )

For the moment, though, there’s no good explanation for what happens. And Shuichi isn’t really in the space to wonder about it. When his eyes flutter open and his senses return to him in full, he gasps, breaking out of Rantaro’s arms as though he’s afraid of suffocating. Seeing as he can’t really breathe at the moment, he thinks it’s a fairly reasonable concern. While Shuichi struggles to choke down a breath, Rantaro jolts awake, asking something unintelligible as he pushes himself to sit up, blinking blearily.

Somewhere through a haze of panic, Shuichi registers guilt.

“What’s wrong?” Rantaro finally seems capable of coherent thought, concern spreading over his features like paint on a blank canvas. It’s too dark for Shuichi to see him clearly, and despite the fact that he’s looking directly at his boyfriend’s face, everything seems blurry. The limited light in the room is casting long shadows across the adventurer’s otherwise handsome features, and the sight is unnerving- but then Rantaro reaches behind him and flicks a switch.

The room is flooded with light at the same time that Shuichi gets his lungs to work again.

“Shuichi-” Rantaro starts, lifting a hand. He stops, though, and Shuichi is glad that he does, because he’s not sure if he can handle being touched right now. If Rantaro continued, which wouldn’t be his fault, Shuichi worries that he might snap or lash out, and then the adventurer could get the wrong idea.

Slowly, the colours in the room lose their sharpness and fade into the background. Squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing hard, Shuichi forces down a couple more breaths, attempting to slow his breathing and calm himself down. He refuses to cry, because it was just a stupid panic attack, but Rantaro deserves an explanation. It takes a couple attempts, but Shuichi manages to make himself speak. “...I’m sorry.” he averts his eyes, putting a hand on the bridge of his nose. On second thought, he might start crying yet. “I-” he’s not sure what to say.

Rantaro’s gaze is understanding, rather than confused, now. “Don’t apologise, I get it,” he speaks kindly, but he still sounds cautious, and Shuichi feels a flutter of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Of course he isn’t easy to deal with when he’s panicking. It’s not like he can communicate properly. It’s only natural that Rantaro would hesitate. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Fine.” Shuichi isn’t sure how true that is, but he wipes his eyes with the back of his wrist and takes another deep, shaky breath. He’s suddenly aware of how stuffy it is in here. “Could you…? Open a window?”

Rather than speaking, Rantaro gets to his feet and he crosses the threshold between the beds and the windows, drawing the curtains and pulling one of them open. Cool air slips into the room and Shuichi shivers, but it makes him feel a little better. His heart rate has begun to return to normal. He glances around the room until his eyes land on the digital clock sitting on the nightstand; based on the colour of the sky and a few other context clues (like what time it was when they fell asleep) despite the fact that the clock isn’t in twenty four hour time and it has no indication of AM or PM, he can guess that it’s around three in the morning.

So he slept for about eight hours. That should be healthy, but being awake right now isn’t going to help with the jet lag. Shuichi hardly notices when Rantaro walks back over and sits down on the floor in front of him. He knows, though, that the adventurer is backing off, and waiting for him to speak. He appreciates the sentiment, but it sure is easier said than done.

“I haven’t had a nightmare like that in a while.” Shuichi admits, rubbing his arm and averting his gaze. He overheated, definitely, but he’s sure that that wasn’t the only factor in what just happened. It was a lot of things. Things that he doesn’t necessarily feel comfortable rehashing right now. “I’m sorry that…” he flounders momentarily, at a loss as to what might be a tactful way to apologise for what Rantaro just witnessed.

Thankfully, Rantaro speaks before he can say anything else. “I told you, don’t apologise. It happens to me all the time.” He smiles, the same relaxed smile that he always wears, but Shuichi can detect something else lurking behind it. “Want to go back to sleep?”

“Ah… no.” Shuichi shakes his head, laughing slightly, but only because there isn’t much of a better way for him to respond. “No, I don’t think so, right now.”

“It’s okay.” Rantaro grins. “I didn’t either, really.” He pauses, then scratches the back of his head. “We can watch TV, if you want? Or there’s a cafe nearby that I saw was open twenty four hours…”

“That sounds nice.” When it occurs to Shuichi that his response is awfully vague, he elaborates. “I mean, the cafe thing. I would be… I mean, I’d like to- I’d like that,” he stammers out, cursing himself for how uncertain he sounds. The idea of getting some coffee or something right now really does appeal and it would be very easy for Rantaro to misconstrue his feelings based on the way he just responded. But graciously, the adventurer just nods and gets to his feet, stretching.

“Mkay. You should grab a coat, too. I think it’s kind of chilly out there…” he glances out the window, almost wistly, and Shuichi feels a smile starting to cross onto his expression. Rantaro is always acting with other people’s needs in mind. It’s reassuring. Listening to this, he feels a lot safer than he imagined he would when he first got off the phone with his father yesterday.

The cafe that Rantaro takes him to is nice. At least, Shuichi likes it. It’s small, and the woman behind the counter is reading a book. When Rantaro steps up to her, she speaks in English, and for the most part Shuichi can understand what she says- but he still lets his boyfriend handle the communication aspect of the situation. (As much as he likes hearing Rantaro speak in English, though, it just reminds him of how much he would like to get better at this language.) Even though he can’t fully understand what the woman is saying, he can still hear that she sounds exhausted and fed up, so he pulls out his wallet without really thinking and pulls one of the five dollar bills his uncle had him exchange his yen for at the airport to give as a tip.

Tipping, by the way? Utterly confusing to Shuichi, but he knows enough of foreign customs to understand that this is something that Americans do often. In Japan, giving a tip is considered to be an insult to the owner- suggesting that they don’t treat their workers properly. Even if this is the case, the insinuation is quite disrespectful, and it can reflect badly on the worker, as well. Most of the time, you’d show your respect for your server or the person behind the register in a different way. But apparently it’s just common knowledge in America that people in customer service jobs don’t get paid very well. It’s customary to leave a tip. Is five dollars too much considering that their total, in American dollars, was 10.76? Perhaps. Shuichi is new to this.

Still, she smiles when she seems him do so, and thanks him in English- that, mercifully, Shuichi does understand, and he is able to respond with a “You’re welcome,” as clearly as he can in English. She doesn’t seem to be confused, so he considers that interaction to be a win.

Their drinks come quickly. It’s not surprising, considering that there are only two other people in the cafe right now. One of them is a teenage girl with electric blue hair who is messing around on a guitar; the other a homeless man, asleep by the window with a cup of what must be cold coffee sitting untouched in front of him. Shuichi feels a pang of sympathy in his gut. Of course, there are homeless people in Japan, too- the problem doesn’t appear to be as widespread as it is in LA, because this isn’t the first homeless person they’ve encountered, but it’s still… sad. He understands that even some of his peers have spent a portion of their time homeless.

None of his business, though. Shuichi distracts himself by sliding his hand into Rantaro’s as they carry their drinks over to a couple soft looking chairs further into the cafe. There are still windows nearby, prompting Shuichi to almost immediately engage in staring out at the sidewalk, but they aren’t so close to the entrance, which he considers to be a win.

Shuichi blows on the top of his cup and takes a slow sip of his drink. He ordered something simple, and familiar- a mocha. They’re dependably good and usually not too sweet, so it’s kind of his default. He doesn’t go to cafes often, because even before Hope’s Peak he’d usually just brew his own coffee, but he’s also just not a large fan of anything super fancy. There are all sorts of terms that he’s unfamiliar with when it comes to coffee, and he’d rather stick to his roots. For him, that generally means coffee with a dollop of cream and no sugar. (He can’t really stand things that are too sweet.)

It tastes good. Virtually unrecognisable to his taste buds, though he suspects that this is as a result of his not having had a mocha in a while rather than his being in a different country, but he likes the flavour. It’s bitter enough that he’s not cringing away from the mug, but the chocolatey taste is impossible to ignore, and it’s nice. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest and he relaxes. This really was a good idea, on Rantaro’s part. Speaking of the adventurer, Shuichi lifts his gaze to thank him, but finds Rantaro’s green eyes already focused on his face.

“Ah,” Shuichi intones, embarrassed. Rantaro smiles, entirely unabashed at having been caught staring. Though this is just another thing that is damn unfair, Shuichi supposes he can let it slide. His lips relax into a lazy smile of their own. “Thank you for taking me here. I’m feeling better.” He speaks quietly, without any preface, because he assumes they’re on the same page.

Rantaro doesn’t prove him wrong. “I’d hoped so.” He blows on his own drink, which Shuichi notes is some variety of chai. (He should’ve paid more attention to his boyfriend’s order.) “That article I read that told me to drink something warm after nightmares seems to have been accurate after all.”

Brow furrowing, Shuichi pauses to ponder what exactly Rantaro is referring to… then it occurs to him. “That’s… why you were in the dining hall drinking tea, then. You… Googled it?” He can’t help snorting when the words come out of his mouth. There isn’t any shame in looking it up when one is uncertain of how to conduct themselves, but the notion is still pretty silly. Rantaro shrugs.

“Yeah. I think you’ve already figured out that I’m pretty bad at this, haha.” He says it lightly, but Shuichi takes the words more seriously than perhaps he should, a frown touching his features. He places his mug on the table and leans forward to kiss Rantaro on the cheek.

“No.” He shakes his head, though he has to physically stop himself from smiling at the flustered expression that crosses over Rantaro’s face. (Shuichi supposes he’s unused to the detective being so forward. But they’ve only been together for a day and a half, so nothing is out of the question.) “You always seem to know what to say or do when I’m feeling upset. Don’t self deprecate so much. You’re better at this than you think.”

