Chapter Text
He sees them every day at exactly four in the afternoon, these three boys, racing past the gates on their bikes and shouting like maniacs. Eiji thinks they must be going home from school based on the backpacks they carried, but he will never know; Eiji has never been to school and he has no idea where it is in this town.
They look strange, those three—one is short and looks like he is no older than ten, the other has purple hair in spikes, and the last one is always wearing a red hoodie no matter the weather. That hoodie is what made Eiji take notice of them in the first place; he was sitting by his bedroom window the day after they moved in and saw a flash of red, and ever since then he has waited for those three to pass by.
It’s silly, Eiji knows, but he is fascinated by them, these people who can roam outside freely. He will never get to know how that feels like. The farthest Eiji has gone is the gardens at the back of the house, and even then he is often accompanied by either his father or Yut Lung, his caregiver. They will give Eiji an hour every morning to bathe in the sunlight, nothing more, nothing less. He follows a strict routine: wake up, eat breakfast, take his pills, go to the gardens, drink tea with Yut Lung, pills, study, have dinner, another round of pills, and then bed. The routine only breaks on Saturday when he devotes his afternoons to piano lessons with sir Blanca.
He never complains about it. It’s what’s best for him, just like dad always says. Eiji cannot handle the outside world yet. It’s too dangerous, too unknown, full of liars and users and everything else his father warned him about. There will come a time when Eiji eventually gets stronger, and when that happens Dad promised him he will take him to the town square at Christmas just like Eiji has always dreamt of.
Just be patient, little bird, he’ll tell him as he poked his nose, making Eiji giggle. Your time will come soon.
So for now Eiji sits by the bedroom window, curtains drawn but with just a tiny gap left in the middle for him to peek through, and perks up when he hears the familiar ding of the short kid’s bike. His is the only one equipped with a bell, but the boy in the red hoodie has a basket in his.
They go pass Eiji’s house in a blur. He manages to get a glimpse of them before they’re gone, disappearing around the corner into a street that Eiji doesn’t know what looks like.
There’s a knock on the door. A few seconds later it opens to reveal Yut Lung, holding a tray that has nothing but a pill and a glass of water in it, and Eiji quickly scrambles to pull the curtains shut.
“Here,” says Yut Lung, placing the medicine on Eiji’s outstretched hand. Once he’s done, he places the tray aside and looks at him critically. “What happened to your hair?”
Eiji swallows before saying, “What do you mean?”
“I just braided it a few hours ago,” Yut Lung tells him. “And now it’s all unraveled. Again.”
He touches the strands falling over his forehead. “I’m sorry. The braid was too tight. It hurt my head, so I took it off.”
Yut Lung sighs. “Come here, Eiji.”
“Why?” he asks, confused.
“So I can do your hair again,” Yut Lung answers, opening the drawers to search for Eiji’s brush. “Well? Come on, sit before the dresser. Your father will get mad at me if I left you looking like that.”
Eiji tilts his head and decides that no, he doesn’t want Yut Lung to get scolded, so he says, “Okay.”
“Hmm,” says Yut Lung, eyes meeting Eiji’s in the mirror. “Your hair’s getting longer. We’ll have to cut it next time. Mr. Okumura insists it stays at shoulder-length.”
“He does,” confirms Eiji. “Mom always wears it that way.”
“I see. These accessories are hers, right?” Yut Lung says as he picks up a hair tie adorned with tiny sapphires.
“Yes. Dad used to give her lots of those,” says Eiji, smiling. “He really loves her.”
“I can tell.” Yut Lung’s hands still. “You look a lot like her.”
“You think so?” he replies, smile growing wider.
Yut Lung finishes his hair and says, “More and more with each passing day.”
Eiji tries to picture his mother, but then he suddenly hears another ding, and his heart leaps as he imagines himself riding a bike down the road, orange leaves swirling around him. Just a little more patience, Eiji reminds himself. Your time will come.
