Work Text:
Davide put his mug of tea down by the old register, and swept the sawdust off his hands by clapping them together. He found the worn pencil laying in the gap between the order book and the side of the dusty drawer, and in scooping it up, found his short fingernails nonetheless filled with grit and sawdust. It got under his skin, when dust got under his nails… no, too weak, and he popped the pencil behind his ear like a real, professional carpenter, and forced his thoughts onto his duties. Davide picked up the order book, holding the soft spine and whacking his other hand with the pages and listened to them bend and flutter -- a little like his pun notebook used to be, yeah, but he'd put all of those into storage where he didn't have to look at them -- and he dragged his thumb down the page edges so that each one ticked as it opened in quick sequence until the bookmark halted his movement. A set of chairs, a dresser, a table -- some of the orders had stars beside them, meaning some specification that only Ojii's level of mastery could adequately handle, or that Davide could work on them only under Ojii's guidance. He sighed, and when he sighed the wisps of hair not caught in his ponytail fluttered about his face. So from September 27th's orders, he could handle working on the chair set. He drew a line under the list and wrote 'September 28th', and he furrowed his brow at the part of his brain that still lit up and said, hey! You know what tomorrow is!
Davide bit down on his teeth, and pulled up the specification sheet marked with the customer name and 27/09 -- two chairs. He took the plan over to the workbench they had set up in the store and rolled it out on there, displacing coils of wood shavings and wood chips as it unfurled. Seems simple enough, he thought loudly over the voice he kept on recalling, one day you n' me, we'll get a bigger place than this, n' you can fill it up with all yer fancy furniture -- build as many damn chairs as ya like, kahkahkah! Davide forced his eyes shut and rapped his knuckles against his forehead. "Actually I'm sick of building chairs!" he said, spitefully, to nobody… and found himself self-conscious in the answering silence.
He groaned at himself, and walked over to the register to retrieve his tea, and stewed over it. He didn't need some fantastical romantic dream future to wind up building chairs. Building chairs was his job. He looked up at the saw-dusty but ornate wooden clock on the wall and checked it against his watch, building chairs was his job most days, because he'd mastered chairs, it's not some special privilege. Davide took a good swig of his tea and set his mug down before striding to the door. He clicked the latch and turned the little sign so the word "OPEN" could be seen through the window. He would, no doubt, build many chairs in the future. He was perfectly capable of growing old and building chairs on his own, and that's fine. That will be fine. Davide stormed over to the workbench and started building a chair.
The morning dwindled away with a few customers looking for pre-cut and pre-treated pieces of wood for their own projects, and one or two people looking for contract work left their details for estimates, and mostly Davide built his chair and sat at the register taking bites of lunch whenever he remembered to eat. The chime attached to the door jingled sometime in the late part of the afternoon, when the evening sun was a hot orange glow slanting through the windows, and half of everything was thrown into cool shade as sunset approached. Davide looked up from his work. The man who entered was red-faced, and flushed up to his ears, and beaming in a way that was both strong and soft, and that seemed to make his little pinkish eyes water. He was wearing a nicely-pressed suit, and he had a little excited jaunt about his step -- a little fidgety -- and he seemed to cast a passing glance over the stacks of wood and premade tables and cabinets that lay about on the shop floor, before fumbling his way over to the workbench.
"I won't be a moment," Davide said, lifting his by-now nearly finished chair off the workbench and swiping the dust off his hands. The man watched him do this with a quite visible excitement.
"Do you make all the furniture right here?" he said, standing on his tiptoes to get a look behind the workbench.
"Ah," Davide had to clear his throat, his voice froggy from lack of use, "um, no, we have a--" he gestured over his shoulder to the door that led to the main workshop, "a workshop. Back there." There was a pause, and in it Davide realised there was more he could have said, but the man just frowned and accepted it.
"Okay… so is this where I go to order a bespoke piece?" the man grinned and clenched his hands, clearly thrilled at his mission. Davide strode to get the order book and some drafting paper from the register, and placed them on the workbench.
"Sure. What are you looking for?"
The man's eyes lit up like he'd been waiting all day to be asked that very question. "I need a crib! I just found out, my wife's pregnant! It'll be our first!"
