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Mom would be sad that he blew up the omiai she had set him on, but honestly, she shouldn’t be surprised. Shinobu had always insisted that it was because of his dedication to his career, to his work, that he didn’t care for marriage and settling down, having a wife, having kids…
And it was even the truth, up to a point. He did care more about his work as a doctor than getting out there to find a woman to marry. But it was not the only thing. It was not even the main thing, but he couldn’t tell his mother that, not when there was no point to it because nothing would ever happen.
The complete truth was that his heart was caught so long ago that he didn’t even remember when it was, or where, or why, and he simply couldn’t seem to imagine sharing that part of himself with a random woman. Or any woman, period. Or, truly, not even a man. Not if that man was not Souta. Because Shinobu had been in love with that idiot since forever, and no matter how many fights they had or how far a distance Souta moved away, that never changed.
But back then it was a dream that could never be. Not when a boy loving a boy in a tiny sleepy town like theirs wouldn’t have been tolerated by society, and not when Souta was hurt and so angry that he had decided to leave.
Souta’s last years in Kagawa were hard for everyone, Shinobu included. Seeing the despondency in which his best friend regarded the place, his wish to go far, far away and never come back—it hurt. Shinobu had even thought, even if just for a moment, about going with him, but it was only a daydream. He had the funds, he would have even had his parents’ support as long as he kept on studying medicine, but he didn’t have the spirit. Even back then, Shinobu knew himself well enough to be aware that he wasn’t built up for a life in the city. He was a country boy at heart, even with his love for cars and nice accommodations. He liked his space, liked quiet evenings, liked the comfort of familiar sights and routines. He’d never have survived life in Tokyo.
So when Souta packed all his things and went away, Shinobu bit his tongue and said goodbye, knowing deep inside that it was probably the last time he’d see him but at the same time praying that it wouldn’t be.
They kept in contact, yes. Souta called from time to time and if he didn’t then Shinobu did, but...it was not the same. It would never be the same. Souta was making new friends and living new experiences far away from Shinobu, and Shinobu hated it.
He threw himself into his work.
It distracted him. It kept him busy, sometimes even too busy to think.
But it was never enough.
And then the old man died and Souta was back in Kagawa, and for a moment Shinobu felt his heart was going to burst with hope.
But even that was temporary. Nothing Shinobu said would make Souta change his mind, and so he snipped and snapped and told him to sell the restaurant and never come back, if that’s what he really wanted. It was half-hearted at best, and by the way Souta reacted it was obvious that he didn’t really take it seriously. Shinobu almost hoped he would do so—truly cut out all the ties to the place—if only because he’d been carrying a torch for his best friend for more than fifteen years, and the weight was becoming too heavy to bear. Maybe if he disappeared completely from Shinobu’s life, the flame would finally die out…?
(Something squeezed inside him and it hurt to breathe. No, no. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to cut Souta out of his life completely, he wouldn’t know how to survive without him. Even if it hurts, he prefers it.)
Then, two days after Souta arrived, he got a call from his best friend about a lost boy. Shinobu was too tired and too overworked to really pay attention to it, so he dismissed it with a ‘take him to the police’ and hung up.
He completely forgot about it, and so when he went to Souta’s house and there was a boy right there, small and blond and sporting fluffy ears and tail, Shinobu froze. Oh, Souta tried to cover him up and then somehow the strange little appendages were gone and only a boy with big blue eyes and a smile so bright that could rival the sun remained, but Shinobu had seen. Something about it rung a bell, but he couldn’t put his finger on it yet.
He didn’t mention it then, but he noticed. Souta was too nervous, too on edge, and Shinobu knows that he does stupid things when he’s like that, so he let it be. Oh, he kept a close eye on the kid after that, and tried to make Souta think things over without ever letting him know that he knew there was something going on, but then… then he started getting attached. And Souta—from one moment to the other, it seemed, he changed so much. He cared so much. And Shinobu didn’t know how to handle it. He was acting like a dad to a boy he couldn’t have known for more than a few weeks, if that, and one who wasn’t quite normal, to boot. (He knows what he saw!) And it played on his heartstrings, it did, seeing them together.
And it brought back feelings he thought he’d buried so long ago, but which were obviously lurking right beneath the surface, ready to surface back at the smallest chance to pull him back under.
He can’t deal with this again. He can’t.
Can he?
The kid, Poco, might not be normal (though normal is a loaded word as it is), but he’s just that, a kid. And a kid who’s made Souta happy like Shinobu hasn’t seen in years, not really. Poco grew on you. Shinobu noticed that there was not one person Poco met that didn’t end up liking him. And Souta... Souta loved him like a son, and the way he acted reminded Shinobu so much of Souta’s mother that it was impossible not to jokingly call Souta a ‘mom’. And then Rinko called him, Shinobu, a father when he was playing with Poco, and Poco beamed and called him Nakaji, and Souta smiled at him, and the bittersweet painful feelings came back with a terrible force.
He drowned. He lost.
He won.
God. That smile.
He fought off bullies for that smile.
He became a doctor for that smile.
He can definitely become a parent for that smile. Gladly so.
If only Souta, the dumb asshole, would simply notice.