Chuckling, Rantaro brushes a couple pieces of hair out of Shuichi’s eyes. “You shouldn’t be reassuring me right after you had a panic attack.” He doesn’t mention the obvious, which is that they’re only there because of Shuichi’s mother’s funeral. (Shuichi is glad that he neglects to do so.)

“I do what I want,” he proclaims, with an air of confidence rather uncharacteristic of him. Rantaro snorts, and Shuichi can’t help laughing a little himself, because they both know that he’s far too inhibited by his anxiety and perceived shortcomings to truly do things without reservation. Still, it’s nice to joke about. And perhaps something to strive for. Maybe he’ll get there someday. For now, this isn’t so bad.

The next couple days go by a lot more quickly than Shuichi originally expected them to. He thought that being in Los Angeles would be excruciating- perhaps the mere association with his parents served as a turnoff for him for so long that he had, in his head, convinced himself entirely that there was nothing in LA worth his time. As it turns out, though, this couldn’t be further from the truth.

For the most part, Rantaro shows him places that the adventurer admits he’s already visited before. As much as it might just be a walk through a memory for Rantaro, Shuichi surprises himself with how engaged he is in visiting all of these places. For the most part, they’re little pockets of the large city that are natural spaces. Lakes, ponds, little pieces of forest, et cetera. Those types of things do seem to be more Rantaro’s speed. But there are also a number of other tourist attractions, and even just small spaces that Shuichi wouldn’t have noticed on his own.

What really captures his attention, though, is the way that Rantaro is through it all. There’s a certain energy he gets when he’s exploring a place, or looking around, that Shuichi’s almost never seen emulated while they’ve both been at Hope’s Peak Academy. It’s hard to describe- an odd mixture of wistfulness, curiosity, intrigue, and… sadness. Probably regarding his sisters. Shuichi doesn’t want to bring it up (especially not on what is already such an emotionally charged trip) but he does put it away for later contemplation. It’s something they should talk about.

Rather than be unnerved by the sudden change, though, Shuichi is… compelled. He’s always been a sucker for a mystery- it’s admittedly what drew him to Rantaro in the first place- but seeing a whole new side of his boyfriend now just makes him want to see more. It’s incredibly energising, being around Rantaro when he’s like that. It makes everything that happens throughout that week that much more exciting.

Something that has been less exciting, however, has been (predictably) the time that Shuichi has been spending with his father. None of it has been alone, of course- Rantaro has made sure of that much. But his father has been… like a father, throughout the week, and it hasn’t been making Shuichi feel any better than it did at the airport.

“So,” Shuichi’s father prompts at dinner. It’s their third day in Los Angeles, meaning that the funeral is in two days, and they’re only just getting to dine together. This also means that it’s Shuichi’s first time ever being in his parents’ house. (Well, just his father’s house, now, but he’d prefer not to think about that.) And if he’s being completely honest with himself, he doesn’t hate the atmosphere. The house is rather big, which he imagines could get pretty stifling if he spends too much time in it, but it’s warm, and rather than boasting their achievements, the walls are decorated with pictures of Shuichi’s parents, and some of their friends, and even a couple of Shuichi’s uncle and his wife.

Also… a picture of Shuichi, above one of the couches in the sitting room. Shuichi remembers the day that that picture was taken, but he doesn’t remember the moment- he must have been twelve years old, which meant it was a little bit before he started cracking down on detective work, and he still has a wide, carefree smile on his face in it as he talks to somebody outside of the frame about something he can’t remember. It’s upsetting for a number of reasons, but most of all… how did his parents even get that picture? Shuichi doesn’t have the guts to ask, but he’d like to. When Rantaro spots it, he squeezes his hand.

“How have you been liking LA thus far?” His father continues. Infuriatingly, he even has good table manners; he waited until he had finished what was in his mouth before speaking, and he sits properly at the table. In a frustratingly thoughtful gesture, Shuichi’s father had his cook prepare Japanese food tonight. (That, at least, is one thing that Shuichi can feel irritated about. All the money his parents have.) He uses chopsticks well, though it’s evident to Shuichi’s trained eyes that he’s a little bit rusty. Not everyone is perfect, he supposes.

He surprises himself by answering honestly. “I’ve liked it.” Shuichi says, lowering his chopsticks and resting them on the edge of his plate. His stomach feels too tight to eat right now, and as good as the food is, he’s certain he’s not even going to finish the minimal amount that he took onto his plate. He continues, though, because giving such a bland response will put his father into an uncomfortable position. “It’s a large city. Not as large as Tokyo, to my understanding, but I wouldn’t mind living here. There is definitely a lot to see.”

“I’m not a very good tour guide,” Rantaro smiles, which is a fat lie, but Shuichi just drinks some water and doesn’t correct him. “But I’ve been trying to show your son as much as I remember.”

Nodding, Shuichi’s father responds. “Have you seen anything new yourself, Rantaro?” He speaks so kindly, like he’s addressing a new member of the family who he thinks has great potential… it’s almost painful. “I hope you’ve been able to have some fun yourself.”

“It’s lots of fun showing Shuichi around.” Rantaro’s smile turns into a grin as he says this, and glances over at Shuichi, who is momentarily distracted by how attractive his smile is- though it fades quickly and he focuses on the conversation. “But I have seen a couple new places! You know, we went to the Hall of Fame the other day.”

“Ugh.” Shuichi groans, shaking his head. “That was such a buzzkill.”

“I had a similar experience.” Shuichi’s father laughs, deep and hearty. “Which is annoying, considering that I know a lot of the people who have names in there.” Shuichi swallows, reminding himself for the fourth time that evening that his father is still a famous actor, despite how dad-like he’s been acting this week. “But there’s plenty else here that I’m sure you haven’t seen. My son is right that LA is a big city!”

The conversation segues, as always, and Shuichi spaces out a little bit. It felt so odd, hearing his father call him his son… that’s what he is, obviously, but… actually hearing it is completely different. As petty as it seems, Shuichi can’t help feeling a little angry about it. And at his father. Being angry at his father is pretty uncomfortable as a whole, especially considering how kind the man is appearing to be, but… he can’t really help it. And it’s justified, he knows.

Right…? Up until a few days ago, there was no doubt that Shuichi’s anger was justified. Perfectly understandable. But… now, considering everything… he’s not so sure. Should he still be angry? Even after his father has spent so much time being so kind?

“Shuichi?” Rantaro’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “You okay? What are you thinking about?”

Blinking, Shuichi struggles to figure out something that wouldn’t betray his internal conflict. “A-Ah… nothing, don’t worry about it.” He forces a weak smile, and from the way Rantaro’s eyes narrow, he definitely knows it’s a lie. But Shuichi’s father buys it, changing the subject to something lighthearted and easy to engage with. His father has no way of knowing how he’s feeling. No matter how friendly he acts.

Maybe that’s the problem.

Chapter Text

The day of Shuichi’s mother’s funeral comes faster than he expects it to.

Which isn’t to say that he thought time would drag along like molasses; honestly, coming to Los Angeles, Shuichi wasn’t really sure what to expect. But he feels like it’s still his first night in California, drinking a mocha at that small twenty four hour cafe and sitting across from his boyfriend- until he wakes up early in the morning to the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.

Blinking groggily, Shuichi sits up, at first unsure of why he’s being woken up so early. But then he refocuses his gaze and meets Rantaro’s green eyes, the guilty smile that goes with them, and he puts two and two together. Making a displeased noise in the back of his throat, Shuichi almost just drops back into the bed. On most days, if the prospect of waking felt too scary, that’s exactly what he’d do. But he knows better, at this very moment, than to think that he could get away with it. Rantaro is really good at pep talks, it turns out, so if he so much as tried, he’d probably just end up feeling bad for making the adventurer waste his energy.

“What time is it?” He asks, even though he can easily just check the clock on the nightstand. Instead of telling him as much, Rantaro simply sits down next to him and looks, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“...around six? Your father will be here in an hour, so I figured I’d get you up so you could shower.” He turns his gaze back on Shuichi, smiling. In the dim light of the room, Shuichi can just barely make out the mischief in his boyfriend’s smile. “I already got my turn, so,” Rantaro accentuates his point by flicking water into Shuichi’s face with both hands.

“Hey!” Shuichi complains, laughing anyway (which probably takes the merit out of his complaint). He wipes the water from his face with the back of his hand and nudges Rantaro’s shoulder, pulling his best reproachful look. “It’s too early for that.”

“Ohhh, I know.” Rantaro nods seriously, leaning closer and pulling Shuichi into a hug. “But you’re cute when you’re indignant.”

So Shuichi’s ears are starting out the day bright red. He knows what Rantaro is doing, of course. He’s trying to distract him from what’s coming up in the day. As much as trying to think about something other than what’s making him anxious will only make him think about it more, Shuichi would be lying if he said that he doesn’t appreciate it. He’d much rather focus on how good Rantaro’s hair smells after the shower than what’s going to happen today. With that in mind, he reciprocates the hug, pressing his face into his boyfriend’s hair for a moment.

Then he pulls back, because his shirt is getting wet and he should probably shower. “Stop stealing the hotel shampoo.” Shuichi says as he stands up, walking over to the closet in their room and pulling out one of the large white towels. While planning five days ago, he hadn’t actually thought to grab a towel. Rantaro had done as much, but he figures, why worry about it when the hotel already has many available for him to use? He’s been trying to use them sparingly, though, because he doesn’t want to leave more work for the hotel staff than he already has.

He stops by his own belongings as well, pulling out the clothing he had thought to pack at the beginning of the week; the nicest shirt he owns, a pair of slacks, and a tie. He also has a vest, a suit jacket, and nicer shoes, but he can put those on post shower. Shuichi also grabs another pair of boxers and his toiletries, figuring he might as well shave and brush his teeth while he’s in there. (He doesn’t grow a lot of facial hair, but he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days and he figures showing up to his mother’s funeral with stubble would be pretty distasteful.)