And Davide tried to blink it out, but it came up unbidden anyway, Bane-san holding the baby in his arms. He cradled it high on his chest, rocking slightly side-to-side, and babbling away at it. But his face, his face had glowed just like the face of the customer in front of Davide now, Bane's face as he looked at the baby was radiant with pure joy and love, a grin now, and then a silly wide-eyed, gawping face. Poking out his tongue, and rolling back his eyes, and laughing -- yes, and Davide who stood in the entryway of their little apartment felt that look like a hot searing stab aching through his core. There was love in Davide that responded to Bane-san's happiness then, but it was the love that burned him, made his chest tight, made his stomach small. Bane had looked up, face pink with affection, Hey, Davi!, a sort of, wow, look at this neat little thing! But Bane-san didn't see the way the apartment stretched the distance between them, and Davide took a few seconds to close his eyes before saying back to the customer, "Do you know what kind of measurements you need? How tall, how wide?"
He pulled the pencil from behind his ear and steadied it against the paper, and looked up at the man, trying not to show his fury at the prickling of the hairs on his arms, trying not to wince at the pain he'd remembered. The man blurted out a noise of surprise and scrabbled for his phone, "Oh! Yeah, I have it written down somewhere, hang on!" They discussed dimensions. They discussed styles. They discussed estimates and timescales for the project to be completed. They discussed delivery arrangements. And Davide, taking down his notes, customer details, processing the deposit, worked back into his stride. It's not a fantastical romantic dream future, it's just work, and then the customer said, out of nowhere, "Do you… have kids?"
Davide froze on the spot. He tried to get his words out the best he could, "N-no… I um… My relationship… ended…" and as soon as he'd said them he knew that wasn't the question, and that he could have said less, but the man frowned and accepted it.
"Oh… I'm sorry, I didn't…" and Davide shook his head in reply, because he didn't either. The heavy silence emphasised the clacks and scuffs of the pencil against paper, and the man squirmed in the atmosphere he made. Finally, as if he could bear no more, he said with an up-beat tone, "So, is this where you'll be building the crib?" He had a sheepish grin as he glanced around the shop, "You are the one who'll be building it, right?"
Davide paused what he was writing to focus on his answer, "Actually, I'm an apprentice… so, probably my master…"
"Ah, right!" The man said, frowning. "I was gonna ask you if you could sketch out a design for me right now -- there's some ideas I have for how it could look, but if you don't build--" Davide stopped writing and pulled the sheet of drafting paper up over the order book.
"Sure, I can sketch it out for you," he said. The man talked, hunched over the paper on the other side of the workbench, while Davide sketched, turning the paper for his opinion, and making edits here and there. And the chime of someone entering the shop sounded underneath it all, but Davide focused on mocking-up the ornate work his customer had suddenly decided on, and it was only some minutes later that he looked up, calling, "Won't be a minute!" and as he spoke, recognised the height, the build, the messy hair, the warm grin. He tried not to look too taken aback, but really he felt the rush of colour draining from his face -- or worse, flooding it -- and his customer had raised his eyebrows and peeked over his shoulder to see who he was looking at. "Bane-san…" Davide let the words drop from his lips, and then he shook his head and apologised to the customer.
And so did Bane, "Sorry! Not tryna interrupt, I'll hang back 'til yer done!"
But the customer wheeled round to Bane, "No, it's okay! I'm taking up all his time making him draw out a design -- it's for a crib! My wife's expecting our first child!"
Davide just watched his pencil over paper. "Oh! Congrats," Bane said, and Davide heard hands clapping shoulders, although he was sure they were perfect strangers to one another.
"Thanks! I'm just so excited to be a dad!" The customer said, chuckling, and Davide looked up, looked to get his attention to sign off on the drawing, but he had his back to the workbench, caught up in talking to Bane about babies. Davide bit his lip and waited. "I'm the first one in my friends' group to have a kid, I have no idea what to expect!" He laughed, and Bane nodded and smiled politely, and glanced past him, meeting Davide's eye. "What about you, you got kids?" he said, and Davide's heart plummeted again.
"Ahhh, no," Bane said, his face twisting between a frown and a self-conscious grin, "My fiance dumped me a few months back, so…" and Davide watched Bane's face as he no doubt went through the same process Davide had done when he was asked, and Bane shot Davide an apologetic frown. Sorry for talkin' about ya like yer not here, it said.
"Oh dear, not again! I just asked the carpenter if he had kids and he said his relationship ended as well!" The customer had placed his forehead into his palm with a decent amount of force, enough to carry a satisfying sound through the shop.
