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It wasn’t moving.
Why?
Why couldn’t he get his face to move?
Shigeo stared in the mirror, a day’s worth of frustration peaking. He should look as irritated as he felt, and yet his reflection stared back at him blandly.
This shouldn’t be so hard. It usually wasn’t. Or at least it had been getting easier and easier lately, and now this… Why was today being so difficult?
Shigeo leaned forward, hands pressing onto the cool countertop hard enough to make his wrists protest. He dared his reflection to reveal any of the emotion building up inside of his chest. All he got was a tiny downward twist to his lips before his eyes got dry from not blinking for so long.
A knock on the bathroom door startled him. The boy in the mirror twitched minutely.
“Shige, kiddo, Teruki’s here to pick you up. Don’t take too long or your mother will steal that poor boy and drag him out to the garden. You know she has been dying to show it off to anyone who steps foot in the house,” his father warned.
Joked.
He was joking. Shigeo knew that. He should laugh or sigh and go rescue Teru. His mother probably wouldn’t take him outside, but she may talk his ear off.
“Shige?”
Shigeo tried to shake himself, balled his hands into fists.
React. Come on, body. React.
His mouth finally cooperated. “I’ll be down in a minute. Thank you.”
“Okay.”
His father’s footsteps thumped back down the stairs.
Shigeo’s heart twisted. He didn’t feel ready for a date night. Didn’t feel up to going out in public and feeling like… Like whatever this was. Didn’t want to face Teru when he couldn’t smile. When he couldn’t laugh at his jokes or look interested in his funny stories.
Heat swelled in his chest, up to his throat. He wanted to cry.
His eyes stayed dry.
Muffled chatter from downstairs floated around the small space.
Shigeo should… he should go downstairs. Come on, ready? Ready, go. Go downstairs. Open the door and go get Teru away from his parents before they pulled out a picture album.
Dull eyes stared back.
Damnit.
Using an unreasonable amount of willpower, Shigeo ripped his gaze away from his reflection and went out into the hall. He was halfway down the stairs when he realized he had never changed his clothes. They were still sitting in a pile on the bathroom counter. He still had on the faded pair of jeans and Ristu’s yellow hoodie. His favorite pink one was in the wash. These were clearly comfort clothes, not date night clothes.
Um. It was too late to turn back, he guessed. Teru had already heard him coming down and was looking over and Shigeo was going to be embarrassed and frustrated and his face wasn’t going to show any of it.
Except when Teru turned to look at him, it wasn’t embarrassment that hid itself from the outside world.
It was concern. And confusion.
Teruki stood by the door, his mother’s hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t wearing date clothes either, (Though honestly, with Teru it could be hard to tell sometimes.) and his hair was sticking up like he’d run his hands through it countless times. By the time Shigeo got to the bottom of the stairs he could tell that Teru didn’t have any makeup on either. Something that was getting more and more common but was a rarity for date night.
“Hey, Shigeo,” Teruki said, stepping forward to meet him.
Shigeo’s mother patted Teru’s shoulder on the way out of the hall. One small pat on Shigeo’s shoulder as well. And then she was gone.
“Hi.” The esper was screaming to say more. To ask what was wrong. But something was short circuiting between his brain and his mouth. He couldn’t ask all the questions churning in his mind.
He reached out and took Teru’s hand instead. At least his stupid arms still worked.
Teru squeezed his hand a little harder than usual. Concern bubbled in Shigeo’s stomach. He really needed to ask what was wrong.
“You aren’t dressed.”
That wasn’t what he meant to say at all.
Two emotions flashed so quickly across his boyfriend's face that Shigeo struggled to catch them. The first was a flicker of annoyance, something almost never directed at him and that hurt. The second came like a wave, Teruki’s expression crumpling into something miserable and then calming.
“You aren’t either.” Teru’s voice was slow. Gentle.
Shigeo looked down at himself like he needed the reminder. All he could do was shake his head.
“I was thinking...” Teru sounded tired. “Maybe we could just hang out tonight? Uh, get MobDonalds or something… I think- I’m really craving a milkshake. Would that…? Would that be okay?” There was forced cheerfulness. A fake smile that dropped too soon to be convincing in the slightest.
Shigeo hated it. He hated even more that he wasn’t calling Teru out on it.
Against his wishes, he ignored all the sirens screeching that something was wrong. He nodded. It wasn’t like he wanted to go out anyway.
“Cool, cool. Everything okay with you? You’re… being quiet.”
Shigeo didn’t want to burden Teruki if he was already having a hard day, but relationships didn’t work like that. It wasn’t okay for him to pretend he was alright. He looked to Teru desperately. Imploringly. He wanted to communicate how much his chest hurt. How much he felt trapped in a body that had shut down.
He had no idea if any of it was reaching him.
Teru blinked at him, mouth puckering into something sympathetic.
“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse. “Today sucked, right?”