When it does maybe he’ll cut his hair and get out of these clothes his father has picked out for him. He wants a hoodie just like the one the boy was wearing, but in blue, and he wants a bike with both a basket and a bell.
He looks at his reflection: braid hanging down his shoulder, brown eyes hidden beneath long lashes, yellow nightshirt hanging loosely from his skinny frame, he looks no more than fifteen. He thinks he looks beautiful—he must be if he resembles his mother—but weak, and he cannot afford to be weak anymore if he wants to experience all of those things.
Christmas is only a few months away, and Eiji tells himself that this year he’ll finally get better and go to the town square to see all the lights and people, and how wonderful will that be?
“Eiji, are you alright?” Yut Lung’s voice breaks through his thoughts.
“Yes,” he says, nodding. “I’m fine.” He hears the double front doors groan open, and he gets up quickly. “Dad’s home! Come, Yut Lung, let’s see what gift he brought me.”
He sees her through the living room window every Saturday afternoon, sitting before the grand piano, in a white cardigan and dark hair tied in a braid. Ash can only see a part of her from where he is, but that’s enough to arrest his curiosity.
Saturday afternoon is the only day and time that the Okumuras will open their curtains. They never opened their windows, or gates, not even when their haughty servant comes up the driveway to meet Ash and take the bouquet from his hands. He always has to squeeze them between the iron grids.
Ash will always linger for a few more minutes after the transaction, just long enough to watch the girl play the first notes of Clair De Lune and not get shooed away. He’s learned his lesson. The last time he spent more than five minutes on the sidewalk, the servant came back out and yelled at him to go, and it’s embarrassing as it is annoying.
He wonders why the girl is always wearing a cardigan and a blanket over her body, and why she never seems to notice Ash. He thinks she might be home-schooled; he’s never seen her at the hallways or the lockers, and he doesn’t even know Mr. Okumura has a daughter until Griffin had asked him to deliver flowers here a few months ago and he had seen her.
Today Ash brings fresh yellow daisies. He has just relinquished them to the servant, who glares at him, and Ash sticks out his tongue in retaliation once the doors close behind him. He can see the girl stop playing and clap excitedly when she sees the daisies, and somehow the sight of it makes the difficult trek up the hill slightly worth it.
Ash stands there in the pavement holding his bike and watching as the girl started pressing the keys again. He can hear the faint sound of Clair De Lune coming through the window, making the cold air feel melancholic. Ash is mesmerized. He’s never learned to play an instrument and he isn’t exactly a fan of classical music, but he can appreciate a good performance, especially when it’s only a few feet away and the pianist is an enigma.
Mr. Okumura sits on an arm chair just behind the girl, head swaying along to the music, and when he looks up he meets Ash’s eyes. His expression turns from wistful to sour. Startled, Ash hops on his bike and pedals out of there, the leaves that has gathered in the basket of his bike scattering in the wind.
Cursing himself for running like a chicken, he stops. Ash looks back at the street leading up to the small hill where East Cottage—the infamous and most expensive house here in town that the Okumuras moved into seven months ago—is located, the piano still ringing in his ears. He suddenly regrets not taking up Shorter’s offer last April to throw toilet paper over the cottage gates, because Mr. Okumura really needs to get knocked down a peg.
As if summoned by his thoughts, Shorter stops next to him on his ridiculous orange bike. He gives Ash an open-mouthed smile, showing off the fake piercing on his tongue, and Ash says, “What are you doing here?”
“I saw you going down the hill like someone was chasing you with an axe and as your best friend I thought I’d help you,” Shorter replies with a shit-eating grin. “So, what’s up? You look pale. Did Mr. Okumura finally caught you peeping at his daughter?”
Ash flushes at the accusation. “I—I’m not peeping!”
“Uh-huh. Sure. You just, like, pass by their house everyday in the hopes that you’ll get to see her,” says Shorter, laughing. When he sees Ash’s red face, he adds, “Holy shit! He did caught you, didn’t he?”