Bane grinned and nodded, and covertly rolled his eyes at Davide, "funny, that," he said, quietly, but the customer didn't hear it. Luckily. "Well, at least that guy's an uncle," he said. He pointed, and the customer turned back to Davide with raised eyebrows, saying, oh really! "His little nephew's the cutest thing."
"How old is he?" But Davide used this opportunity to push his sketch under the customer's nose. "That's great -- just like I imagined! Will your boss be able to make this? -- can I take a picture of this? -- I wanna show my wife!" The man tapped away at his phone, and Davide frowned up into the miserable expression Bane was showing him -- but Davide turned away, pulling out the paperwork on the workbench and scribbling away at it. "Great, do you need anything else?" the man slid his eyes up from the screen of his phone just as Davide shuffled his papers against the top of the workbench.
"That's it!" Davide said, and shook the man's hand, "We'll be in touch," he said, and when the man turned, he turned as if to catch Bane in conversation. But Bane had put himself deep into the furthest corner, and he stared at his phone, the blue light casting aside the shadows left by the early sunset and making him look serious. So the man nodded to himself, and left with a cheery wave, and a, say hi to your nephew for me!
Davide and Bane sighed under the sound of the chime and the clicking of the latch, and Davide saw a helplessness in Bane's eyes that he felt in his own heart. "Well, that was… awkward," Bane said for the both of them, and though Davide agreed, he shook his head.
"The customer didn't notice," he said, looking down at his fist, clenched around the pencil on the workbench.
"Sorry for -- iunno, he kinda caught me off guard… I just," and Bane shrugged, but Davide shrugged his shoulders too, without looking up. In the quiet of the shop, the ticking of the large wooden clock was louder than ever. Outside, a van screeched as it rumbled by. And Davide heard Bane take a step towards the workbench. "So, how's Ojii? He in today?" Davide shook his head. "Yeah, figures, 'cause you're out here…"
Davide heard Bane scratching at his neck, that thing he always did when he was nervous, trying to think of what to say, and Davide sighed and looked at him. Bane-san looked tired, he looked tired now every time they met up, but Bane never mentioned it, and Davide never asked. Still, it was like this was a different man to the one he'd always known: this one carried an invisible weight, and Davide's heart panged wanting to pity him, but he also knew it was no longer his business to do so. "Are you okay?" Davide said, fighting to keep it a casual question, and Bane sucked in a great mouthful of air before preparing to answer. And he exhaled. And he said,
"Err, yeah… I mean, I just stopped by because it's getting to quittin' time, right?" He nodded his head forward at Davide, raising his eyebrows, and glanced at the clock on the wall. Davide pointed at his own chest.
"Ah? Nearly?"
"Cool, 'cause I have a bit of time before my shift and I was wondering if you wanna grab dinner with me?" He hadn't even finished saying it before the panic showed in his face.
"O-oh, no, I can't--"
"No no no, not like, going for dinner with me -- God I'm such a-- just, y'know, getting some food, not like, DINNER dinner," and Bane rapped at his forehead with his knuckle.
"I know-- I can't, I have to," Davide gestured to the chair on the floor, and when he realised Bane couldn't see it, he said oh! And bent to pick it up, but Bane broke in again,
"Nah, it's okay-- I really wasn't like-- I just sorta wanted to hang out, but maybe some other time…" Bane stood, forehead bowed into his palm, and shaking his head. Davide watched him, and then he looked down at the chair, and then back at Bane.
Just go with him! But equal and opposing waves of relief and pain welled up inside Davide as he thought that, and he gripped his pencil harder and said nothing.
"Well, I better go--"
"What are you doing for your birthday?" Davide said, surprising himself by asking. And Bane's eyes widened, too.
"Ah, sleepin', probably -- I got the night shift tonight."
"What about the others?" Davide said, with an ache starting at the middle of his brow.
"Man, they want nothin' to do with me these days!" Bane laughed as he said it and he grinned as usual, but it was empty and Davide's heart ached at it. "Well, ya know, they all say they're busy but I know they ain't, but it's okay…" He looked away, smiling down at the ground, "I didn't wanna spend it with THEM, anyway."
It felt like there was an invisible wall between them, running right through the workbench. And it felt like Davide could try, yes, he could, try to step around the bench, try to say, you know what? I am hungry, try to be the friend Bane came looking for. But Davide could feel the wall, and with it he felt the phantom fear of running right into it -- like he might try to go to Bane and be repelled by it. Rejected. So Davide cast his eyes down and nodded, and listened.