Rantaro’s laugh follows him into the bathroom. “It’s there, though! And everyone else does it.”

“It’s still frowned upon.” Shuichi makes a face, but loses the expression for a moment, distracted by his fondness for the boy still sitting in the other room. He puts a hand on the doorway, smiling at Rantaro- the adventurer, though, is still focused on the conversation as he protests.

“I’ll have you know that Kaede always steals the shampoo from hotels.”

“Just because Kaede doesn’t it, that doesn’t make it okay!” Shuichi exclaims, and Rantaro bursts out laughing, at which point the detective closes the bathroom door, pouting. He doesn’t really care. It makes Rantaro’s hair smell really good and he knows that the hotels aren’t going to reuse those small shampoos anyway. It’s still fun to needle Rantaro about, though, so he persists.

Shuichi shaves before going into the shower, because the last thing he wants is hair all over the place after he’s gotten clean, and the task requires enough focus that he’s able to avoid thinking about anything in particular for as long as he is doing it. But as soon as he strips his clothes and steps into the shower, his thoughts become overrun.

He’s conflicted, of course, about a number of things- he would be, even without the looming prospect of his mother’s funeral, considering how his father has been acting- but at the moment, it feels like his emotions are reaching a peak. His father said that it would be an open casket funeral. Which, in theory, would be fine. It provides more opportunities for closure, or whatever. But that information has been stuck in his mind since he received it and every time he returns to it, he feels more of that agonising anxiety pooling in his gut.

Back when he first received the news of his mother’s death, he talked it out with Rantaro, and he came to a conclusion. Whatever feelings he was experiencing were alright. He was allowed to feel angry about the fact that his mother was never in his life, and angry at himself for feeling angry at her post mortem. He had accepted that he may never be at peace with what happened, and even though it sucked, everybody around him was quick to smother him in assurances that he never had to be okay with it. Kaito even weighed in with his own experience, talking about how he wasn’t okay with his mother’s death either, and that had been years ago.

It was a little bit different, considering how Kaito had had a good relationship with his mother and Shuichi hadn’t had a relationship with his mother in general, but he was still able to appreciate the sentiment. Those things just don’t go away. No matter how much you are able to process them, grief and anger don’t ever entirely vanish, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

At this point, it’s not a matter of being okay with all those feelings. It’s just the fact that he’s having them that is so troubling at the moment. Knowing that he’s going to see his mother’s body in under five hours makes a lump rise in Shuichi’s throat. He knows that he’s going to go there and see his mother in person for the first time in over a decade. The only experience he’ll ever have had hearing and seeing his mother would be through interviews she’s done, about movies that she’s written. And while he thought he was okay with it, he isn’t.

Plain and simple, except it’s not, because Shuichi knows that he’s going to be meeting all these people who loved his mother, and he’ll be traveling in the hearse, and he’ll have to spend a day smiling and acting like he knew and loved his mother in the same way that everyone else did. He and his father still haven’t talked about the whole abandonment thing. He hasn’t been issued an apology. As much as he sometimes acts like it, Shuichi isn’t alright with it. He’ll never be alright with it, and his parents aren’t forgiven. He wants to forgive his mother, but it’s hard, seeing how successful and happy she was without him. Now, especially, because he’s going to have to pretend.

He’s worried that this funeral is going to mean that he’ll have to confront all of those unresolved emotions that he’s experiencing right now. He’s been trying to keep all those feelings inside because god knows Rantaro has already seen way too much of that side of him but he can tell that the resistance he’s built up in his gut is weakening with every day that passes and now the funeral is in a couple hours and he just…

There’s a knock at the bathroom door. “Shuichi, you alright?” Rantaro’s voice. He sounds relaxed, and low-pressure, but there’s a little bit of concern there too. Shuichi wonders how long he’s been in here, for Rantaro to want to check in on him. (Then again, while he doesn’t really take very long showers unless he’s feeling badly, there’s no way for Rantaro to know about that, so… it’s possible that he has a sixth sense? Shuichi snorts to himself. It’s pointless speculating.)

“Ah, y-yes.” Shuichi responds, running a hand through his hair. He’s been in the shower long enough for his fingers to prune. “I’ll be out soon.”

“Take your time, I was just checking in.” He can hear the sigh of relief, though, as much as Rantaro is likely attempting to hide it for Shuichi’s sake.

Humming his agreement, Shuichi puts a stop to his thoughts for now and focuses on soaping up and scrubbing his hair with shampoo more quickly so he can get out to where Rantaro will serve as a good distraction. At least until they leave for the funeral. He soaps up twice but at that point Shuichi is about ready to leap out from the bathtub regardless of readiness so he shuts off the water as soon as he’s done washing it all off and pulls aside the curtain, stepping out onto the mat outside.

After toweling himself down, Shuichi gets dressed, avoiding eye contact with himself in the mirror. It’s foggy, anyway, because of the precipitation from the shower, but Shuichi still finds himself unwilling to look at his face right now. That feels like confronting something else entirely. By the time he gets to his tie, he finds his hands shaking too hard to tie it properly, so he just sighs and lets it hang around his neck for the moment. He grabs his dirty clothes from the floor, tucking them under his arm, and steps out of the bathroom into the bedroom, flicking off the light as he goes.

The lamp is on now, and Rantaro is standing near the window, but at the sound of Shuichi reentering, he turns around, smiling. “The water here doesn’t really get cold, have you noticed that? I’ve been in a lot of places where the showers are super unreliable, or don’t have hot water at all.” He seems to ponder his own words, rubbing the back of his neck. “Suffice to say that the high points of those areas aren’t their bathrooms.”

“You do spend a lot of time in spots that aren’t in the city, so that sounds reasonable.” Shuichi responds idly as he shoves his clothes into his backpack. He’ll worry about sorting his pajamas from his underwear later. Instead of focusing on it, he looks over to Rantaro, smiling slightly. “You look nice.”

It’s true; Rantaro packed a grey suit, and it makes him look crisp. His cheeks are still slightly flushed from his shower half an hour ago and his eyes are sparkling, likely still as a result of the things he just expressed about the shower. His tie is green, which compliments his eyes nicely. Despite the change in attire, he’s still wearing his rings, bracelets, and earrings… which Shuichi supposes he would look odd without.

“Thank you.” Rantaro maintains his smile and crosses the room to stand in front of Shuichi, straightening his collar. “You want help tying your tie?”

“Ah, no, I’ve got it…” he mumbles, fiddling with the end of it. It’s his uncle’s tie, actually, a dark blue one with abstract grey patterns. Shuichi has his own ties, but most of them belong to school uniforms, and this was the one his uncle brought for him short notice. He likes it, anyway, and it’s not like his father will realise that it’s not his. (That’s a bit of a sad thought, but Shuichi chooses not to dwell on it.) Despite his saying that he’s got it, Rantaro reaches out and starts tying it anyway. Shuichi’s ears redden again but he doesn’t say anything else, instead choosing to watch his boyfriend’s fingers work deftly at typing the knot.

“I know you can tie it yourself.” Rantaro says, smoothing it down against Shuichi’s chest once he’s finished. “I just wanted to do it for you.”

Humming, Shuichi reaches up to wrap his arms around Rantaro’s neck and pull him down into a kiss, in lieu of a response. Obligingly, Rantaro tilts his head forward and places his hands lightly on Shuichi’s lower back. His hands are warm, and Shuichi feels goosebumps rising on his skin at the contact- albeit through fabric. Now isn’t really a good time for kissing, so they won’t be able to go much further than what they’re doing right now, but it’s alright. He doesn’t need much else, he’s just craving the close physical contact at the moment. It helps dispel the bad feelings, but only slightly, and eventually, it’s Rantaro who pulls back, and not him.

Resting his forehead against Shuichi’s, Rantaro rubs his hands up and down the detective’s back. “Alright there?” He asks quietly, and as much as he wants to talk about everything he’s feeling right now, Shuichi tugs away his gaze, biting at the inside of his cheek. If he lets out those feelings, he’ll definitely start crying, and there’s a time and a place for that, and this isn’t it.

“Can we talk about it later?” Shuichi responds with another question, forcing himself to meet Rantaro’s green eyes. The adventurer scans his gaze for a moment, expression unreadable, but eventually nods, and connects their lips again in another kiss. This one is shorter than the other one, because Shuichi still has to finished getting dressed and there’s probably more to do before his father arrives, but he stretches out the seconds in his mind, knowing that he’s not going to have a quiet moment like this for the rest of the day.

And then he pulls back, because they’ve got things to do.

The ride to in the hearse is silent, which Shuichi is grateful for, because he doesn’t trust himself to make conversation with his father right now. And unlike how he’s been for the past week, Shuichi’s father has been silent the whole time; only speaking when Shuichi and Rantaro got into the car. Even then, he barely said a word. He’s clutching a necklace in his lap, and his face is pale, and he’s staring out the window with a lost expression on his face. Shuichi recognises it. He’s seen it in the people who come into his uncle’s office when it’s been months but they’ve got nowhere else to go and they don’t think they’re going to be okay until it’s laid to rest.

Perhaps this funeral, for his father, represents his mother being laid to rest. Shuichi has to consciously stop himself from trying to comfort the man, because he just looks so small and sad right now, despite his large movie personality. It feels like sitting in a car with a stranger. Which is what it is, really, but… this past week hasn’t been like this.

In other words, the atmosphere in the hearse is stifling, and Shuichi is almost glad when they arrive at the cemetery. The relief evaporates almost immediately, however, when he’s actually getting out of the car and watching some of the workers his father hired carrying out his mother’s casket. He doesn’t want to look at the body yet, or the box it’s being held in, so instead, he turns his gaze to the large crowds of people who are standing next to the hole that has been dug for the body.