“I already told you, he didn’t,” says Ash. He kicks the bike forward, Shorter following him. “Not like there’s anything to be caught for. I’m not peeping. Or spying. Or anything you’d like to call it.”
“Then why do you insist we go by their house everyday?”
“Because it’s the best path to take. There’s way less cars and the sidewalks aren’t cracked. We already talked about this.”
“Okay—then why do you bring her flowers every Saturday?”
“It’s literally my job, Shorter. You know Mr. Okumura orders flowers from my brother’s shop.”
Shorter shrugs. Ash thinks that will be the end of it, but then his best friend opens his stupid mouth again. “Is she hot?”
“Jesus,” says Ash, exasperated, and Shorter chuckles. They bike in silence, until Ash finally asks, “Don’t you think it’s weird, though?”
“What is?” asks Shorter. He points at the ice cream shop where some of their classmates are hanging out. “Check it out. There’s Denice Morgan.” He whistles low. “I’m going to ask her to the dance this year.”
Ash adjusts the basket of his bike. “Go for it. Anyway, as I was saying, don’t you think it’s weird? She’s the only person not going at our school. I bet there are only a few people here in town who even knows Mr. Okumura has a daughter. She’s never been out of that house, I can tell.”
Shorter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause you’ve been watching her like a creep.”
“Seriously, man,” says Ash. “Think about it. No one ever visits them besides that scary piano teacher. And their windows are always shut. Like, who does that?”
“Dunno,” says Shorter. He suddenly grabs Ash’s arm, forcing both of them to stop in the middle of the street. “Hey. Hey. So what if—like really, what if—the Okumuras are actually, wait for it,” Shorter takes a deep breath and widens his eyes for a dramatic effect. “Vampires.”
Ash gives him an unimpressed stare.
“Ah? See what I’m saying?” says Shorter, gesturing between the two of them. “It explains why they never let in any sunlight, or why Mr. Okumura looks like he has a stick up his butt. Only vampires can be that snobby. Or rich.”
“Stop it with that bull, okay. I’m serious here.”
“Me too. Remember when he refused to throw back Cain’s baseball when it landed on his lawn? Old man’s got some issues.”
“I give up.”
“Aw, Ash. Work with me here.”
“This is exactly why Denice Morgan won’t ever go out with you,” Ash says, shaking his head.
Shorter only smirks. “Just watch me, Ash. Denice and I’ll get together before middle school ends while you pine over Wednesday Addams over there.”
“Wednesday—you know what, never mind. I’m done. I have to give this money to Griffin.” Ash drove away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll meet you at the arcade later! Bring Sing!”
Shorter gives him a thumbs-up.
Eiji sees him, the boy with the red hoodie, standing across the street on a Sunday morning. That’s never happened before—he is usually with his two friends, and even then it was only to pass by. They never looked at the house, much less stand before it.
So what is he doing here?
He peeks at him through the thin curtains of his bedroom window, so he looks more like a mirage rather than an actual person. Eiji holds his breath as the boy starts to shove his bike behind the bushes, him following suit quickly after, thinking he is well hidden when the truth is Eiji can clearly see his blond hair poking through the leaves. The glasses of his binoculars are catching sunlight, making it glint.
Eiji wonders whether he ought to call for Yut Lung. His caregiver will know what to do with boys spying on their house, he is sure.
The boy’s head swivels from side to side, surveying the front porch, perhaps trying to see if Eiji’s father is home. Eiji sits back, filled with a mix of dread and curiosity, and his eyes stray to the open sketchbook on his desk. His hands want to reach out to it—but no. No, he shouldn’t communicate with him. People who spy on others can’t be trusted.
Eiji peeks at him again. The boy remains on his spot, watching the house like a hawk, tongue poking out the side of his lips. He doesn’t look dangerous, although his friend with the purple hair seems so. But people are liars and users and maybe this boy wants to steal from them.