"So! I thought, might as well get some extra hours in," Bane grinned up at Davide again. "Well, it really woulda been nice to hang out… no pressure, though!" He held his palms out flat in front of him. "I'm… just glad to see ya, speak to ya sometimes, so yeah."
The headache in Davide's temples was spreading. He felt his heartbeat quicken in the throbbing of his veins. He loosed his hair from its tie and refastened it just for something to do, and his heart was thrilling up with an uncomfortable fizz that was, You want to spend more time with him. But his mind shunted along its track, clacking hard on every painful jolt of pumping blood, and repeating in time to them: You Made Your Choice. You Made It For Him. Davide closed his eyes, and remembered Bane holding the baby, and in his mind he said, You're so selfish.
He felt a hand pat the top of his arm, and opened his eyes to see Bane, peering at his face, "You okay?" Bane said, and then, as he drew his hand away in the silence, he sighed. "Right, I'm gettin' on yer nerves now, huh. Sorry, I'll get goin'."
Bane-san turned away, and Davide's voice leapt out before he could stop it, "We should…! Hang out sometime..." Bane stopped, looking back over his shoulder, and showing a weak smile.
"Yeah, you just call me if ya wanna," he said, with a kind of soft defeat that seemed to finish, I won't ambush you again, don't worry. Bane waved his hand in parting, and the chime jingled as he pulled back the door, and then the door clicked into its frame, shutting out the temporary rush of the outside world. Shutting out Bane. And ten minutes or more passed by with Ojii's old clock ticking, and the sky outside getting duller, and Davide stood there behind the bench, his mind still loaded with words he had yet to say to Bane-san, in the conversation that was over and would never start again.
And the phone by the register trilled. Davide blinked himself back to the present. He looked up at the clock -- it had gone closing time by some minutes, so he rushed to bar the lock and turn the sign on the door (Sorry! We're closed!) before the phone stopped ringing. He put the handset to his ear and announced the name of Ojii's shop. The line crackled as the caller warmed up his voice.
"…..Hikaru….? Have you… closed up…?"
"I was just about to, Ojii," Davide said, his brow creasing, "I started the chair set. We had an order for--"
"….Hikaru… you don't… seem well…" And Davide's mouth felt dry. He licked his lips and tried not to think about how Ojii knew this, or about how he knew to call because the shop hadn't closed. "…Hikaru… close up… and do whatever it is… you need to do… to clear your mind… okay? Okay?"
"But, Ojii, the order we got today--"
"I know… you don't want… to build it… that's okay… Look after yourself… okay?"
It was dark outside by the time the shop was locked and shuttered, and Davide huddled the collar of his coat close to himself. It wasn't raining, but the streets were shiny, bouncing back the coloured lights from the stores in the town centre. And Davide pulled back his coat sleeve to look at his watch, trying to angle the face against the bright 24-hour glare of convenience store lighting, in such a way as to allow him to read the time. Well, Davide shuddered up to his shoulders with cold and with something else, the convenience store was open. He stood, a polite distance away from the automatic doors and the malingerers who always smoked and spat outside them once the sun sank, and he passed his hand over the back of his neck and glanced in the direction of home. His parents' house. Mama would have put aside some dinner for him; she'd be waiting to sit beside him at the empty dinner table with a cup of tea and cookies, and ask him about his day. He could go right now, his stomach churned because, he could go right now, and in fact, Mama would be waiting. He could go back home right now, and it would be easy: it would be easy, because that's what he was meant to do. And the wind pushed itself down the narrow tunnel between shopping streets, and the flush of it against his neck made Davide feel the clamminess of his palm, so he shivered and drew it away.
And, maybe they wouldn't have any anyway? So, with a frown heavy enough to make his face hurt, he strode into the store. Davide's eyes watered from the fluorescent high-power bulbs that crossed the ceiling, and his nose ran from that plastic-and-pine, industrial cleaner smell. Tired business people squinted at each other and queued up with arms full of their easy-dinners; teenagers looked furtively around as they peeked at magazines or condoms or cigarettes. And Davide walked among them -- as sorry and exhausted and defeated as the former, but as nervous and embarrassed and excited as the latter. He clenched his fists deep in the pockets of his coat, and found his way to his favourite aisle.
They had one.