Shuichi knows enough about American pop culture to identify a few of the celebrities who are here- he’d even hazard a guess and say that all of the attendees are in fact celebrities- but he barely recognises any of their faces. They’re all wearing black clothing that looks more expensive than anything Shuichi has ever owned. His uncle and his wife raised him humble, certainly, and maybe that’s sad considering who his parents are, but he’s never had a problem with it. He just feels out of place, right now, at the sight of them. When a few of the people standing by notice the casket being brought over to be placed next to the hole, they bring handkerchiefs to their eyes, dabbing away tears.

It’s… odd. Logically, Shuichi knew that there would be people crying here, but to actually see it, it’s…

Turning over to Rantaro, he wonders if it would be acceptable to take his boyfriend’s hand. Suddenly his heart feels like it’s going to break a hole in his rib cage and it’s getting increasingly hard for him to swallow down the lump in his throat. If he starts crying, that… it only takes one look at his father’s ashen face to stop Shuichi from breaking down. As much as he resents his father, his heart is telling him he has to stay strong for that man’s sake.

The words feel ugly, even just in his head, but he takes a deep breath and sucks it up. He knew this was going to happen. He’ll just have to live through it.

Once everything has been put in place, and the priest has taken his spot next to the casket (half of the lid has been opened by the workers), the funeral starts. As much as Shuichi has been trying to work on his understanding of English this week, he’s completely lost at what the priest is saying. He’s hearing a couple words that he recognises vaguely- Heaven, and Holy Spirit- but otherwise, he finds himself staring instead at his mother’s face, as much as he doesn’t want to.

He’s not standing too close to her body, so the details are a little unclear, but he can tell that whoever dressed the body took great care to erase all of her flaws. Make her look like a goddess, so that the final image of her that is received by the world is one of a beautiful woman. Her skin is made paler by the foundation, though, and Shuichi wonders if that is a result of death, or if that is another part of herself that she decided to forsake when she came to America. The makeup on her face is immaculate, and she does look beautiful. But she almost doesn’t look human. It’s a little unnerving, seeing her eyes closed, like that. She looks like she’s at peace. But Shuichi isn’t sure if that’s the case.

The priest finishes speaking and gestures for Shuichi’s father to step forward. He does so, with halting steps, and Shuichi wonders if his father is going to cry. (He supposes… that he couldn’t be blamed.)

Whatever his father says, it is almost incomprehensible. And not because it’s in English, either, but because his voice is so thick with tears, Shuichi can barely make out a word the man says. Something twists in his gut and furiously he tries to shove down the emotions, because they are so new and induce something entirely unpleasant. He can’t understand the words that are being spoken but he can hear the sadness, and the pain, in his voice. The raw emotion. Shuichi doesn’t feel the same way, or at least… he hasn’t, for the past several months. But hearing it from his father, he starts to wonder if that’s really the truth.

Once his father has finished speaking, the guests are invited to line up and walk over to pay their respects to her for the last time. Shuichi watches everybody shuffle over to do so, but he hangs back, trying to force himself to suck in a couple of breaths. Rantaro has already moved over to get in line, and Shuichi knows that he should do the same, but…

“Shuichi Saihara, right?” Somebody behind him speaks to him in English and he turns around, making eye contact with a short, blue-eyed woman. There is so much pain in her face that Shuichi manages to overlook how horribly she butchered the pronunciation of his name with her American accent. “You were her son?”

Shuichi nods, uncertainly. He’s not sure if he can hold a full conversation with her, in English, or if he even trusts himself to speak, but it turns out that he doesn’t have to, because she’s stepping forward and hugging him tight.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, you flew in from Japan, right? That’s what your father has been telling me… you look just like her, you know? You must miss her.” Shuichi is startled, but he hugs back, nervously trying to process the words that have come out of her mouth. He thinks he gets the gist of what she’s said, but… he swallows. Miss her? Does he miss his mother? How can he miss what he’s never had?

He forces a smile, but it must look chagrined, because when she pulls away and looks at him, there is so much sympathy in her eyes. “W-Were you… a friend of hers?” Shuichi asks in English, his voice shaking. She nods, wiping tears from her eyes. (Her eyes are so blue, he half wonders if she’s wearing contact lenses.)

“That’s right. She was absolutely wonderful. I’m so sorry.” She gives his upper arm one last squeeze before pulling away entirely, starting to walk to get in line. “Thank you so much for flying in.”

As much as Shuichi is taken off guard by that encounter, he has to regain his composure quickly, because as soon as she’s stepped into the line, another woman takes her place, and then a man after her, and several other men and women who all blur together in his mind. He doesn’t have the strength to carry his father’s grief, or his own, for that matter, but all of a sudden these people with their teary eyes and their condolences are placing theirs on his shoulders, and Shuichi feels utterly tongue tied. He’s spacing out through all of the mostly one-sided conversations until a girl his age stops in front of him and immediately hugs him tight.

“Your mom was like a mother to me, but I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now. I’m sorry, I know she loved you so much.” She whispers into his ear as she keeps him in the embrace, and Shuichi feels his heart give a couple last feeble pulses before sputtering to a stop in his chest. A cold feeling spreads through his veins and he swallows hard once, twice, then three times, trying to muster the energy to hug the girl back because he has to, he can’t just-

Suddenly she pulls away and walks off to where other adults are standing, talks to one of them as she wipes tears from her eyes. Shuichi tears his gaze away, trying to process what just happened, but everything feels foggy and distant through his ears and he can barely choke down a breath. All he can hear is his blood rushing in his ears, and holy crap, he’s going to faint. There’s something pressing down on his lungs. His temples are pounding and pain is starting to register in his head and-

“Shuichi.” A hand slips into his, and green eyes are suddenly right in front of his face, breath tickling his nose. “Are you okay?”

Blinking a couple times, Shuichi tries to come back down to reality enough to give a response. “I-” he manages, sucking in a breath. “I can’t- I can’t stay here.” He squeezes his eyes shut, forces down another breath, then two, and then he chokes on the lump in his throat. Tears are burning the corners of his eyes and he’s in real danger of hiccuping right now. “R-Rantaro, I- I gotta go home.”

“Do you want me to take you back to the hotel?” Rantaro asks softly, and suddenly his other hand is on Shuichi’s shoulder, not squeezing hard enough to hurt but tight enough to bring him back to reality.

“No, I want-” Shuichi opens his eyes again, trying to stop the tears before they escape his eyes. “I want to go home to Japan. I don’t wanna be here anymore.” Somewhere in the corner of his eye he can see his father standing next to the coffin, staring down at his mother’s body. He can’t, he has to get out of here. He can’t talk to these people anymore, or act like his parents didn’t leave him, or feel this grief and guilt over people who abandoned him. “Please, Rantaro, I wanna go home.”

“I-” Rantaro makes a face, like it hurts him to hear those words. “We can’t go back to Japan just yet, Shuichi. You’ll be upset later, if you let me take you back home right now.”

Some rational part of Shuichi’s brain tells him that Rantaro is right, and he can’t just leave California without a word. He’ll feel terrible about it later, about leaving his father when he is perhaps needed the most. But he can’t be here, right now. Staying at the funeral sounds unbearable, and as much as Shuichi wants to avoid doing something he’ll regret, there’s no way that he will be able to continue if he doesn’t get out of here right this second. “Th-Then, back to the hotel. Please. I need to-” he can’t even finish the thought. He doesn’t know what he needs to do.

But Rantaro doesn’t seem like he wants a response. He just reaches out and sweeps Shuichi’s legs out from under him, picking him up and cradling him against his chest. In the back of his mind, Shuichi registers surprise at suddenly being carried like this, but everywhere else, he just feels relief. If he closes his eyes tight and buries his face into Rantaro’s chest, he can pretend that he’s somewhere else, safe from all the feelings that he’s having to face right now. He can pretend that he’s not at his mother’s funeral, and pretend that his entire perspective of the kind of people his parents were hasn’t changed.

Maybe, if he just indulges in this false sense of security, all the bad feelings will disappear.

Chapter Text

Shuichi must fall asleep on the trip back to the hotel, because as far as he’s concerned, he closes his eyes and presses his face into Rantaro’s chest one moment, only to open them back up again to being sat down on the bed they’ve been sharing the past five nights. The mattress is still warm from that morning; it hasn’t been that long since they were here, and he half wants to crawl back under the covers and close his eyes over everything that happened today, but also…

It feels like he’s going to burst if he holds everything in for any longer. Shuichi figures that it’s probably safe now, and he could get away with bursting into tears, but… as much as there is a lump in his throat, he doesn’t feel like he can cry. He’s held in his tears for too long. It doesn’t seem like they’ve abated, but they’re not fighting to escape his eyes anymore. That’s probably good, but Shuichi almost wishes he could let out a couple tears. He doesn’t like feeling like this, like he’s only half real.

Rantaro kneels down in front of him, taking his hands, which Shuichi vaguely notices were tangled in his shirt. The adventurer relaxes his fingers and presses light kisses to his knuckles before meeting his eyes. Shuichi can read the concern there, clear as day.

“What are you thinking?” Rantaro asks faintly, taking both of Shuichi’s hands into one of his as he reaches up with his other hand to cup the detective’s cheek.

Swallowing and closing his eyes, Shuichi runs over a number of good responses in his head before he finally settles on one. “I… I almost don’t know how to feel.” He murmurs, leaning into Rantaro’s hand. He can feel the brush of some of Rantaro’s rings against his cheek; they’re cool on his skin. It’s a nice feeling. “I’m… confused. Everything this week has been so confusing.”

