Chapter Text
“Daddy! Daddy, wake up!”
Haru jolted awake. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Why are you asleep? It’s almost dinner time!” Hikaru was still shaking his arm in her little vice grip.
He yawned. “I was up all night painting. What time is it?”
She shook harder. “It’s already 5! We have to go!”
“Isn’t dinner at 6?” He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Hikaru relinquished his arm, but didn’t look any less disappointed. “Why don’t you go first and help Granny?”
“I was,” she said, using her best pouty face, “But she said she didn’t need any more help and that I should come get you.”
Hikaru had probably been doing what she, and many small children, did best: making a mess and chattering uncontrollably. It was no wonder that Granny wanted a few minutes of peace.
“Okay, well, I’ve gotta get changed. Give me just a few minutes.”
“Fine,” his daughter said, stomping only slightly towards her own room.
Haru had fallen asleep on the couch, which he had managed to keep paint-free by luck alone. Though he tried to keep his paints confined to the garage, he was always managing to find smudges, droplets, and even the odd used paintbrush around other parts of the house.
He had been stuck for months on one painting in particular, the idea coming to him in bits and pieces between other smaller paintings, but try as he might, Haru could never imagine it all together. He’d wasted more than a few big canvases trying, and decided the night before with a burst of energy and insomnia that he didn’t have much more time to struggle before his next exhibition.
How far had he gotten before he crashed? An old button down he’d shed off, an empty tea mug, and droplets of blue paint led Haru back to his studio. Just a glance, he thought, opening the door and feeling for the light switch.
It was just the ocean in front of a gray sky, cold and unfriendly, spread out on the canvas. It seemed to stare at Haru as he stared back, disappointed, but not unsurprised. The lighting was good, and the use of color mixed among the gray-blue of the waves was fantastic. At least he painted something, and it would sell, but it certainly wasn’t what he’d had in mind.
In his bedroom, Haru searched his wardrobe for something that wasn’t stained with paint. He always bought new clothes before his exhibitions, but they inevitably also bore the scars of his profession. Normally he wouldn’t care, but Granny would be watching him as close as she always did.
He also wanted to make a good impression on Makoto, and was still so nervous that he would rather give himself food poisoning than go to the dinner, but he couldn’t do that to his daughter. He was trying not to think about it.
There was a red plaid shirt that looked reminiscent of something Haru had stolen from Makoto a long, long time ago, and Haru felt strange putting it on, but didn’t have much other choice. A pair of black slacks from his previous show a few months ago had blessedly avoided any damage, save for a streak of white on the back pocket which Haru thought could be considered “fashionable”.
Good enough.
---
Hikaru ran ahead of Haru the entire way, brimming with energy. She would stop every so often, turn around, cross her arms, and wait for him to catch up, rolling her eyes almost every time. Haru couldn’t remember ever having this much energy as a kid, though he had been on the swim team, so that’s probably where all of it went.
“C’mon!” she finally yelled, throwing her arms in the air.
“I’m old,” Haru replied. “And we’re not even late.”
“You’re not old, and we are late!”
One of those two things was probably true.
As they neared the apartment building, a small, brown dog ran up to greet them. Probably the dog that Hikaru had made Granny adopt. Maybe, Haru thought, he should have brought it a toy, or some steak, or something. He didn’t know, he wasn’t a dog person, but he would pass along some dog money to Granny, along with the toilet money that he owed her.
“Daddy, come say hi!” Hikaru, once again, raced ahead of Haru to greet the dog.
He caught up and knelt down next to them, the dog immediately jumping on his knees. “Hello, you must be Makoto,” he said, patting it on the head. “Nice to meet you.”
Hikaru had grown out of her dad’s dad-jokes at least three years before. That wasn’t going to stop Haru, though--it was one of the best perks of being a dad. Hikaru huffed. “His name is Bean! Makoto is a person.”
For a dog, he supposed it was an okay one. As long as Hikaru was happy. Her reaction to his bad joke had at least made himself feel a little better.
They entered through the back door into the kitchen area, where Junko looked just about done with dinner.
“Sorry we’re late.” Haru greeted her, sliding off his shoes. Hikaru had already bounced off, probably to look for Makoto, who was thankfully not in the kitchen.
“Look what the dog dragged in!” Junko put her hands on her hips and gave Haru a long look up and down. He was fairly certain she could see all of his weaknesses, and maybe his fears, too. “You look better than I thought you would, though I do wish those dark circles would go away.”
“I was up all night painting. I have an exhibit soon,” he said simply. He would send tickets via Hikaru when the time came nearer.
Junko nodded, taking off her apron. “Help me put these on the table, will you?” She had prepared a variety of side dishes, with fresh sashimi for the main dish. “Well, you know I’m just going to tell you to not forget to take care of yourself.”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” Junko mocked. “Says the man I need to hound again and again just to get him to come to dinner.”
Haru sighed. It’s not like Junko wasn’t correct, he was just a noncommittal asshole and they both knew it. “I’m sorry I don’t come over more often. I’ll try to do better. Also, I brought the toilet money.
She smiled. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”
Hikaru sprang back into the kitchen just as the table was set. “Makoto said he’d be ready soon. He’s talking to his family,” she reported dutifully.
Haru’s heart started pounding. Now it was getting real. Maybe he should have talked to Junko about this beforehand, just in case Makoto had a bad reaction. Or just in case he had a bad reaction. He didn’t really want to explain with Hikaru in the room, though, but the time had passed. She would have to explain it to her eventually.
A long time ago, Makoto and I were best friends, and then I got really depressed before we were supposed to go to college, and--
The dog could surely sense something was up. He was staring at Haru with big eyes, tongue sticking out. A mocking expression if Haru had ever seen one. Junko definitely deserved a warning of some sort.
“Hey,” he started, but it was too late.
“Sorry, I didn’t think the call would go so long!” Makoto said, stepping into the kitchen.
He looked just like Haru remembered.