They had many, actually, and twenty minutes later Davide was fidgeting outside another set of automatic doors -- far enough back that the sensor didn't greet him with a yawn -- and from there, the slight blue casting of the more stylish, 24-hour gaze of gym lobby lighting, made the evening inside the building look far more advanced. Davide rolled back his sleeve and looked at his watch, yes, the shift pattern was usually such-and-such for nights, and if so, Bane-san should be out in one of the training rooms, and unable to leave his post for a couple of hours yet. Good. Davide took one final peek into the little plastic carrier bag he'd brought out of the store, and his chest felt fraught with having gone to the point of buying one, and walking twenty more minutes away from his house, and even so his head ached softly with disappointment in himself.
And the girl on reception jumped when he cleared his throat, and he chewed his lip as she spoke to him:
"Oh! You surprised me! I totally didn't hear you come in!" Davide nodded his way through this; and a quick shock of cold shook his chest when his eyes landed on Bane, through one of the glass walls that separated different areas of the gym. He wasn't looking; he was nodding at someone in the training room and speaking, and then turning back to neatening a stack of equipment. "Are you a member? Would you like me to check you in?" Davide couldn't seem to turn back to look at her.
"No," he said, and Bane was laughing with whoever was in that room, but when he stopped he looked so tired -- and Davide turned to the receptionist, "Um, no, I'm not here a-as a… customer. Client. I, uh…" he lifted the little bag in his hand. "T-there's a… a staff member -- Kurobane -- he works here…?" of course he knew that he worked there. Of course a staff member worked there. The receptionist put her hand out for her telephone.
"Shall I call him for you? He didn't clock in that long ago--"
"No!" Davide startled her again, but she put her phone down, "I don't wanna distu-- I just, um. I came to give him this." He handed her the bag, and she peeked inside.
"Oh my gosh, he didn't say it was his birthday!" She giggled with delight, "I'll give him hell when he comes by for his break!"
"W-well, it's tomorrow, but… yeah… Will you give that to him?" Davide smoothed back a lock of his hair he could feel rebelling against his hairspray.
"Sure! Who shall I say left it?" As she said this, she was checking for a card or a message on the cake box by carefully tilting it in her hands.
"Davide." He thought it sounded weird from his own mouth, and the receptionist's eyes widened in that way most strangers' did, when they pinned that foreign name against those foreign features, and Davide could almost feel questions start to bubble up inside of her. "H-he'll know who you mean if you say that."
Davide didn't have to plug his key into the lock. The living room lights were still on, so he closed the gate behind him and stamped his wet boots on the mat. He sat on the stoop and untied his laces, and the living room door pulled open just behind him, and when he turned he saw his Mama waiting to greet him. She rushed over and kissed his forehead while he sat, and disappeared again into the living room. Davide sighed and shrugged off his coat -- and then, his stomach flipped, because his phone was out of his reach. He patted his coat pockets with a kind of desperation, until his phone hit against his palm, safe and sound, and underwhelmingly so. He drew his phone out, and the blood running through him thrilled as he thumbed the lock button, but he had no messages. He shoved his phone in his back pocket, shuffled on his slippers and followed after his Mama, and he hated himself for the momentary excitement, for thinking he might have a message, for wanting to keep his phone within reach.
She brought out his dinner, placed it in front of his seat at the kitchen table, and mussed his hair with her hand as she turned back to the kettle. Davide ate, and threw glances in her direction, and waited. She placed two cups of tea on the table, just beside Davide, and her plate of cookies, and the chair legs scraped on the tiles as she scooted herself closer to him. "You are late today," she said, in a tone that just missed being a question, so he hummed at her to acknowledge it as true. "Work?" Davide shook his head, without looking up from his plate. "A boy?" She said.
And Davide sighed. The answer wasn't no, but it wasn't yes.
"Just went shopping, that's all…" And Mama made a very thoughtful noise.
"But you didn't bring anything back?" She relaxed into her chair, just like she relaxed into speaking French, with a questioning smile on her face.
"They didn't have," Davide grappled with his tired brain to find the word in French, "Anything… that I wanted to buy." Mama said, oh!, and took a bite out of one of her cookies, and said nothing more until Davide had a mouthful of food to struggle with when she asked,
"Will we not see Haru-chan? Tomorrow?" She showed Davide a sad look, and with her awkward Japanese, he had the feeling their parent-child roles had been reversed.