“I thought so too.” Rantaro responds in a hushed voice, brushing strands of hair out of Shuichi’s eyes with his thumb. “Anything in particular ailing you right now?”

“...mmh.” Shuichi doesn’t open his eyes, because he doesn’t want to see the expression that Rantaro is making right now. “A bunch of people came up to me, while we were there. They told me that they… were sorry, that my mother died.” His voice cracks, but he’s not in danger of crying. Not at the moment. “They hugged me, and told me that she was a good person, and that I look just like her.” Shuichi falters momentarily. “There was this girl, m-my age, who… she said my mom was like hers.”

“Oh.” Rantaro breathes, and though Shuichi’s eyes are closed, he can hear the disdain. (It’s… odd. He’s never hear Rantaro sound so openly distasteful before.)

“I want to hate her. I did, for so long, you know? She left me behind, it’s not fair that she should die and I should feel so bad about it.” He’s already been over this, Rantaro already knows, but that doesn’t make it any less true. “A-And hearing about… about how everybody was s-so sorry for me, and how I must be feeling so terrible, and she was such a good person and everyone is absolutely b-broken over her death, I-I-” Shuichi shudders, full body, and feels Rantaro’s grip on his hand tighten. “I…” Swallowing despite the lump in his throat, he attempts to take a breath, understanding that he might regain some composure if he forces himself to breathe.

It takes a moment for Shuichi to figure out how to string together the words that are bouncing around in his head. Rantaro is completely silent throughout, maintaining a tight hold on his hand, and though Shuichi is almost afraid to open his eyes and face the expression on his boyfriend’s face, he can feel the warmth radiating off of Rantaro’s body, there at his legs. He can picture the pained expression he must be making, the way his gaze flickers around the room but always ends up resting on Shuichi’s face.

Clearing his throat, the detective manages to make himself continue. “And… my father, too, I’m confused about how… about how he’s been acting? I don’t… I don’t understand why he should… be acting so kind to me.” Shuichi bites his lip, feels Rantaro’s hand drop from his face. Maybe to give him space. But their fingers stay intertwined. “He- He’s not fitting the image of him that I’ve had in my head, a-all my life, and it- it’s confusing, to me. He seems like such a nice guy, and a g-good dad, and that’s not fair, is it?” He does open his eyes now, searching Rantaro’s face for confirmation, but of course there’s nothing there.

Softly, Rantaro asks, “Why isn’t it fair?”

Albeit a little frustrated that he has to explain this, Shuichi speaks. “Because- Because he a-” he chokes on the word but still struggles to get it out. “Abandoned me,” it tastes bitter in his mouth. “H-He- that is to say, he and m-mom, they left me behind. I-It’s not fair that he should suddenly act like such a good parent, when we should both know that he’s not.” Shuichi’s voice cracks on the last word but he still doesn’t cry, because he can’t. He bites his lip again, harder than before, and only releases the pressure when he tastes blood.

“Do… Do you have any ideas as to why he might be acting kind to you?” Rantaro’s words are tentative, like he’s worried about how they’ll be received, but Shuichi just avoids his gaze, shaking his head. “...I think, and I’m not a very good authority on this, but… I think maybe he feels bad.”

“...what?” Shuichi feels his insides running cold, and even though it doesn’t sound unreasonable, and in fact his mind is already making (has already made) the connections, he blinks, bewildered, because he doesn’t want to accept what his head has come up with.

Rantaro hesitates. “Well… I don’t know why your parents left. And it wasn’t okay, okay? I’m not saying it was, they shouldn’t have left. I just think it’s possible that your dad always knew that. I think it’s possible that your mom always knew that, too. That it was wrong, I mean.” Shuichi almost doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to hear this. “But… they still did it. And your dad might have figured that that was the end of it. Maybe he thought it was a mistake, but he never saw any reason to try to change the past. Maybe he thought you were happier, with your uncle, anyway.”

“No.” Shuichi whispers.

“It’s possible that, after your mom died, he realised… he realised that his last connection to her was a person who he abandoned in another country for surface level fame and fortune. He started to regret leaving you behind, started to realise how awful it was, what he’d done.”

“St...Stop.”

“So he invites you to the funeral. Flies you in. Tries to act like a father to you, and ignores what happened back then, because he doesn’t know how to breach the topic and maybe he figures you don’t want to talk about it.” Rantaro continues, despite Shuichi’s quiet protests, and while in the back of his mind the detective registers that these are things that are all extremely plausible, he doesn’t want to hear them. Not from Rantaro. “It’s… possible, isn’t it, that your father is just feeling guilty about leaving you? Maybe-”

“Stop!” Shuichi yanks his hand from Rantaro’s, jumps to his feet. Anger flares in his chest, and it’s not really directed towards the adventurer, but it’s not like there’s anybody else in the room he can yell at. “How could you say that? How could you ask me to- to empathise with my father?”

Despite the heat in Shuichi’s voice, Rantaro remains silent and impassive, staying there on the floor with that same sad look in his eyes. Like he understands. It makes Shuichi want to throw up.

“How can I have empathy- even sympathy for him? How can I think from his perspective right now?” He knows his volume is raising with every word and people in the hotel will be concerned and they might get complaints from the hotel manager but god, he doesn’t care about that. Tears are finally starting to burn the corners of his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them spill over because there’s more he needs to say. “He left me when I was less than one years old! You know, I used to sit at my window and fantasise about him and mom coming back for me. Coming up to my front door and taking me away from my aunt and uncle to their home, and telling me that I was forgiven for whatever I had done.” A strangled laugh escapes his throat and Shuichi takes a couple steps backwards, putting a hand on his forehead.

(Rantaro maintains his silence; his expression barely changes. For some reason, this makes Shuichi angrier.)

“I thought it was my fault that they left! I thought that I was such an awful, unlovable kid that nobody would ever want to stay for me, and maybe- m-maybe it would be better if I didn’t exist to begin with.” Shuichi stumbles over those last few words, feels the metaphorical dam inside of him start to crumble to pieces. “I didn’t think that anything I did could ever be right. Growing up I never once received a phone call from them, or a Christmas present, or even a fucking birthday card .” He doesn’t like to curse; those words often feel so ugly in his mouth, but it just falls from his lips and he can’t take it back and he doesn’t want to. “For as long as I’ve been alive I’ve never felt like I was good enough- not just for them, but for anybody. I c-can’t blame all of that on them, but it’s where that started, wasn’t it? Even now I still wonder if it was somehow my fault that they l-left, if I had been just a little bit better, or c-cried less, or something, then maybe they would’ve- they-”

At this, Rantaro stands up, walks over, but Shuichi moves away, feeling his fingers tangling in his hair and pulling so hard he could almost yank out the whole piece. The pain makes him wince but clears his head in that awful way it’s always done. His boyfriend keeps his distance, perhaps wanting to respect his personal space, but still says nothing.

“And now- and now-” Shuichi shudders again, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand that isn’t buried in his own hair. “My father has the audacity to be so kind to me- l-like he never abandoned me, like he actually cares that I exist. A-And he was so torn up over mom dying- everyone was so torn up over mom dying, because she was able t-to- to be such a good person, living a life where she left me behind. I can’t have empathy for that, not- not after everything, not when I-” he doesn’t even know how to end that sentence, but the anger seems to drain out of him, and he lowers his hand from his head, blinking to hold back tears. He refocuses and looks up at Rantaro, hating how pathetic he must look. “How can you say that, Rantaro? I thought you were on my side.” Shuichi almost whimpers the last part, averting his gaze and staring down at the floor.

Finally, Rantaro’s expression changes; allowing for a sad, sad version of his regular smile to cross over his lips as he reaches out with one hand. Shuichi doesn’t flinch away this time, allowing Rantaro to place a hand on the side of his face like he did before. “I’m on your side, Shuichi.” He murmurs, then steps a little closer, brushing a tear that Shuichi hadn’t noticed escaping away with his thumb. “I only said what I said because I knew that I wasn’t the only person who picked up on it.”

Breath hitching, Shuichi chooses to hold his tongue at this, even though he’s certain he knows what Rantaro is alluding to.

“C’mon, baby, you’re a detective.” Under different circumstances, the pet name might have made him feel embarrassed, or happy, but now it just makes a lump rise back up in his throat. “You thought of all of that way before I did. I can’t tell you how you feel, Shuichi, but if I had to guess… you’re not mad because I’m siding with your father, are you?” Slowly, Shuichi looks up, meeting Rantaro’s eyes. Reluctantly, he shakes his head, but still feels his insides curling in anticipation of the answer. “You’re upset because I verbalised what you knew was the truth. You’re mad at yourself for being empathetic, not mad at me for asking you to be.”

Now Shuichi doesn’t know what to say. He makes one last-ditch attempt at blinking away his tears.

It doesn’t seem like Rantaro is having the same problem, though, because he steps closer and places his other hand on Shuichi’s face, enveloping him in warmth. “You’re too compassionate not to be feeling bad for your father right now. But you don’t have to be angry at yourself for that. I think it’s one of your best qualities.”

“...I don’t.” Shuichi mutters. “I-It… hurts too much, Rantaro, I don’t wanna feel this way. I don’t wanna care about what my dad is feeling. I want to hate him. I-It’s not fair.”

“Shuichi…” A strange look clouds Rantaro’s eyes, and he closes them for a moment, taking a breath. But then they open again, and he tilts down his head to press a chaste kiss to Shuichi’s forehead. “I know, baby.” He finally whispers, low and more sad than Shuichi has ever heard from him. “I know.”