He quickly stands up, intent on finding Yut Lung, but he slips and takes hold of the curtains and—
Rrrriiiipppppp. The fabric gives way, and Eiji falls hard on the floor. The curtain falls over his head, and for a moment he is shrouded in darkness. He clumsily gets back on his feet and spins around for a few minutes, trying to get the heavy cloth off him, and once he is done he steadies himself. He exhales. Eiji stands there, heart beating fast, before he realizes that sunlight was streaming through his now exposed window and the boy across the street has his binoculars pointed straight at him.
Eiji screams.
The boy jumps and lets go of his binoculars just as Yut Lung bursts through the door with an “Eiji! Are you okay? What happened?”
He doesn’t answer, just points at the window. Yut Lung strides over, pokes his head out, and catches sight of the boy scrambling to get his bike upright.
“You!” yelled Yut Lung, pointing at him. “Hey! Hey—stay there! Why you—get back here!”
The boy doesn’t obey him. He swings his leg over the seat, swipes his binoculars off the pavement, then goes off in a cloud of dust.
Yut Lung lets out a frustrated noise. Eiji plops down on the bed, a hand to his heart.
Ash is dead. He is so dead.
“Griff! Hey, Griff!” Ash calls out the moment he gets home. “Griffin!”
He throws his backpack on the couch.
“In here,” Griffin’s voice drifts from the kitchen. He goes out into the hallway with an embarrassing yellow polka-dot apron, and if Ash isn’t scared out of his mind he might have teased him for it. “What is it, Ash?”
“We have to move out,” Ash blurts out.
“What?” says Griffin, confused.
He shakes his brother by the shoulders. “Pack your bags! We’re getting out of here!”
“Whoa, slow down,” says Griffin, bringing his hands up. “What happened?”
“Mr. Okumura’a going to kill me,” he tells him.
“Ooookay. And why is that?”
“Because—um, well—you see…”
“Uh-um-well—speak up, Aslan.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he finally says. Ash shakes his head. “Look. We have to get out of here.”
“Ash,” says Griffin, tone laced with worry. “Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”
“Oh my God, what if Shorter was right and he was a vampire?” he says, pacing around the floor. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God—"
Griffin studies him. “See, this is what happens when you spend all summer down in the basement playing Dangers and Dragons.”
“Dungeons and Dragons!” Ash corrects him.
“That’s what I said,” Griffin retorts. “Your imagination’s running wild again.”
Ash whines. This isn’t going to work. Griffin doesn’t believe him, and he is too embarrassed to tell him about the real reason why Mr. Okumura might be after him. He tries to think of a way to get him and Griffin out of here safely, but before he can the phone rings, scaring the living lights out of him.
“Hello?” Griffin says when he picks up. “Yes, it’s me. Huh? Yes, he’s here. What?” He looks over at Ash. “I see. I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him.” He sighs, and Ash just knows he’s in trouble. “Okay. I’m really sorry. Thank you. Bye.”
“I’m gonna go to my room,” Ash says right away.
Griffin turns to him, hands on his hips. “Spying? Really, Ash? ”
“I didn’t see anything, I swear!” he defends.
“That’s not the point,” says Griffin. “What were you thinking? Mr. Okumura’s our customer. Our neighbor. Why would you do that?”
“Look—he’s strange! The whole thing’s strange! Their windows are all covered, the gates are always locked, and his daughter doesn’t go to school!” Ash explains, hand waving around wildly. “I was curious. I wanted to see what was really going on. And there’s something, Griffin. I just know it.”
Well, he doesn’t. He hasn’t really gotten anything before he got busted, but Griffin doesn’t need to know that. Ash’s instincts were tingling every time he went past East Cottage, and he trusts his guts.
“Okay, first of all, it’s not strange. What people want to do with their homes and their lives is none of our business,” Griffin tells him pointedly. He shakes his head then pauses. “Wait—daughter?”
Ash grumbles, embarrassed at being scolded. “Yeah. The one with the stupid braid. She’s always playing the piano.”
Griffin looks lost.
“See?” says Ash. “You don’t even know about her. Not strange my ass.”
“I haven’t seen any daughters,” Griffin admits. “But he does have a son. And his hair is always tied in a braid.”