"…Probably not," he said, aware of the burning blood in him that sizzled with the hope that he might. Mama placed her gentle hand on his arm, and he looked up at her.
"You still love Haru-chan," she said, without faltering. Without questioning. Without trying to convince him. Her sharp blue eyes were steady, and her face was almost grave with her words, and Davide almost thought she pitied him in that moment.
Davide frowned, he frowned down at his now-empty plate, and he said to the scraps and the patterns in the sauce, "Yes. I probably always will." Davide heard himself say it, felt himself say it. And he knew he meant it, too, and that it changed nothing. The plate bubbled up before his eyes, warped and distorted through tears, and Mama gasped and stroked his arm, and pulled tissues from beneath her sleeve to dab his face with. There was a great hollow in Davide's core that magnified the echo of his longing for his phone to ring; along with the fact that it hadn't, and with the likelihood that it wouldn't, and this was a painful truth to bear. But, yes: he still loved Haru-chan, loved him enough at least to bear his decision in all its agony.
Davide's tears washed away in the stream of the shower, and the comforting steam from the bath made his eyes ache. He closed the door of his bedroom and shut himself in with the nostalgic shape of it, and every time he entered he couldn't seem to forget the soft scent of childhood, and how he'd thought he'd left it behind for good. The light from his room faintly illuminated the tree branch outside his window -- the one Bane-san climbed up that night, when Davide refused to see him. Just-- Just tell me, I just gotta know why! Davide tried to close his eyes to force the memory out, and then he closed the blind. He hit the light, and slipped himself into bed -- and in the dark, he felt along the side desk for his phone. He held it in front of his face in the dark, and knew, because there was no soft pulse of blue light, that he had no messages. And Davide shoved his phone beneath his pillow, and clenched his eyes shut.
But sleep wouldn't come -- he saw Bane, Bane's tired face, the blood drained from it as it was that night. I just, I needta know why! He said, with hands that were knotted on his knees in front of him, and shaking, and then came the misery of hearing Bane's voice saying, Is there… Is there someone else? Davide sat up in his bed and flicked the light back on. He looked at his desk, his shelf with the sea shells he'd picked up as a kid, his dresser covered in hair products. He willed for any one of these, nearby, here-and-now items to take away the memory of Bane's voice. I'm not here to win you back, he'd said, and Davide's face in the here-and-now started to crumple, and why weren't you here to win me back, and why won't you come now and try?
Davide pushed his blanket off, and got to his feet, the Autumn chill stinging at his legs. The room looked dark, squeezing in between his wet eyelashes, and the lightbulb hadn't brightened yet, and he scuffed his kneecap painfully against the corner of his bedframe in his rush to get to the wardrobe. He let himself yelp with pain, but it came out like a sob, and his tears were forced to roll over his cheeks. He pulled open the door and sank to the ground, clenching the handle for balance. And, almost as if his brain panicking, about an injured knee or being close to falling down, overrode and silenced every other thought inside of him, he felt himself become settled, and he sniffed in a deep breath, and smeared away the tears and snot on his face. Davide's eyes opened then, and they were looking at the boxes he'd never unpacked since he moved back in with his parents. He'd taped them up and shoved them in the wardrobe, where he never had to see them, because even the tattered cardboard, even the 'misc' he'd written as a euphemism for 'the things that remind me of Him', even these had become keepsakes for his heartbreak, only fit to be looked at when he needed to punish himself. But -- he wiped his face with the back of his hand, and steadied himself in a kneel -- tonight he needed something else, or something more, and he tore back the tape with all the violence of his shaking hands.
It was right at the top, where he'd left it -- and the sealed box had kept a cloud of that scent, sticky screen door and crumbling ceiling, and Bane-san -- and he brought it up with both his hands and buried his face in it, breathing it in. Those who wear sleeveless shirts like to defend the right to bare arms!! Davide laughed into the fabric… and then he drew it from his face, a knot of worry forming in his stomach, that he might dirty it with his tears. He held it, fingers loosely clenched around the fabric, and tingling just to be holding his lucky shirt after all this time, and he drew himself up to his feet by the handle of the wardrobe, and closed it up again. He felt like his legs swayed as he made his way back to bed, rolling up the shirt between his arms and hugging it close like a comfort blanket. And with the light flicked off, it was easy. Under the covers, in their bed in their apartment, and Bane-san kissed his neck, and the thrill rushed out from his core to his curling fingers and toes, escaped in a gasp from his open lips. And Bane-san laughed at him, and it was easy, and Davide was happy and that happiness ached him awake again. He pulled his phone out from beneath his pillow to check the time, 2am, No New Messages.
