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“Wow,” Shuichi mutters, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “I don’t speak French, but I’m pretty sure that what that guy just said was really rude.”
Rantaro only knows bits and pieces, and certainly not enough to be impressive, but he speaks enough to understand that what “that guy” said was a string of cuss words, so yeah, not polite, by any stretch of the imagination. Still, Shuichi had been standing in the middle of the sidewalk on his phone, so he can’t exactly say the detective is entirely blameless. Not that Rantaro is really in the position to be taking sides with anyone except his boyfriend, though, because Shuichi was only on his phone to check the list of notes that they compiled a couple weeks ago in regards to his sister’s locations.
That list of notes brought them to Paris, France. After New Orleans, of course, though Rantaro hadn’t been very optimistic about that city yielding any results. He only lost two of his sisters in America, and he lost neither of them in Louisiana, but rather the East Coast, and the Pacific Northwest. Still, it was a nice trip, and aside from the part where he almost got shot (Shuichi still won’t let that go, annoyingly) he had a great time. He was even able to make a couple new business connections for his father.
In Rantaro’s opinion, that counts as a half win. Though not enough to appease the ever-growing unrest in the pit of his stomach with every failure.
Nonetheless, he shoots Shuichi a grin, resting one of his hands on the small of his boyfriend’s back as he guides him closer to the inside of the sidewalk. They step under the overhang of one of the storefronts behind them, watching as a variety of people go about their business. “To be fair,” Rantaro starts, inviting Shuichi to glare at him and dare him to continue. “You were blocking the flow of traffic.”
“I was on the sidewalk!” Shuichi protests. “And that guy was like a bulldozer. He plowed right into me and cussed me out, he doesn’t get to be upset. He probably could’ve stepped on me, and I would have died.” That’s a bit of an exaggeration, Rantaro notes. He needs to talk to Kokichi about the time he’s spending with Shuichi, because the supreme leader is definitely rubbing off on him. Still, Rantaro chooses not to comment. “Anyway, there are a couple places that we wrote down on here, but…” he squints at the list. “Ugh, I knew we should have typed it… your handwriting is really bad at night.”
“I’m offended.” Rantaro states, and he’s clearly joking, but Shuichi still frowns at him, looking as though he’s going to apologise. (In order to prevent such an occurrence, the adventurer rubs his back, quirking a smile.) “Maybe I can decipher it?” So Shuichi passes over the phone and Rantaro squints down at it, but he’s not sure if that’s supposed to be a hiragana no or a me. There is little distinction between a and o as well, which isn’t doing the writing any favours. Also, he’s pretty sure that’s a mu, but it might be an o…?
Shuichi looks as though he’s suppressing a smile at Rantaro’s perplexed look, so with a huff, the adventurer hands back the phone. Thankfully, he’s got a pretty good idea of the places they need to go to, so it shouldn’t be a-
The cracking of thunder in the distance snaps Rantaro out of thoughts and he looks up at the sky, frowning at the grey clouds that have seemingly rolled in from nowhere. The Paris skyline, which is generally pleasant, is dark and foreboding, like the beginning of Superman II. (Well, he knows it took place in Paris, at any rate… the clouds may or may not have been a feature. Also, was it the second or third movie that Lois almost fell off the Eiffel Tower? Rantaro is seriously behind on his media references.) Just as he manages to redirect his thoughts to the present, thunder rumbles again and rain starts to fall from the sky.
“Ah… I should’ve checked the forecast this morning.” Shuichi mumbles, tucking his phone into his pocket and pressing closer to Rantaro. At the moment, there isn’t much to worry about, because they’re still standing under the awning, but the appearance of wind will throw any protection they might gain from standing here out the window. That in mind, Rantaro pulls on his jacket, using it to cover Shuichi as best he can. They only have a three inch height difference so it’s admittedly awkward, but from the way the detective’s ears redden at the action, perhaps it’s appreciated.
“Look at you, not bringing a coat.” Rantaro teases. “It’s the middle of autumn, did you really think it wasn’t going to rain?”
“You’re mean.” Shuichi closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Rantaro’s shoulder despite the fact that he just called him mean. “I already have a sweater, I was worried that I’d get hot. Besides, I’m not the one who gets sick all the time.”
“It’s not all the time, I only get sick-” Rantaro pauses to think about it. “...maybe a little more than the average person.”
Snorting and shaking his head, Shuichi opens his eyes again, looking as though he’s about to say something. But thunder rumbles again, cutting him off, so he steps away from Rantaro’s side to creep to the edge of the overhang and look out onto the sidewalk. The adventurer tracks his movements with his eyes, wondering what the boy is looking for. Moments later, he turns around and walks back over, shrugging. “It’s not coming down too hard, and the lightning is pretty far away. I think it’s still safe to look around today.” Shuichi says lightly, sliding his hands into his pockets.