Shigeo wrapped his arms around Teru’s neck, hugging him as closely as his sluggish limbs would allow. He tucked his nose in to brush against the soft skin of his boyfriend’s neck, scrunching his eyes shut. Warm arms circled around his back, Teru’s hands fisting in the thick yellow fabric.
It didn’t do anything to extinguish the frustration stuck inside of him, but at the very least Shigeo felt loved.
Teru breathed out long and slow, squeezing Shigeo so that there was no space between them. Then he slumped and stepped back. Shigeo let him go, but only so far. He tucked his fingers into the cloth of his boyfriend’s faded shirt.
The smile Teru gave him this time was real. It was small and wobbly, but so genuine it made Shigeo want to smile back.
He didn’t.
It didn’t take them long to walk to MobDonalds. Shigeo barely said a word, which really wasn’t that unusual. However, Teru was being quiet as well and that was unusual. Shigeo watched as Teru was extraordinarily polite with the employee behind the counter, the concern bubbling in his stomach elevating to an unhealthy froth. What was it about seeing Teru smile and wish the worker a fantastic night that made him want to throw up?
Why did Teru keep smiling when his eyes were getting red and watery?
Why couldn’t Shigeo smile at all?
Shigeo wasn’t supposed to eat in the living room, but his mother took one look at the boys and said they could eat the food on the couch. Just this once. And don’t drip grease on anything.
They ate quietly. Shigeo didn’t like it.
Teru flipped through the channels on the TV, his eyes distant and glazed. His free hand fidgeted with the empty burger wrapper, the constant crinkling making Shigeo want to scream. Or maybe it was the fact that even if he did want to scream, he probably couldn’t.
How had he lived like this for so many years? But no, this wasn’t the same as how he used to feel. He used to push all his feelings down, down, down. He wasn’t expressive because it didn’t feel like there was much to express until suddenly there was too much. Now his emotions were vivid. Roiling right under the surface as clear as day and he just couldn’t. Get. Them. Out.
Shigeo lowered his half-eaten burger back to the bag. Wiped his hands on the napkins. Leaned a little more into Teru’s side.
He’d had days that felt like a backwards step instead of forward progress before. Days where his emotions were all dulled and muted, difficult to process and articulate.
This felt like a total regression. A relapse. He was completely stuck. Why was this-
“I called someone a commoner today.”
Teru’s voice was brittle. Bitter. Shigeo watched him carefully, tucking his problems into his pocket if just for a minute. Teru deserved his full attention. Especially if he couldn’t offer the level of interaction he usually did.
“Not out loud. Just- just in my head, but still. I thought I was doing better than that. Everything was annoying me today. Everyone at school was driving me crazy. The teachers kept saying things and setting me off and I kept thinking awful crap. At first I couldn’t tell if I was tired, or if everyone really was being an idiot, or if I was just being a gigantic asshole. But I’m pretty sure it- I-“ Teru choked on the words, curling up and pushing his forehead into his knees.
Shigeo’s heart ached. He bit his lip and snuck his hand into where Teru had hidden his own, pinned between his chest and knees. Threading his fingers through Teru’s, Shigeo offered wordless support.
“I don’t want to be like that anymore. I’ve been trying so hard to change. I was horrible before and every time I think something bad or- or arrogant I feel like I’m letting you down,” Teru confessed.
He looked over at Shigeo, eyes red-rimmed.
“I don’t want to be a bad person anymore.”
Shigeo made himself hold eye contact. It was critical that he say the right thing right now. No random, barely related word garbage that he had been spewing today. Teru deserved his full effort.
Shigeo took a steadying breath, face still infuriatingly impassive.
“Having bad thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person,” he managed haltingly. “Everybody thinks bad things.”
“Yeah, but-“
Shigeo interrupted him, not sure how long he would be able to sustain his limited eloquence.
“Everyone thinks bad things sometimes. Everyone. I do. You are a good person, Teru. I promise. You’re trying hard every day to improve yourself. That’s what a good person does.”
Teru held his hand like he was drowning, his face creasing. A tear slipped past his lashes, but he wiped at it before it could fall. It smeared under his eyes, a bright streak reflecting the light from the TV.
Holding hands wasn’t good enough. Shigeo crawled up to turn and hug his boyfriend properly. Or as properly as one could on a couch. Teru put his legs down and tugged Shigeo until he was almost in his lap. It wasn’t a rib-crushing hug like earlier. It was soft, full of rumpled sweatshirts and the smell of french fries. Their ears kept brushing. Teru sniffed, pressing a kiss to Shigeo’s shoulder.
An infomercial for stackable Tupperware filled the silence.
When Shigeo felt like Teru might be okay, he pushed back to sit up. He was wrong, apparently.
“No, no, you stay here.”
Teru maneuvered Shigeo back down so that he could lay across his legs with his head on the armrest pillow. He ran his fingers through Shigeo’s dark bangs, his other hand resting on Shigeo’s chest. Shigeo cuddled Teru’s hand in both of his, tucking his knees into his boyfriend's side. He definitely could not see the TV like this, and he didn’t care one bit. This was safe and cozy and good.