And he was in the back workshop, building the crib, and he felt sick because it was for Bane-san. He sanded down the edges of the safety spokes for the side and struck the top down with a hard hammer and watched the wood splinter away from the epicentre. Davide looked up, and he was in the shop front and Bane was there, holding the baby. It's a boy! he said, My wife wants to call him Hikaru, and Davide could see his wife, too, standing beside them -- it wasn't the face of a woman he knew, but he knew her. He knew this was Bane's wife, and he knew that he hated her. His hand clenched around his hammer and he screamed, WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME BUILD THIS FOR YOU? HOW COULD YOU? I HATE YOU! Davide threw the hammer at them, all three of them, the wife, the baby, and he lifted the crib and rushed at Bane with it, and smashed it over his head and shoulders, until the wood splintered all around them --
Davide sat up in his bed, gasping for air. His throat felt raw like he'd been yelling, and when he clenched his hand over his chest he felt his pyjama shirt drenched in sweat. It wasn't on his hand. Davide grasped at his fingers, and felt nothing; he patted down his bed sheet, tearing up the covers -- then the side of his desk, patting the edge blindly and upsetting the items arranged along it. Gone. He flicked on the light -- and, oh. With the light on again, he remembered. He remembered where his ring had gone, why he no longer had it. Davide swallowed hard and pressed his hands over his eyes, and trembled. And, more than that, he trembled, because he felt like he'd lived the violence of his dream. He knew himself as wanting that monstrous catharsis, deep down in his core, and he was disgusted by it.
The light on the microwave said 4:13, then it changed as he keyed in the time for a cup of milk. The electric hum filled up his brain, and he steadied his breathing to it. He got his drink and sat down on the couch, next to Tama, smoothing one hand over tiny ginger ears and immediately pulling back, dicing with teeth and claws. He switched on the TV -- volume so low he could barely hear -- and watched comedians miming out their re-runs. Who in the heck even watches friggin' comedy re-runs at ass o'clock in the mornin', huh? -- That was when he'd been anxious about his exam in the morning, and he'd woken Bane up with the sound of the TV. He'd jammed the volume down on the remote and said, …me, and Bane had rubbed his eyes and shuffled over to the couch, dropping down beside him. Nah, he said, 'cause yer gonna come back to bed with me, aren'tcha? And even as he said it, he'd wrapped his arms around Davide and pulled him down, onto his chest, and was asleep in seconds. And Davide settled his head against the backrest of his parents' couch, and closed his eyes, listening to Tama's purring.
The living room looked weird in the faint blue of the sky, just starting to brighten, and Davide squinted around at his surroundings. He swallowed, but his mouth was gummy and his breath tasted bad. The TV was off, must have powered down while he was sleeping. And Tama had disappeared, probably off out to make the most of what was left of the night, and would no doubt be back in time for breakfast. Davide sat up and stretched, took his mug to the kitchen sink, then trudged back upstairs to bed. His room looked quite dishevelled in this early morning light -- the wardrobe door, open just a crack; the items on his desk strewn about; his blankets all scrunched and tangled. Oh, well. He sighed to himself and pulled down the corners of his quilt, smoothing out the top with the smack of his hand… and he pulled out his lucky shirt -- Bane's shirt -- and folded it on top of his desk. Then he lifted his pillow--
A soft, pulsing blue light.
Davide snapped up his phone and swiped it open - one missed call, Bane-san, 6:28am. Davide blinked at his screen, checking it against the time. About an hour had passed. He sat down on his bed and stared at the phone, and his thumb hovered over the call-back button. But the phone buzzed in his hand, and, startled, Davide mashed the green button and put it to his ear.
"Hello…?" Bane's voice sounded suspicious.
"H-hello," Davide said, and Bane talked over him with,
"What, did that even ring?" Then he laughed, and he said, "Hey," and Davide could hear him smiling. Davide was smiling, too. "Sorry, did I wake ya? I tried callin' when I got home--"
"No, I just woke up--"
"--I mean, I didn't wanna call so early, just I am beat," he stressed the last word, and the phone line frothed as he sighed.
"It's fine," Davide said, and he didn't manage to say, I'm glad you did!, and the words were stuck in his throat so he said, "H-how… was work?" Bane blew air down the line.