Despite the nonchalant way the detective says this, Rantaro is unconvinced. “You don’t have a coat, though. I know you don’t get sick like I do, but it’s still a possibility, and-”
“So we should waste a day here instead?” Shuichi raises an eyebrow. “If you were by yourself, you’d be plunging ahead regardless of the weather.” It’s true, but he shouldn’t say it. “C’mon, it’s not a big deal. Worst case scenario you can buy me an umbrella, or something.” He speaks evenly, and though Rantaro is reluctant, when he has that glimmer of near-confidence in his green-grey eyes, it’s impossible to deny him. So he refrains, instead choosing to nod. “Where to first?”
As he considers a response to that question, Rantaro shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Shuichi’s shoulders, looking away so that he can avoid any protests that the detective might have. (In the corner of his vision, he sees Shuichi roll his eyes, but he still slides his arms through the sleeves.) Eventually, he nods to himself, looking back okay. “Alright, I know. It’s a bit of an out of the way route, but I know how to get there.” What he doesn’t say, but what is implied, is that last time he was here, he took that route, and somewhere along the way, he lost somebody else.
Wordlessly, Shuichi takes one of his hands, slides it into the pocket of Rantaro’s coat. “Okay. Lead the way.” He smiles, that familiar, reassuring smile of his, and Rantaro releases a breath, feels his nerves settle. No need to dwell on the crappy things right now. They’re working to amend that part of his past, so why feel crappy on it when he doesn’t have to?
Still, he makes sure his hold on Shuichi’s hand is tight, just in case.
Sucking in a breath, Rantaro hunches his shoulders and steps out into the rain. Shuichi was right when he said it’s not coming down too hard; the sidewalk isn’t entirely wet yet, and he can still see rather far in front of himself. But with the dark colour of those clouds, he’s no doubt it’s liable to start raining a lot harder very soon. Better walk quicker, then. Rantaro starts off in the direction he thinks will be the quickest for them, feels Shuichi’s fingers tighten on his own as he keeps pace.
It’s important to note that Rantaro doesn’t necessarily have photographic memory. He doesn’t remember everything, and certainly not exactly as it was, but bits and pieces tend to stick in his mind a lot more clearly than others. It’s been over half a decade since he’s last set foot in Paris, yet when he reaches the cross street he knows will lead to where he wants to go, he remembers it vividly.
A short close of his eyes and he’s back in a sunnier day, with a larger entourage. Bright colours and the sound of laughter perforating the air. Another hand in his, much smaller than Shuichi’s, but Rantaro’s hand is smaller too. Less rings rest upon his fingers. Every glance behind him shows him flashes of green hair and eyes just like his, laughter in every smile. The memory is sweet, and tastes like the sticky vanilla ice cream he had for breakfast that morning. But it darkens quickly, as all things seem to do.
“Rantaro, can you slow down a little?” Shuichi sounds reluctant, but also breathless, and Rantaro almost halts walking entirely, swallowing down the lump that’s risen in his throat. His surroundings are too familiar, and on his own, in the closed off way that he travels, he can hold it together, but with somebody like Shuichi, who he can be vulnerable around, it’s not- “Hey.” They do stop walking now, and hands are cupping his face. A pair of grey eyes appear in his vision. “Come back to me.”
A few puffs of air from Rantaro’s chapped lips and the cold pinpricks of rain on his back remind him of himself. It’s not rare for Shuichi to stabilise him, like this, but it still doesn’t sit quiet right, like a bag of shoes in the middle of a stack of boxes, compromising the balance of all the other stacks in the area. Though, Rantaro thinks idly, if a single bag of shoes can cause so much damage, then maybe the other stacks shouldn’t be there to begin with.
“You okay?” Shuichi’s voice continues, floating past his ears, and Rantaro nods dumbly, shaking off the chill that appears not as a result of the rain, but the memory. He watches his boyfriend’s lips press together in disbelief, but they relax into something kinder, more patient, as he leans forward and kisses Rantaro on the forehead.
Rantaro finds his voice. “I’m sorry, about that.” He clears his throat, even though his words don’t come out scratchy. “It’s… a lot.”
“Mm.” Shuichi nods, but he doesn’t offer to go back to the hotel, or call it quits for the day, which Rantaro appreciates, because he’s certain he’d say yes if the detective suggested it, and then hate himself for it later. Instead, he laces their fingers back together and gives an encouraging smile. “A little slower, this time. Talk to me.”
