Chapter Text
Waking up with frozen boogers is probably a bad sign, but given that the space heater had given out sometime in the night, Okuyasu was relieved that he had woken up at all. There was another heater in the bathroom, which he crouched in front of, trying to get some feeling back into his fingers before he braved the icy carnival ride of taking his pajamas off so he could put his cold, stiff clothes on. It helped, but the bathroom heater was way too small to keep his bedroom warm on it’s own. Okuyasu made a mental note to buy a new one on the way home.
“I’m going to school!” Oku yelled from the top of the stairs before pulling his scarf up over his mouth. He was going to the Higashikata’s first, though. Mrs. Higashikata often found a burst of energy on Monday mornings and would make a big, hot breakfast for herself. To stave off incessant begging she usually made enough for Josuke and Okuyasu too.
“Good morning, Mrs. Higashikata,” Okuyasu said when she opened the door.
“You could smell french toast from your place, huh?” She looked Okuyasu up and down, “You wanted to borrow some of Josuke’s hair stuff?”
Okuyasu blinked, suddenly aware of the hair falling into his face. “Oh, no, I guess I ran out of the house without putting my hair up. It was really cold this morning.”
“In your house?” Mrs. Higashikata smirked as she led Okuyasu into the kitchen.
“Yeah, my heater gave out,” Okuyasu said as he slung his scarf over the back of a chair and started taking his coat off.
Mrs. Higashikata paused, her spatula hovering over a skillet of french toast. “Are you okay?”
“It’s fine, I’ll just pick up another one on the way home.”
“Oh, so your heat still works.”
“No,” Okuyasu shrugged, “But it’s okay.”
There was a clatter and Okuyasu looked up to see that Mrs. Higashikata had dropped her spatula. The french toast on the stove burbled on, unperturbed by the expression on her face. “Okay?! It was twenty degrees last night!”
Okuyasu froze, unsure how to turn time back a few seconds and stuff the words back into his mouth. Or pause things so he would have the time he needed to think of a explanation for not turning his heat on that did not involve admitting that his home had the structural integrity of swiss cheese.
It was then that Josuke emerged from the bathroom, shiny eyed and enveloped in a cloud of minty steam.
“Morning,” He said to Okuyasu, before noticing that his mom looked like she’d just been told Okuyasu was a member of the Donner Party. “What’s going on?”
Mrs. Higashikata picked up her spatula and put two pieces of french toast on a plate. “Nothing. Okuyasu’s going to be staying with us for a few days.”
“What?” Josuke said, looking from Okuyasu to Mrs. Higashikata and back.
“I don’t have to,” Okuyasu began, before Mrs. Higashikata thrust his breakfast at him.
“Yes, you do,” She said, and the force of her glare was such that Josuke and Okuyasu had to sit at the kitchen table or risk their knees giving out from under them. “The heat’s broken in Okuyasu’s house,” She explained to Josuke.
Josuke shrugged and gave a weak attempt at humor, “So’s the windows. Never bothered him before.”
Mrs. Higshikata whirled on Okuyasu, “All those windows are still broken? Does your father know about this?”
Okuyasu and Josuke exchanged a look. As far as Mrs. Higashikata was concerned, Okuyasu’s father was overseas for business, and the only reason he wouldn’t know about the rickety condition of the Nejimura Manor was an inability to keep track of time zones.
“It’s no big deal,” Okuyasu began.
“Maybe not in the summer,” Mrs. Higashikata snapped, “It’s December! You can not live in a house with broken windows.” She stalked off in the direction of the living room. “Where’s the phone book? I’m calling a contractor.”
“Dude,” Okuyasu hissed at Josuke, “You can’t let her do that! How am I supposed to explain the bullet holes in the walls? Or dad?”
Josuke picked up a fork and gently prodded the plate of toast Okuyasu had forgotten he was holding. He wouldn’t meet Okuyasu’s eyes.
“Josuke?”
Josuke gave Okuyasu a cheek splitting smile. “You want me to put your hair up for you?” He asked, even as he was leaving the table, headed for the bathroom.
“Josuke, seriously!”
A moment later Josuke returned with combs, gel, and hairspray, “Look, man,” He said as he began to brush Okuyasu’s hair into the proper configuration, “You had to get it fixed eventually. This way mom’ll take care of it.”
Okuyasu opened his mouth to remind Josuke that this was not a detached rain gutter they were talking about-there was still some of his brother’s blood on the third floor for chrissake-but Josuke cut him off before he could even start.
“You should eat that toast before it gets cold.”
“I can’t,” Okuyasu mumbled. Josuke was standing right in front of him, way too close for Okuyasu to get a plate to his mouth. He could hear Mrs. Higashikata in the other room, her voice gone flat and polite as she said, “Yes, I would like him to come see it as soon as possible. This morning would be good.”
Josuke continued to brush Okuyasu’s hair. He picked up his little tub of gel and Okuyasu wanted to tell him that he was doing it wrong, just to be spiteful, but then Josuke unscrewed the lid and the scent of wet roses wafted up to Okuyasu and he decided to just let this happen. Maybe it was strange, and probably about to get very complicated, but Okuyasu liked this. He liked getting up early and getting a hot breakfast. He liked that the whole house was warm and he could smell bread and syrup everywhere. He liked that he could hear Mrs. Higashikata already arguing with a contractor, and he liked Josuke’s hand resting on his temple as he carefully brushed Okuyasu’s hair back.
Hell, maybe things wouldn’t be strange and complicated at all. Maybe his life would continue like this, safe and comforting as a warm blanket. It never had before, but why not start now?