"Work? Well, it was-- it was work-- I mean, it sucked until the manager called me over for my break and handed me a birthday cake!" He laughed, and he sounded so thrilled, and Davide just giggled back at him. He slid himself into bed and pulled the covers over himself.
"It got to you okay, then?" he said.
"Man, thank you so much… Ya know ya didn't hafta--"
"--I wanted to…" Davide broke in.
"…Well… Thanks, Davi." Davide heard a rustling sound, like sheets moving, "Just, iunno, it was a really nice surprise… I wanted to call ya right away but it was like, 2am, so--"
"Happy Birthday," Davide said.
"Thank you… man, and to think." Bane's voice was muffled for a moment, as if he moved position, "I was beatin' myself up all night at work, thinkin' I'd hurt yer feelings… Y-Y'know?" He said, and Davide shook his head, before remembering he was on the phone, "Just, I feel bad for bringin' up yer nephew to that random dude in Ojii's place…"
Davide's eyes widened, "Oh!"
"E-ever since we had that talk, y'know?" Davide could hear Bane scratching at his neck, nervous, "I feel weird even mentionin' him…"
Davide listened to the silence fall between them. "He's a part of my life," he said, evenly, "and so are you." He heard Bane's breathy laugh crackle down the phone.
"Man, I'll take that! After the past few months, I'll take that…" The line fell quiet again, apart from a rustle on Bane's end, and Davide could hear him yawning some distance away from the phone.
"…Are you in bed?" Davide said, and Bane half-interrupted his yawn to say, wha--?, and then he cackled.
"Yeah, I'm in bed! I'm shattered," he made a noise like he was stretching and then he went on, "what about you, you up for work?"
Davide let his head sink into his pillow, and he smiled, "No, I'm in bed, too." There was a pleasant flutter to the self-conscious air that followed this revelation.
"Well, great, what're ya wearin'?" Bane laughed, and then he groaned, "Sorry… I'm yer friend like 2 minutes, an' I'm already flirtin' with ya… " but Davide chuckled at him. "Just, we've had a lot of fun conversations like this, huh?"
"I missed it," Davide said. He missed Bane flirting with him, and he missed getting calls at all hours of the night; and the telephone call joined them so they were together. He missed being together. But, "I missed talking with you," was all he could let himself get away with, and Bane said,
"Yeah, same… I'm really glad we're friends again, man." And there was a great vacuum left by these words. And Davide heard them, and agreed, and knew bitterly it wasn't enough. He tried to hear, in some quirk of Bane's voice or breathing, if he was satisfied with his words, but he couldn't tell, he couldn't tell. Bane yawned again, it sounded deliberately, "Well…" he said, and Davide knew his chance to change anything was over, "I am… SO tired, I'd better get some sleep…"
But Davide didn't want him to go. "Did you shower?" he said, and Bane scoffed at him.
"Yes, mom…!" Davide could hear Bane's eyes rolling from the tone of his voice, "Don't worry, I know I'm not as well-groomed as you are, but I can still take care of basic hygiene without ya!"
Davide felt his nerves jangling his stomach. Just try, just try again! "W-well… I worry about you, is all…" And Bane laughed, and he said, Awww!
"God, ya don't gotta worry about me!" Bane said this with some defiance, and then he said, "Nah that's not fair, I mean. It's really nice, actually… but I promise you I'll shower and brush my teeth and eat all my veggies! So…"
"Okay…" Davide said, making sure Bane could hear his reluctance, "so long as you promise…?"
"Don't sound so sad!" and Davide smirked to be scolded by Bane again. "Oh yeah, I'm gonna hit the hay, but when I get up I'll probably go over to my folks' place for dinner." There was a pause, and Davide felt the invitation, "Save ya a slice of cake…?" Bane said, voice of temptation.
"Yeah, you'd better," Davide said, and Bane laughed, "and a strawberry!"
"You drive a hard bargain! But, sure." They listened to each other sighing for a few more seconds. "Well, g'night, Davide…"
"Goodnight, Bane-san." The phone beeped against Davide's ear as the conversation ended. Davide reached up to the desk beside him and pushed his phone onto the surface. Then he closed his eyes and remembered what it was like when he'd say goodnight to Bane-san, and kiss him, and fall asleep in his arms. He held on tightly to the thought, in place of holding tightly to Bane-san, and fell asleep with it keeping him warm.