Now it’s Ash’s turn to feel lost. Mr. Okumura has a son? But Ash knows what he saw; the soft clothes, the feminine features. That was a girl, no doubt about it…until now.
Is he wrong? Is Griffin pulling his leg? He looks at his brother and realizes that he’s completely serious. Oh God. Really? So all this time Ash is watching a boy?
Well shit.
“What, don’t tell me…” says Griffin, gazing at Ash’s confused expression. He gasps. “You were peeping at his son?”
“Ewww! No!” he denies immediately. He takes a step back. “That’s gross!”
Ash hopes the earth would just crack open and swallow him up.
Griffin pats his head. His eyes are soft. “It’s alright, Ash. I get it. You’re thirteen and you thought he was a girl—”
The earth better hurry up.
“It happens. I understand,” Griffin continues. Why won’t he stop? Ash wishes that he will stop. “And you can talk to me about anything, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you should hide something from me—"
“Ugh! I’m not listening to this!” says Ash, covering his ears and shutting his eyes. “La-la-la-la-la, I’m blocking you out!”
“Come on, Ash. I’m just saying.”
“Why’s Ash acting like an idiot?” he hears Sing ask.
He cracks one eye open and sees Sing, Cain and Shorter on the doorway, looking at him skeptically. Cain has a basketball tucked under his arm. Ash slaps a hand to his forehead. He completely forgot about their game, too focused on his mission this morning.
“Ash—” Griffin starts.
“Don’t!” he warns.
“Wait, let me guess,” says Shorter. He stares at Ash for a few seconds, then suddenly his face lights up. “He was caught peeping at Mr. Okumura’s daughter.”
Sing’s face twists in disgust. “Really, Ash?”
“Shut your grade-schooler mouth,” Ash snaps.
“Well, yes and no,” answers Griffin. “It’s actually his son.”
“Holy shit!”
“What?”
“What is happening? Am I missing something?”
“Stop!” shouts Ash. “No more. We will not talk about this. Not now, not ever.” He stomps up the stairs. “And I was doing reconnaissance!” He mumbles, “Wasn’t spying on any boys or girls or whatever the hell the Okumuras are.”
“Is that what they call it these days? Renaissance?” says Shorter, wiggling his eyebrows, and Ash resists the urge to point out his wrong vocabulary. “Hey lover boy, where are you going? We’re still playing, right?”
“I don’t want to any more!” he says, petulant.
“What a baby,” comments Sing. Rich, coming from him.
Ash slams his bedroom door shut to drown out Shorter’s boisterous laughter.
He doesn’t see them anymore. Eiji sits by the window like he always does, waiting for the clock to strike four, but there’s no wheels squeaking or the familiar ding of the short kid’s bike.
He sighs. Eight days. It’s been eight days since he last saw them, and Eiji doesn’t know whether the blond kid told his friends not to take this path anymore because of what happened last week. Eiji supposed that he should be relieved; after all, he doesn’t have to worry about creeps lurking around the house anymore. His father will be delighted.
Music sheets are scattered across the bedroom floor, but he has no energy to review them. He has already perfected Clair De Lune. He doesn’t know what piece he wants to learn next. Maybe he’ll let sir Blanca decide the next time he sees him, and maybe Eiji will also ask him about what he did for Halloween this year.
He has no idea what people does on this holiday. He sees pumpkins displayed on the doors and sidewalks of the houses in front of them, and little children parading around as different characters, but he doesn’t understand what it was for. What’s the point of going around in uncomfortable clothing and asking for candies? It doesn’t make sense.
It also looks very fun.
Eiji entertains the thought for a while, him wearing a costume, but quickly discards the idea when he realizes that he probably won’t be able to walk around town. He’ll get tired quickly and Yut Lung will have to carry him back home. It’ll be a burden to both of them.
“Medicine,” Yut Lung announces.
Eiji takes the pill dry and goes to bed even though it’s only five. He feels drained. Yut Lung fusses over him, repeatedly asking if he’s okay, but Eiji is already drifting off to sleep.
