Chapter Text
“Goko, what do you say about going to the amusement park today?” Tsurumaru says, gulping down the last sip of coffee from his mug. It’s… bitter. He would have passed on the instant variant if it weren’t the only type of coffee he had, sadly sitting there ever since he received it in a gift basket almost a year ago for Christmas from Mitsutada.
That guy, seriously. He calls every now and then ‘just to make sure you feed Gokotai properly. Don’t give him just sweets to eat.’ He sounds like one of those old ladies from Tsurumaru’s neighbourhood. Mitsutada would probably love them. And they would absolutely adore him.
“A-Amusement park? Today?”
“Yeah. It’s Sunday and it’s been a while. What do you think?”
Gokotai’s face lightens up and he nods excitedly. “I want to go!” A second later, he seems to have remembered what amusement parks comprise, and the smile wrinkles as do the boy’s eyebrows.. “……..But no haunted mansions……. or too fast rollercoasters…….”
“Hmmm… would you rather we go to the zoo, then? There are no scary attractions. Given I would be with you so you wouldn’t have to be scared but it’s supposed to be fun, so… zoo?”
More excited than before, Gokotai nods rapidly again, dropping his spoon into the milk of the cereals with a loud clank, making him freeze. He has always been a very sensitive soul, scared of loud noises and shadows and… actually, Gokotai’s plenty scared of almost everything.
Tsurumaru more often than not used to worry about why. He needed to swear oaths to Mitsutada - and all his friends, for that matter - that he never scared his son as much as to become like that. He honestly didn’t, just how heartless do they think he is? He is still offended by them even thinking he would surprise a child for his own amusement. …He did consider it, sometimes. Rarely. Statistically never, really.
He does know and remember that Goko’s mother used to be like that too. Easy to scare, she had an incredible hearing and used to be a musician, played the piano very much more beautifully than Tsurumaru had ever imagined a piano to sound. She’d always been told she looked like a doll, pale and fragile, and frail as her frame was her heart as well, unfortunately. She used to say she loved Tsurumaru’s pranks, used to always laugh at them and told him they always amused her.
He never quite knew what prank would possibly distract him from the heartbreak after losing her. None ever really worked again.
A loud thump makes both Tsurumaru and Gokotai jolt in their chairs, looking at each other. Voices are audible from the corridor outside but Tsurumaru can’t make out what exactly they are saying.
“Papa,” Gokotai whispers and Tsurumaru isn’t quite sure why he tries to be quiet, “do you think this might be a new neighbour?”
“Oh,” Tsurumaru exclaims and nods, “true, that’s sharp. I would have never thought of that but it does sound like this might be furniture being moved in.”
Just a few weeks ago the old lady that had lived next to them moved back to the countryside again after her husband died and both Gokotai and him had been wondering what new neighbours they would get. Especially Goko seemed sad about the old lady moving. Her croquettes were his favourites though she promised he’d be welcome to visit her in the village she moved to.
“Psst, Goko.” He leans over the table and grins. “Come on, let’s check out who moves in, like the ace detectives we are.”
The boy’s expression relaxes again and he slides off his chair silently, waving his father over. Tsurumaru follows suit, grasping Gokotai’s hand and both of them tiptoe to the door of their apartment together. Gokotai grasps the handle of the door and presses it down as softly as he can while Tsurumaru pushes it open a crack, spying through it, his son pressing against him and trying to do the same.
“Do you see anything?”
Gokotai shakes his head. “Uh uh. …Just a few moving boxes…”
Tsurumaru opens the door a bit wider, peeking his head outside. It’s gotten fairly cold lately, the cool air from the corridor making him shiver. Indeed, just moving boxes and a rather… expensive looking sofa. Someone rich, maybe?
“Where does the bed go?” a voice suddenly asks and Tsurumaru tries to find out who was the person saying that, quickly finding out it must be some sort of helper, carrying the frame of a fairly large bed with a second person.
“It would be great if you could carry it to the room to your right,” another voice says and Tsurumaru freezes. This is impossible. It just resembles a voice he has heard not too long ago, he is certain. An upbeat but soothing tone, the type Tsurumaru would have liked to listen to for a little longer, if he could. But that’s impossible. Memories of a parents’ evening with an embarrassing turn of events come to his mind and he is not quite sure he wants to remember.
Certainly, for that Munechika - no, Mikazuki, he asked to be called eventually - until Tsurumaru remembered it’s Gokotai’s history teacher he tried to score with and that…. he does not want to recall again. But it’s not him, certainly. That would truly be a surprising coincidence.
Gokotai pops his head out of the door too, holding onto the edge of the door as not to fall out and gasps.
“It’s Munechika-sensei!” he exclaims, apparently very accidentally in a loud voice. He clasps his hands over his mouth with a whimper and looks up to Tsurumaru who ruffles his hair to reassure him that it’s quite alright that he slipped. A surprising coincidence. What. A. Joke.
“Ah. Who might have called me?” Mun— Mikazuki, Tsurumaru reminds himself, steps a little closer with a chuckle as Gokotai slips back inside, hiding behind Tsurumaru who opens the door for the final blow. And in fact, Goko was right. There he is, much more casually dressed than Tsurumaru expected him to be… he looks almost a little old-fashioned in a woolen sweater and… oddly fitted pants. A weird taste in clothing yet he still looks gorgeous. It’s worrying, really.
“Surprise, surprise,” Tsurumaru says, a lot smoother than he expected himself to be, a smile on his face stuck with what feels like super glue. Uncomfortable and forced because he really tried not to want to score with his son’s teacher. But it seems like fate really leaves him no choice. He can’t say he didn’t try.
“Aha! So I heard right, it was Gokotai’s voice I heard.” Mikazuki crouches down and smiles at Gokotai whose grip on his father’s shirt loosens as he peeks out from behind him.
“H-Hello. I’m sorry if I’ve been rude…”
“Don’t worry about it. I was just wondering whether I imagined it. That would have truly been concerning!”
Gokotai nods and Tsurumaru feels the need to say something… except he doesn’t exactly know what to say. So much for smooth.
“So it seems we will be neighbours, then, Tsurumaru-san?” Mikazuki says as he gets up, staring right at Tsurumaru. …A bit too intensely for his tastes or perhaps he wishes that would be the case. God, self-restraint has never been his strong suit and when he tries, it seems like everything gets in his way of doing so.
“…Seems so. Haha, what a coincidence, isn’t it, Mikazuki-san.” Awkward. He definitely made things awkward now. He might have wanted to wait with the name thing for a little longer. He definitely should have. Trying to score with him, my ass. But he did call him by his first name, too? It should be alright? ….Fate can be cruel. Too damn cruel.
“You remembered.”
It is there again, a smile as beautiful as it is dangerous to Tsurumaru, lethal almost, if he stares at it for too long before Mikazuki is being called by those helping him to move his furniture in. He excuses himself, saying they could chat whenever from now on and Tsurumaru buries his face in his hands as soon as he closes the door again, Gokotai left staring at him with worry.
He is done for. Capital D Done for. By his son’s damn history teacher and his damn beautiful, night blue eyes.