He takes a breath and continues walking, slower now, keeping an eye on his surroundings but focusing a part of his awareness on Shuichi’s hand, in his, and their fingers, interlocked. “You told me you’d only ever been on a plane once before going to Los Angeles a couple weeks ago, right? Where did you go?”
“Oh, uhm…” Shuichi pauses to think about it, as though he doesn’t quite remember. “It was a domestic flight, actually, so not anywhere exciting… my uncle just had a particularly important case and he didn’t want to leave my aunt or me behind.” He shrugs, seeming indifferent. “I remember it being extremely long and absolutely boring.”
Chuckling, Rantaro nudges Shuichi with his elbow. “Your uncle said you were an energetic kid.”
Frowning, Shuichi looks over at him. “I regret having him pick us up from the airport. That was a whole car-ride worth of time for him to embarrass me with travel puns and stupid anecdotes from my childhood.”
“I thought the stories were adorable,” Rantaro offers, then grins when Shuichi flushes. (The rain has successfully made his hair and face wet, so the reddening of his pale cheeks is only accentuated.) “I like hearing about the way you were growing up. I’d have liked to know you back then, you know?”
Huffing, Shuichi shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure I was annoying and pretentious back then. Not the kind of kid you want to spend time around.” He rolls his eyes, then smiles slightly, glancing at Rantaro again out of the corner of his eye. “I wouldn’t have minded knowing you, though. What were you like, growing up?”
“Irresponsible and careless.”
“Nooo…” Shuichi squeezes Rantaro’s hand, a lot tighter than necessary in his opinion, and glares at him. It’s a semi-serious expression but it still makes Rantaro avert his gaze. “Hey… Rantaro, you know-”
Before Shuichi can finish his sentence (which seems to be a pretty common theme today) thunder rumbles once more, a lot louder this time, and perhaps as a result, it starts raining a lot harder. Rantaro is pretty used to extreme weather- he’s even camped in some of it- but his jacket isn’t a rain jacket, and even with it, he’s pretty sure, at this point, that Shuichi is going to catch a cold. He looks around, wondering how far they’ve gone and if it’s even worth continuing, but the rain is falling like a sheet. Despite himself, Rantaro shivers. His clothes are completely soaked through. He knew he wasn’t going to be comfortable, but this is just downright unpleasant.
“We should head back.” He looks at Shuichi when he says it, watches the detective for a reaction. His eyebrows furrow slightly, but otherwise, his expression barely changes.
“Are you sure? I’m alright to keep looking if you are. I don’t want you to feel burdened by my-”
Gently, Rantaro cuts him off. “I’m feeling cold, and probably ready to call it quits.” It’s a low blow, and he knows it, but Shuichi will listen if he says it’s because of his own problems. Sure enough, his boyfriend nods simply, reaching up to brush a few wet strands of hair out of his face. “We can come back here later, when the weather is better. We’ve got a few days left here.”
“That’s fine.” Shuichi murmurs. “You’ll feel okay about it, right? You won’t feel bad because we went home?”
“Well, I’m not exactly unused to failure.” Rantaro means it as a joke, but Shuichi’s face darkens when he says it, and he immediately wishes he could pull the words back into his mouth until the detective stands on the tips of his toes to kiss him. When their lips touch, Rantaro feels warmth shooting from his mouth to his fingertips and the corners of his body; instinctually, he leans closer, resting his hands on Shuichi’s back as he reciprocates. (It’s almost second nature for him, now, to drop everything and kiss back whenever Shuichi does this.) The rain water still falling from the sky makes the kiss sweet and cool, but Shuichi’s lips are still warm, and familiar against his.
When they pull back, breathless, Shuichi cups the side of his face again, narrowing his eyes. “I’m banning you from self deprecating. If you self deprecate from now on, I’m going to kiss you until you shut up.”
Somewhat huskily, Rantaro replies, “That doesn’t exactly sound like a punishment.”
“It’s not a punishment,” Shuichi snorts. “Think of it as positive reinforcement.” He moves down the hand that was cupping Rantaro’s face and adjusts his necklace so that the clasp is in the back. His gaze slowly drifts back to meet the adventurer’s, and he smiles lazily, but the concern is still there, in the back of his eyes. “Let’s head back to the hotel so you don’t die of hypothermia.”
“Speak for yourself.” Rantaro mutters. “You’re shivering.”
“Okay, so neither of us is very well off.” Shuichi shrugs, leaning forward and pressing a soft, lingering kiss against Rantaro’s jaw. It makes him shiver, but for an entirely different reason. “C’mon.” He whispers, his breath ghosting against Rantaro’s neck.
Suffice to say that he does.