At that, Shuichi feels what remains of his willpower crumbling away into nothing as tears start to escape his eyes, and the lump in his throat becomes painful. He lets out a sob, and he’s certain that he makes a beyond ugly expression when he starts to cry in earnest, but he can’t be bothered to try and stop, because the tears won’t stop coming and his legs are weak beneath him. For a moment he’s certain that he’s going to collapse, but Rantaro’s hands move from the sides of his face to catch him around the middle, holding Shuichi up against his chest. As a result, he ends up curling his hands in the fabric of Rantaro’s shirt and burying his face into his shoulder, hoarse sobs coming out louder than he’s ever let them in front of another person.

Shuichi isn’t a stranger to crying; in fact, he does it quite a lot. But loud, ugly sobbing is something that he’s unfamiliar with, for a number of reasons, but for the most part because he doesn’t like hearing those sounds coming from his throat. He feels almost like there is a wild animal trapped in his chest, and forcing out those pained noises. With that in mind, he muffles the sounds with the fabric of Rantaro’s shirt, but it does nothing to stop them from leaving his lips. He’s shaking so hard, and his feet are hardly even holding him up anymore, but Rantaro is steady, and warm, and one of his hands is rubbing up and down his back, like he did this morning, and Shuichi shivers.

At some point, Shuichi transitions from incomprehensible sobs to whispered apologies- mostly just for being angry at Rantaro, and for yelling at him, but for everything else, too. For bringing Rantaro here and getting him involved with his business. For relying on him far too much, when that shouldn’t be his job. For crying like this, and being such a fucking mess. But Rantaro just shushes him, runs a hand through his hair, and leans down to murmur assurances directly into his ear.

They slowly sink down to sit on the floor, a tangled mess of limbs and tears and emotions but Shuichi is okay with it. He’s okay with this, with being vulnerable like this, because even though he’s still crying and all the ugliness hasn’t disappeared yet, some of those gross feelings of guilt and anger are starting to lift from his shoulders. They aren’t replaced by anything. They just leave behind emptiness. But sometimes a little bit of emptiness is okay.

He does run out of tears eventually, and he’s not sure how long he’s been crying when he does, but at some point he finds himself simply lying there with the side of his head pressed against Rantaro’s chest rather than his whole face. From there, Shuichi can hear his heartbeat- steady, despite everything else, and constant. It’s reassuring, just like Rantaro’s arms around him.

“...I’m sorry.” Shuichi eventually mumbles, even though he’s already said as much, and Rantaro has already dismissed his apologies. He knows that too much of anything can be tiresome, and nobody likes how much he apologises, but he can’t help it. Now that his tears are gone, his face is starting to turn red with embarrassment at how awful that must’ve been to witness. “I-”

“Hey. Don’t.” Rantaro whispers, kissing the top of his head and smoothing down his hair. “You have nothing to apologise for, Shuichi.” Still, the detective snuggles more into Rantaro’s lap, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels bad, anyway. He tries not to make a habit out of crying so hard and so loud in front of other people. That he just let that loose, he…

Figuring that Rantaro wouldn’t want him to pursue that train of thought, Shuichi shakes his head to clear out the thoughts and closes his eyes. “Is that shirt dry clean? I’d hate to have ruined it with…” he doesn’t finish the sentence because his boyfriend puts a hand on his arm, gentle but firm as though to demonstrate that he’s serious.

“Don’t worry about it.” It’s more like a command than a request, and Shuichi feels that it’s pretty reasonable regardless, and anyway… he’s tired enough that everything feels unimportant. Rantaro’s arms are warm, and he smells really good. Sweet. He’s thought about it before, how his boyfriend smells so weirdly pleasant all the time, but he’s never been able to come to a conclusion. Does he use perfume? The world may never know. (Unless Shuichi chooses to ask, but there’s some fun in not knowing things.) “Are you sleepy, baby? We can move to the bed.”

“...no.” Shuichi shakes his head against Rantaro’s chest, tightening his grip on the shirt he’s still holding. “I… I don’t wanna move, and… this is okay. U-Unless you’re uncomfortable.” With some effort, he opens his eyes and sits up a little bit, blinking tiredly. “Then we can-”

Huffing out a laugh, Rantaro shakes his head, but he’s smiling fondly. “If you’re alright sleeping here, then… go for it. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s… said that before, Shuichi thinks, after another one of his breakdowns. He promised to stay with him. For some reason, that fact sticks out in his mind, and he almost wakes himself up thinking about it, but he’s too comfortable to put any real effort into it. He’ll worry when he’s conscious again. (That much, he’s sure of.) For now, though… “Mkay.” Nodding, Shuichi snuggles back into his spot from before, feels Rantaro maneuvering so that he’s got something to lean his back against. A wise decision, though he’d still probably be comfortable in the bed, but Shuichi is too tired to care.

He closes his eyes and leans into the hand that Rantaro has placed back on his head, focuses on the feeling of his boyfriend’s fingers in his hair before he finally starts slipping off into unconsciousness. Rantaro says something that Shuichi can’t quite make out, but it makes him smile anyway, so maybe he registers it underneath all of the exhaustion.

Chapter Text

It’s still light outside when Shuichi’s eyes flutter open, but the sky has begun to turn warm pinks and oranges, which is giving him the impression that the sun has begun to set. The gently coloured light streams in through the curtains, which are only partly drawn, and it illuminates a small, sparkling spot in the carpet in front of where he is lying. His eyes follow the dust particles that he can see floating there in the light. It’s a nice sight, and for a long moment, he isn’t sure where he is, but he’s alright with it, because the silence in this room is sweet, and he feels warm.

Then he feels a small twinge of pain in his neck, and it occurs to him that sleeping on the floor in somebody else’s arms is never a particularly painless endeavour. Shuichi feels his heart skip a beat and he turns his head, looking up at Rantaro’s face. The adventurer is looking down at him, green eyes soft, and his expression is so disarming that Shuichi doesn’t even startle. He just smiles, reaching up to brush a couple pieces of hair from Rantaro’s eyes.

“Hey.” His voice is a little hoarse, presumably from all the crying a couple hours ago, but right now none of that feels like it really happened. He’s so comfortable here, and Rantaro’s smile is so lovely, nothing else matters. “Did you sleep at all?” Shuichi asks, shuffling so that he can sit up better. He’s still sitting across his boyfriend’s legs and it occurs to him that moving, as much as it feels like an inconvenience, might be a good idea, because Rantaro’s legs have probably fallen asleep after holding his weight for an indeterminate amount of time.

“Some.” Rantaro answers, shrugging. He catches Shuichi’s hand before the detective can pull it back from his face, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Shuichi shivers slightly at the feeling of Rantaro’s lips on his skin, but for once, he doesn’t think about the ugly scars that are still there. He just thinks of how much he wants to lace together their fingers. “How are you feeling?”

Now Shuichi does push himself up off Rantaro’s thighs, shuffling around so that his knees are on the ground on either side of the adventurer’s legs. “Mm… good.” He says honestly, reaching around hook his arms behind his boyfriend’s neck. Rantaro places one of his hands on Shuichi’s upper back; the other resting in its familiar position on his waist. “What time is it?” He asks, despite the fact that he’s already touching their foreheads together and leaning in to connect their lips. Rantaro closes the distance between them for a moment, lips moving against Shuichi’s in a slow kiss, but then he pulls back to respond.

“Probably around seven.” He murmurs, voice a couple octaves lower than usual. “Are you hungry? We could go grab a bite.” As Rantaro speaks, though, Shuichi steals a couple more kisses, smiling when the adventurer huffs, cheeks flushing a little. It’s not often that Rantaro is the flustered one, between them, but it’s always really cute to see him embarrassed.

“Okay.” Shuichi finally agrees, but not before pressing one last, long kiss to the side of Rantaro’s mouth. (It’s mostly unintentional, on his part, but the noise Rantaro makes in the back of his throat is worth it.) “Let’s get something, but we should get it to go. Let’s go somewhere you haven’t been before.”

Lazily raising an eyebrow, Rantaro tilts his head to the side. “Somewhere I haven’t been.” He repeats with no lilt in his voice.

“Mhm.” Shuichi nods, pulling back and getting shakily to his feet. He should probably change; he’s got one more clean change of clothes packed, one that he meant to wear on the plane ride back, but he can just put it on now. The nice clothes are all wrinkled now, anyway. At least his uncle’s tie is still okay. He shuffles over to the bed, dropping down to sit as he starts unlacing his shoes. In the corner of his eye, he can see Rantaro standing up, stretching with his arms over his head. His shirt is tucked in, but Shuichi almost wishes it weren’t, so he could see it ride up a little. (It’s a silly thought. Rantaro is wearing several undershirts. He’s always wearing several undershirts. Still, it makes Shuichi laugh a little bit to himself.) “You haven’t really been anywhere new except dad’s house, and the cemetery. That’s kinda lame, isn’t it?”

Rantaro snorts, undoing his tie and tossing it onto his bag. “I came to support you, not for any other reason.” He points out, then glances over to meet Shuichi’s eyes, as though the detective might wince, or feel sore at the subtle reference to the funeral.

Instead, he pouts. “Then, let’s go somewhere new ‘cause I want to.” Shuichi huffs, looking away as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. He isn’t wearing an undershirt, but he doesn’t mind if Rantaro sees him shirtless right now. He likes feeling like this. Comfortable. Worry-free. Probably still high off of dopamine from all of those tears. “You’re boring, though,” he adds, smiling a little.

“Haha, okay, don’t talk like Kokichi, please,” Rantaro chuckles, and Shuichi tosses his balled up shirt in the adventurer’s direction, giggling in a poor imitation of their friend.

“Nishishishi, it’s a lie!”

“Stop that,” Rantaro protests, catching the shirt in one hand, but he starts laughing anyway, so Shuichi figures that it’s probably okay. “Kokichi has large little brother energy, if you start acting like him it’ll infect this relationship and make things weird.”