Looking up at Teru's openly expressive face was almost painful. Teru was gazing down at him with affection and gratitude and Shigeo wished with every fiber of his being that he could return it.
“You had a shit day too, huh?” Teru chuckled wetly.
Shigeo squeezed his eyes shut. The only reliable way to make a face in his current state. He nodded.
“Did something bad happen?”
Shigeo opened his eyes and huffed out a big breath of air. He needed to try harder. He needed to keep moving forward.
“No,” he said. “It- I hmm… I woke up happy. But. I went to brush my teeth and I didn’t look happy.”
This was stressful. The whole day was blurred into a mess of frustration. Picking the parts that were meaningful was like wading through mud.
“That made me feel weird. Bad. And slow. I needed more time to answer questions at school, so I didn’t do well. I knew the answer in math today. I just didn’t say it. Tome-chan yelled a lot. No one could hear me. So I stopped talking.”
The only sign of his distress was a slight hitch in his breathing, but he could still feel his face being as unaffected as ever.
“I’m sorry.” Teruki let his fingers trail through Shigeo’s hair. His thumb traced one of his thin eyebrows. Shigeo scrunched his eyes shut and put all of his energy into making his face move. His brow furrowed slightly, and Teru tenderly smoothed it back out.
“I feel everything like I should, here.” Shigeo tapped a finger to his chest and then raised it to point at his face. “But nothing will happen here. I um, tried to make faces in the mirror and it didn’t work. I don’t like it. It- it’s scaring me, Teru.”
He didn’t think he had ever wished his voice would crack. Or waver, or something, anything instead of this nothingness.
“I’m sure it won’t last forever,” Teru tried to console him. “It’s just a bad day. Tomorrow you’ll probably be back to normal and making all sorts of cute faces.”
Shigeo’s stomach flip flopped. His cheeks flushed a little, and that in itself was encouraging.
“See? See?” Teru gushed, brushing the back of his fingers over the blush. “There you go already! Tomorrow can be a better day for both of us, okay? We can leave today behind. Today was just Teru-ble.”
Shigeo blinked up at Teru’s goofy grin, and then his mouth popped open and his eyebrows shot up.
Oh God. Oh no way was that going to be the thing that made him crack. But it was too late to take it back.
Shigeo covered his face, light, breathless laughter escaping from him. No, that was so stupid. He could feel his face turning bright red. This was unacceptable. Put it back. Teru was never going to let him live this down. Hey, Shigeo remember that time you were feeling trapped and miserable and I saved the day with puns? Yeah. You’re welcome.
Oh God.
“Oh my gosh, really? Really, Shigeo? That’s what does it? I’m so happy, this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened. Look at me, hey, Shigeo…Hey, hey…Are you laughing or crying?” Teru’s voice tapered off into something careful. Soft.
Shigeo let his hands fall back to his chest, his face damp. His eyes were streaming.
“I don’t know,” he warbled. There was so much coming out at once. All his frustration, worry, embarrassment, relief, and love all scrambled together and erupting from him in a shaky mess.
The amount of tenderness and understanding in Teru’s eyes was overwhelming.
Shigeo hiccupped.
“Oh… oh, Shigeo, you’re alright. You’re okay.” Teru perched his feet on the coffee table so that the esper was nestled in as much as possible. He leaned over Shigeo and touched their foreheads together. “It's okay.”
Another funny little laugh sounded when Teru kissed his nose.
“This is dumb,” he insisted.
“Very. But you’re laughing so it’s fine.”
“Please don’t tell Ritsu,” Shigeo pleaded miserably. “He can’t stand your puns.”
The utter glee on Teru’s face at the idea was terrifying. For a moment Shigeo feared he had just fanned the flames of something that should have been left alone. But then Teru took another look at the desperation on his boyfriend’s face and sighed, shoulders slumping.
“I won’t tell anyone how much you love and depend on my puns,” he conceded like it was some great sacrifice.
“Thanks… Thank you, Teruki.” Shigeo rolled so that he was snuggled into Teru’s belly. He pressed his hot face into the fabric, hiding.
Hands rubbed his back soothingly.
“I guess it would take a good person to make you laugh, huh?” Teru ventured, suddenly unsure.
Shigeo peeked up from the folds of Teru’s shirt.
“The best person, Teru,” he reassured. Then he squinted. “Don’t tell Ritsu that either."
Teru laughed, almost knocking his milkshake off the arm of the couch.
“Can I tell him you steal his sweatshirt all the time?”
“No.”
“Can I tell him you steal his sweatshirt and its too big for you?”
“No. Teru why are you like this?” Shigeo shook his head, his hair sticking up everywhere.
Teru smiled down at him so happily that Shigeo stared. And then he smiled back up with the sheer delight of being able to do so.
“Because it makes you look like that.”