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With only his backpack and a heavy bag full of pastries, Mika walked to the entrance gate, let himself in, strode up the pathway, and rang the doorbell. He bounced anxiously on his feet until the door opened.
“Hi,” he said faintly, smiling with relief. He knew the teddy bear hat looked ridiculous with the Victorian little boys’ getup he was wearing, but it was comfortable, and far less important than the fact that he was here, safe.
“Hi.” Shu stepped back and Mika hurried in, letting the door shut. Mika removed his boots and followed Shu to the kitchen, wondering if anybody else was home.
“Um, I brought matcha croissants and tea. Local specialty stuff. I thought you would like it.” He set the bag on the table and placed his backpack on a chair, toeing the floor. Despite how much time they had spent together before, that was before Shu started going abroad. Now Mika felt like an uncultured, useless fool, even though he was attending a decent school himself, even though Shu hadn't called him useless in years, and even though he was living alone and doing just fine.
“I could use some tea.” Still wearing pajamas under his shawl collar cardigan despite the time, Shu lifted everything out of the bag, looking it over before grabbing his favorite tea pot and cups. He filled a kettle and set it to boil, leaning on the counter and watching Mika, who finally sat. Kicking his feet, Mika stared at the table in front of him, ignoring the very thorough gaze observing his every move and probably judging him, too. When the kettle finished, Shu made two cups of tea. He set them on the table, frowning. “You’ve been making a face this entire time. What is it?”
“I’m not smart enough for a fancy university, not good enough to get a job, and I dunno if I made the right decision. Decisions. All of them.” Slouched at the table, Mika pouted at the floor, looking like a sad puppy. He flopped back against his chair, utterly deflated, and voiced the heavy truth hanging over them. “Plus, we haven’t seen each other in forever.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Huh?” Mika’s head snapped up at the unexpected question. “Uh… before I went to the bakery.”
Shu glanced at the antique clock on the wall and tsk-tsked. Opening the box, he lifted out a croissant. “Eat it.”
“N-no, I couldn’t.” Hands folded in his lap, Mika tried to play it off, and Shu saw right through him. Giving him a chiding look, Shu ripped the croissant in half and laid it on the table. He put the other half on his side and went to the refrigerator, returning with a plate of fresh and salty rice balls. Laying the plate down, he took the seat across from Mika and picked up his half of the croissant. The crust was golden and dusted with powdered sugar. Underneath was fluffy white pastry, and at the core, creamy green liquid. It was buttery and sweet with the bitter edge of matcha, and upon finishing Shu immediately reached for a second and devoured it. Mika was watching him the entire time, nibbling on his rice balls and sipping his tea. When caught, he glanced away, making an uncertain expression.
After taking a third croissant, Shu closed the box and took a long drink of his tea. He hadn’t consumed matcha in some time, and it was refreshing. The earthy bitterness paired well with sweets, and he leisurely made his way through the last of his food. As he sipped his tea, he looked at Mika, who sat upright but still looked sad.
Standing, Shu opened his arms. “Kagehira.” He was brisk and no-nonsense. “Come here.” Even the most obedient puppet could disobey, and the most carefully handled doll could break; he didn’t need it to happen again. Mika leapt from his chair and threw his arms around Shu, burying his face in the gap between the cardigan’s collar and Shu’s neck. They held each other tight, only the sounds of the clock and their breathing filling the room.
“I wanna snuggle.” Mika whined quietly. “Like we used to.” It didn’t matter that he always wore his old, soft clothes, cozy blanket scarves, fuzzy socks, or even the stupid bear hat; nothing compared to a hug from a real person.
Shu stepped back, and Mika’s arms fell to his sides. “Dishes first.” With a hopeful gleam, Mika gathered the empty plate and cups. The sink was exactly as he remembered, and he washed and dried as if he had gone back in time. After putting the box of croissants in the spot on the counter where he always put his baked goods, Shu disappeared without a word. Mika trailed down the hallway until he reached Shu’s room, where the boy in question was sitting on the bed and staring out the window.
“The teddy bear!” The oversized replacement teddy bear sat on a corner of the bed, and Mika went right up to it, scooping it into his arms, nuzzling his face into it, eyes closed and smiling gently as he breathed in the faux fur scent. He opened his eyes to Shu giving him a bit of a sad look.
“Toys can never give satisfactory snuggles.”
Mika clambered onto the bed and into Shu’s lap, still clutching the bear. His shorts rode halfway up his thighs and his cravat squashed against the bear’s head as his shoulder poked into Shu's chest. Shu paused; the bear was nearly the size of a third person and he couldn’t comfortably get his arms around both. He settled one arm along Mika’s shoulders and the other on Mika’s head, tugging off the hat and pressing a kiss to Mika’s temple. Humming contentedly, Mika relaxed. The original bear still sat on the highest shelf, carefully repaired and enclosed in a glass display case. Shu’s veritable army of dolls and plushies still filled the room alongside his ever growing stash of craft supplies, and the vaguely creepy yet familiar gaze of their fake eyes was comforting.
Shu chucked the bear hat to one corner of the bed. After hours of wear, it had flattened Mika’s hair to unacceptable levels. Threading his fingers into the strands, Shu ran his fingers all over Mika’s scalp to fluff up his hair. Satisfied at last, he returned his hand to the bear.
“You always gotta fuss over my hair,” Mika mused. “It’s not like my appearance matters nowadays.”
“No! It bothered me. Your hair was not as it should be and I had to fix it.”
“My maintenance?”
“If you like.”
As they sat enjoying each other’s warmth, the day’s exhaustion crept up on Mika. Given Shu’s pajama-clad state, he bet the other felt the same and casually suggested they take a nap. Blinking heavily, Shu agreed. The bear rolled to their feet as they crawled under the blankets. Shu curled up facing the wall and, just like they had done so many times before, Mika curled up against his back, close as a shadow.