“Ugh, I forgot that was a kink you had.”

“Nooooooo!”

Shuichi laughs, shaking his head and digging into his bag for his last clean change of clothes. He’s glad that he asked his aunt to pack for him rather than his uncle, because knowing his uncle, he’d probably have packed some t-shirt with a stupid pun and a pair of bright green sweatpants. (It’s not that his uncle doesn’t have good fashion sense, he just doesn’t have good fashion sense.) His aunt, who is much more dependable in these situations, packed him a simple pair of black jeans and a grey sweater. It’s soft and probably a bit big on him, but as much as Shuichi doesn’t really like wearing big clothing, he’s okay with the sweater.

He turns away from Rantaro so that they can both change without making things uncomfortable. As Shuichi is reaching towards the nightstand for a comb, contemplating washing his face as well, he notices that his cell phone is blinking like crazy where it is lying underneath the lamp shade. He sighs, because he has a pretty good hunch as to who’s been trying to reach him, but he grabs the phone anyway and inputs his password before checking to see what he’s missed.

As he predicted, he’s got several missed calls and voicemails from his father, as well as a text message. Of course, he should look at them, but… Shuichi is still feeling good right now. He wants to hold on to this feeling for a bit before coming to terms with reality. Which he’ll have to do eventually, anyway. Might as well keep from facing it for another couple hours.

So he neglects to view the text message for now, tapping the power button and sliding his phone into his pocket before turning around to look at Rantaro. His boyfriend has gotten dressed, by now, and is fussing with one of his cartilage piercings. Perhaps he is considering changing them. Though Shuichi generally doesn’t like being a nuisance, he’s feeling light enough that he is able to walk directly over to where the adventurer is standing and push up onto his tiptoes, touching their lips together in another kiss.

“Jeez,” Rantaro mutters, but he’s smiling, so it’s hard for him to be taken seriously. “Are you always like this after crying?”

“Like what?” Shuichi figures he’d probably feel stung by a comment like that ordinarily but nothing feels real at the moment. “Affectionate?” He suggests, grinning. “Would you rather I not be affectionate? I can do that.”

Rantaro considers it for a moment. “Hm, no, actually. It’s nice. But I need to concentrate for like three seconds so that I can- okay.” He finishes messing with the earring, smiling triumphantly. “We’re good.” Rantaro has changed from his nice clothes, and it’s worth noting that he folded them up rather than tossing them around like Shuichi, and he’s traded them for a pair of grey pants not unlike the ones he wears normally, as well as a pale pink shirt. It would probably make him glow on a super sunny day, but at the moment, in the fading evening light of dusk, he’s probably safe. He has grabbed a jacket as well, but he isn’t wearing it yet; he’s got it hooked over his shoulders with the hand he wasn’t using to fix his earring.

In lieu of speaking, Shuichi reaches out to lace their fingers together, tugging gently on his arm to indicate that he wants to leave the room. Rantaro snorts, not judgmentally, and wordlessly accommodates, falling into step beside the detective as they close the door to the hotel room behind them and walk down the hall.

When they’ve stepped out of the library and started down the sidewalk, Rantaro breaks the silence. “Where do you wanna get food?”

“Ah, perhaps…” Shuichi glances around. “We could try something new at that banh mi place over there,” he gestures at the small Vietnamese deli across the street, nudging Rantaro’s arm with his elbow. “I liked their food. If you’re not in the mood for banh mi, we can probably just get spring rolls or something.”

“You try eating American Vietnamese food after trying it in Vietnam.” Rantaro jokes, and when Shuichi raises an eyebrow at him, looks like he wants to say something. Instead, he forces an odd smile, and doesn’t say anything else. Sensing that Rantaro is uncomfortable, Shuichi squeezes his hand, starting towards the deli.

“Well, I don’t have much authentic Vietnamese food on hand, so maybe we’d better settle for this for now,” he starts, smiling politely at an older man who passes them, walking his dog. “But you can take me to Vietnam sometime, and ruin all my future prospects with American banh mi. Sound okay?”

Eyes widening a fraction, Rantaro nods, and again seems like he wants to say something. Shuichi waits, but it seems that his boyfriend has decided against it, because eventually he just releases a breath and reaches out to open the door for the detective. As much as he’d like to do things the other way around, Shuichi allows the gesture, because he likes the back and forth, and also, he is sensing that Rantaro would rather do things for him right now; not the other way around. Which is fine, for the moment. They’ll talk about it later.

Despite Rantaro’s comment a few minutes before, they both end up ordering some barbeque pork banh mi, a plate of spring rolls, and a couple cans of coconut juice. Shuichi laughs out loud when he spots the taro ice cream, which really just resembles popsicles but the woman behind the counter calls it ice cream in her broken English (Shuichi can relate, but he can’t exactly accommodate because he doesn’t speak Vietnamese ) so he goes with it. He still isn’t a huge fan of sweet things, but they remind him so much of Kokichi that he has to get two of them.

His boyfriend rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest, so they end up adding two sticks of taro ice cream to their total before paying, thanking the woman, and leaving. Shuichi leaves another one of those probably-too-large tips, because after these past few days, he’s still not sure how it works, but if Rantaro notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

Once they’re out of the deli and walking down the sidewalk, Rantaro speaks. “So, when you said you wanted to go somewhere neither of us has ever been before, what exactly did you have in mind? Should we just wander around until we find somewhere nice enough to have a picnic?”

Humming out his agreement, Shuichi releases Rantaro’s hand to shift the bag of food into his other, shaking out his fingers where lines have started to appear in his skin from holding the plastic. Without speaking, Rantaro takes the bag from him, moving it into one of his hands so he can hold Shuichi’s other, and the detective thinks that’s fairly un fair, but alright. “That was the extent of my planning thus far, yes.” He answers with a light smile. Rantaro’s low chuckle next to him makes warmth spread through his chest.

“I should ask, then, how you plan on returning to the hotel after we find the place to begin with…?”

“Um, you’re the Ultimate Adventurer, you can find it.” Shuichi scoffs, but when Rantaro raises an eyebrow at him, he succeeds, smiling sheepishly. “Ah, I also thought that if things go poorly, we could always use Google Maps.” He admits, and Rantaro laughs, but shakes his head.

“No, my pride both as a man and as an adventurer won’t let me do that.” He says, which is what Shuichi had suspected, but he doesn’t say anything else, instead opting to walk in silence.

Well, relative silence. The streets of Los Angeles are loud with traffic and the sounds of people speaking in a language Shuichi doesn’t speak very well, even at around eight in the evening. Wisps of words and phrases he recognises fly by his ears, all weaving together in a large web of artificial-sounding pleasantries. It’s so unfamiliar to him, despite his growing up in the city, that he can’t help but be intrigued by it. Shuichi can’t even imagine choosing to come live in a city like this. It’s not as though it’s bigger than Tokyo, or more crowded, or more famous. In fact, the differences aren’t quite so noticeable at first. But it’s the little things that he doesn’t think he could ever want to live with.

That, perhaps, is one way that he and his father are different. Certainly, he’d never abandon his kid for a life in a city like Los Angeles. But as much as the thought frustrates him, he doesn’t feel that burning anger in the pit of his stomach, right now. He doesn’t even feel sadness, really. It’s more like pity, right now. Which feels patronising and awful and definitely not the ideal but it’s so much better than hatred that he clings to it. Pity can clear a path for empathy, he knows. The idea of empathising with his father is frightening, but…

Oh, he supposes he can manage, if his father apologises in a meaningful way.

“Hey,” Rantaro stops, and Shuichi breaks out of his thoughts, blinking back into reality. Their surroundings had changed, while he was thinking, until eventually the shops and storefronts turned into houses and the large crowds of people thinned out and the only people in the area are the two of them. The air smells sweeter here, though Shuichi is sure that it’s still plenty polluted- they’re standing in front of a park. “This is kind of nice.”

How they could reach a park just by walking in a straight line from their hotel for under an hour, the detective isn’t willing to try figuring it out. It might destroy the magic of this moment. The sky has begun to take on a dark, dusty blue colour, and though there are no stars in the sky, it’s a clear night, and the moon is casting a silvery light down on everything. It’s a crescent moon tonight, and if Shuichi focuses, he can see the craters that his aunt once told him made a face. He can’t see the face without looking for it, of course, but perhaps there’s a beauty in only being able to see something the second time around.

It’s not a very big park, to be honest. There’s a playground, and a grassy field which is surrounded by tall, droopy deciduous trees, but the courtyard at Hope’s Peak Academy is definitely bigger. In a way, that almost makes it more surreal. Tentatively, Shuichi looks over at Rantaro, whose face glows slightly in the moonlight. He’s about to open his mouth and ask if his boyfriend has been here before, but before he can even formulate the sentence in his mind, he already knows the answer. From the excited sparkle in his green eyes, and from the way that his breath stutters almost unnoticeably, Shuichi can tell that this is new to Rantaro as well. It’s his passion, after all, adventuring. He’s barely gotten to see it, this past week, when Rantaro has been showing him a lot of places he’s already been before.

It’s… nice.

“C’mon, let’s go sit down and eat before our ice cream melts.” Thankfully, spring rolls and banh mi aren’t typically eaten heated up, so they’re not in danger of tasting bad cold, but they’ve been walking for long enough that it’s entirely possible possible the taro ice cream has melted. Which would suck, because Shuichi wants to get a picture of it and send it to Kokichi with a bunch of eggplant emojis. (He’s… not sure where the urge came from, but he figures that genuine happiness like this only comes so often, he should probably just indulge himself in it.)

“Yeah.” Rantaro breathes, but when he meets Shuichi’s eyes, the detective feels his breath catch in his throat at the face Rantaro is making. Being that pretty should be ILLEGAL. He brushes off the thoughts as they walk across the grass, finding a nice spot in the moonlight and sitting down.

Immediately, Shuichi hisses. “It’s wet, noooo…”

“It’s too late in the day for dew, I wasn’t ready!” Rantaro complains, but he’s laughing too hard for his words to be taken seriously, and as a result, Shuchi ends up laughing too, even though his pants are probably going to be soaked by the time they’re done here. It’s okay. They’re black, so it’s not as though they’ll be stained. The same can’t be said for his boyfriend, but Rantaro doesn’t seem to be worrying about it, so Shuichi resolves to do the same.

Rantaro drops the bag between them and swiftly unties the knot, folding the flaps of the bag down with practiced ease. (Shuichi supposes it shouldn’t take too much practice to be able to skillfully open a “thank-you” bag but Rantaro’s grace is too blatant for him not to take notice of it.) He pulls out one of the sandwiches and passes it to Shuichi before taking his own. “Thank you,” Shuichi smiles, pulling off the rubber band. Last time he got banh mi, he had it with beef, rather than barbeque pork, so he isn’t entirely sure what to expect- but it’s good. Rantaro seems to like it, too, despite his remark from earlier, but this is unsurprising. Shuichi has never taken him for the picky type.

“It’s better in Ho Chi Minh,” Rantaro points out, but Shuichi reaches up to put a finger against his lips, stopping him from continuing.

“I’m sure it is,” he starts, feeling himself smile regardless. “But we’re in Los Angeles, not Ho Chi Minh, and it’s mean to talk to me about good food that I am not currently able to obtain.” At those words, Rantaro swallows, for some reason looking a little flustered, but doesn’t say anything. Shuichi takes a moment to ponder his boyfriend’s hesitation, before remembering the conversation they had right before his uncle called.

As much as Shuichi is talking like he and Rantaro are already going to be traveling together at the moment, he hasn’t exactly given a straight answer yet. He can’t necessarily be blamed for it, especially because a response isn’t due for another few days or so, but honestly…

Shuichi has known what he planned on saying since Rantaro asked, he just wanted a moment to weigh the pros and cons of giving the response that he wants to. He probably would’ve come to a conclusion much sooner than he originally intended, but then all of that with the funeral started happening, and he had to redirect his attention to the place that it had to be, for the funeral. Now that that’s essentially done with, though, Shuichi thinks that there are things that he should be considering right now.

If he’s being honest, though, there isn’t much else for him to consider. He’s already thought about it in terms of not seeing his friends often- Rantaro is around plenty, and he always makes it for school events. It’s not as though he’d never be in Japan, he’d just be spending a lot of time abroad. Shuichi has always hated needles and he’s sure there will be a lot of those going the crazy places his boyfriend does, but he’s willing to brave a couple shots if it means getting to spend that time together.

Besides… this past week, aside from all the drama, Shuichi has felt more secure than he’s ever felt. Rantaro’s presence is stabilising. He feels whole, almost, being around him. Which is ridiculous and possibly even unhealthy, considering that one’s stability should not be dependent on the presence of their romantic partner, but he can’t help it. Maybe it’s only been a week, but it’s been a good week. And he feels comfortable with Rantaro. More than comfortable. He feels happy.

Seeing this new side of Rantaro, too- Shuichi has to admit that it’s awfully tempting. And there’s no way that he’s not about to help his boyfriend find his sisters.

“Hey…” Rantaro puts down his banh mi, and Shuichi snaps out of his thoughts to meet his eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“You always find a way to rephrase that question.” Shuichi teases, watching Rantaro’s smile spread across his expression, but then he averts his gaze, figuring he should probably just say it. “I-I was just thinking, uhm… I’d like to go with you.”

“Hm?” Rantaro tilts his head slightly, but based on the way his shoulders tense a little, and his eyebrows raise, Shuichi is certain that he has some idea about what he means. “What are you…?”

“I mean, to find your sisters. You offered to take me with you traveling, so that I could help you find your sisters. I’d like to do that.” Shuichi is finding it difficult to string together a coherent sentence, at least in regards to what is on his mind, but he understands the importance of being articulate right now. He can’t just stutter out something unclear, because he knows Rantaro and he knows that if he even sounds uncertain, his boyfriend will call it all off.

The adventurer pauses, his expression staying the same. But Shuichi can detect a little bit of emotion flicking in his eyes. Just a bit. “...are you sure? Are you sure you’re not just saying that because I came with you for the funeral? You don’t owe me anything, you know, I-”

Shuichi reaches out, gently touches the side of Rantaro’s face. “No. I wouldn’t offer to come with you just because I felt like I owe you.” He says firmly, maintaining direct eye contact. “I want to go with you. Really, it’s been the case since you asked, I just… I needed a moment to think about it. And while I’m glad I took it, the answer is yes nonetheless.”

“Oh.” Rantaro swallows. “Really? I mean, I hate to sound like a broken record, but are you really sure? I don’t want you to make a choice and then regret it, or feel like you can’t back out, or-”

“You’re acting as though you wouldn’t immediately drop everything to get me home if you thought there was even the slightest chance of me being uncomfortable.” Shuichi rolls his eyes. “I’m sure, Rantaro, I want to do this. I want to help you find your sisters. Not as the Ultimate Detective. As Shuichi Saihara. As- as your boyfriend,” he adds the last part in an undertone, feeling his cheeks warm. As much as he’s trying to get used to the term, it’s still embarrassing to say out loud.

There is a silence between them that feels a lot longer than it actually is, wherein Rantaro merely stares at his face, a blank look in his eyes.

Finally, though, he smiles a little, and then a lot, and then he pushes up onto his knees to crash their lips together. Shuichi is taken off guard by it to the extent that he falls backwards into the grass, but he puts a hand on Rantaro’s back, laughing a little bit into the kiss. It’s messy and slightly desperate and very emotional and both of their lips probably taste like banh mi but Shuichi barely notices, because it’s also warm. He straightens himself out a little bit, leaning into the kiss, and savouring it until Rantaro pulls back.

“Okay.” Rantaro whispers eventually. “Okay. But the second you’re uncomfortable, or scared, or think it’s too much- tell me, alright? If you ever want to go home or back out or even just only travel once in a while, I want to know. We can figure something else out if this doesn’t work.”

“Mhm.” Shuichi brushes a few stray hairs out of Rantaro’s face, smiling. “I promise, I’ll tell you the second I start feeling like I’m not up to it.” He means it, but in this moment, with Rantaro in his arms and the moon above their heads, he finds it unlikely that he’ll ever want to back out of this. The future is uncertain, of course, and his feelings could change, but… it just seems implausible, from where he’s sitting now.

Suffice to say that they get distracted, and their taro ice cream melts, but Shuichi still gets a picture of the melted ice cream in his wrapper and sends it to Kokichi with the appropriate emojis. The response he gets is a bunch of crying emojis and then a message in all caps about how he’s in the middle of class and shouldn’t be texting, so Shuichi leaves him on read like the good friend he is. It’s alright. He’ll respond later, probably.

At around eleven o’clock at night, they start packing up their garbage, but Shuichi gets distracted briefly by the text from his father that he still hasn’t looked at. After a long internal debate, he finally decides to read the text. And it’s not much, anyway- definitely not anything worth such a long hype.

[Hey, Shuichi, I didn’t see you at the end of the funeral and I’m just wondering if you and Rantaro got back to the hotel safely. Call or text me back when you can.]

That’s it. That’s all. No questions about why they left, or when they left. No angry messages about the fact that he ditched his own mother’s funeral, no questions about his feelings or any of that. Just inquiring about his safety. That kindness might have made Shuichi angry even just this morning, but now… he feels himself smiling, staring down at the message. Rantaro’s words from before echo in his mind.

So he types out a response.

[We’re safe. Sorry for the late response, thank you for checking in. I was overwhelmed and I had to go.]

Then, even though he’s not sure, Shuichi sends a second message.

[I’d like to talk to you about some things, if you’re available before I return to Japan… would that be alright?]

Is he fishing for apologies? Well, he’s not sure. Perhaps he’s just opening the space for them. But… he’d also like to have that conversation. About the years that he spent without parents in his life. About his mother, who he never got to know, and will never get to know. And it’s a bit early for him to thinking it, but, if possible… he’d like to try to have a relationship with his father. A real one. It doesn’t have to be a close relationship, or anything normal, but… he wants to try. A few months ago, he didn’t even think he’d get that chance.

His father’s response comes in almost right away.

[Yes! I’m available for as long as you’re still in California. And any time after that, whenever you want me to be. Tomorrow morning over breakfast sound okay? My treat.]

Shuichi feels an odd warmth in his chest. It’s unfamiliar to him, but he can’t say he minds the sensation. Whenever you want me to be, his father has written. He’s not sure how much he can trust that, after everything, but… he’d like to talk about it. He’d like to give his father a chance to be a father. Even if he doesn’t really deserve it. It’s not always about what’s deserved.

“Are you gonna help me clean this up, or what?” Rantaro asks, smiling over at Shuichi from where he’s attempting to chase down a flyaway plastic wrapper from their taro ice cream. Shuichi scoops it up from the grass, raising his eyebrows, but he nods, shuffling over to help Rantaro get everything else into the bag. He feels content. Like things aren’t perfect, by any stretch, but… they might be, eventually, and that makes him feel a lot better than he has all week. “You alright?” His boyfriend asks, concern colouring his tone. (Idly, Shuichi wonders what expression he must be making to bring on the question, but no matter.)

At this, he smiles though, wide enough that his cheeks hurt. “Yeah. I’m great.” He says, and he means it.