Ash sees him again—Mr. Okumura’s son or daughter or whatever, he doesn’t care anymore—on a Sunday night, in both an awkward setting and situation.
Really, this is all Shorter’s fault. Sing’s too. Maybe even his brother’s. Ash will blame the whole damn world just for the sake of it.
Because now Mr. Okumura’s son is staring outside his window directly at Ash, who is clinging at the tree branch for dear life and with a bunch of gum in his mouth. He looks like he’s frozen in place, and Ash hopes he can get back down before the boy calls for his father.
He looks down, trying to gauge the distance between the branch he is on and the ground, and curses under his breath when he finds out that there’s no way he can jump from this height without at least breaking a bone or two. He can't have that. It will be impossible to climb over the gates while injured. Seriously, damn Shorter and Sing! Ash is gonna lose his life for a stupid bet.
“I’ll give you half my candy if you can go up his bedroom window and stick gums on it,” Shorter had told him.
“Why would I do that?” said Ash. “That’s disgusting. ‘sides, I don’t want your stupid candy. I have a better haul than you.”
Sing munched on a Mars bar and said, “I’ll add a dollar for it, Ash.”
“No,” he said decisively. “Just give it up, will you?”
The two exchanged looks.
Shorter said, “Fine. I guess it’s hard to go to your crush’s house.”
“For the last time, he’s not my crush,” said Ash, irritated.
“Whatever you say,” said Shorter, clearly condescending. “I get it. You’re scared that maybe you’ll see him and think he doesn’t look that bad even if he’s a boy.”
“Yeah, Ash,” agreed Sing. “It’s fine. We accept you even if you’re a pussy.”
“Or if you don’t want one. You know, either way,” said Shorter.
“That’s it,” said Ash, taking off the feathered cap he was wearing. He had gone as Peter Pan this Halloween. “I’ll go over there and prove to you that I don’t like him, and that I’m not scared of old man Okumura either.”
By the time Ash has realized what he’s said, it was already too late to back down.
So here he is now, right outside this boy’s bedroom in a goddamn Peter Pan costume and holding his breath as he waits for the inevitable shouting, but to his surprise it never came.
The boy unlatched the window and pushes it up. Ash continues chewing gum because what else is he supposed to do, and watches as the boy leans forward ever so slightly.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice soft like wind chimes.
“ ‘m sorry, t'was a bet by my stup’d friends en—” he says, words garbled by his full mouth, and he feels like a total loser. “Don’ call your dad. Please.”
The boy tilts his head to the side. “You look funny.”
“Yeah. Tell me ‘bout it,” Ash says helplessly. He spits the gum out into his hand. The boy backs away like he’d just threw up a hairball. “Look, I’m just going to leave. Pretend like this never happened. Deal?”
He only gapes at him.
“Right,” says Ash uncertainly. “I’m just gonna go. Don’t tell your dad, okay?”
Ash has to make sure he doesn't get into trouble again. Griffin doesn't usually ground him, but he's pretty sure two strikes in a span of a week is too much even for him.
“Did you climb over the gate?” the boy asks suddenly.
“I did.”
“Then up this tree?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would you do that?” He sounds genuinely curious.
“It was just a stupid bet,” Ash mutters. He looks at the boy, who has walked closer to the ledge again. “I’m sorry I interrupted your sleep. I promise—wait, are you wearing a dress?”
The boy looks down at his clothes. “It’s a nightshirt.”
“Okay. Cool,” says Ash, though he still squints at him. This boy is different. Like, real different. He has long dark hair framing his face, his eyes are too wide, and he’s white as a sheet. He looks too pretty, so no wonder he’s mistaken him for a girl back then. Maybe Shorter hit the mark after all; the Okumuras are vampires. “Cool. Look—I’m sorry. For everything. Like tonight and last week.”
He just blinks at him.
“I have to go,” says Ash. “Thanks for not shouting.”
He hops down on the branch below.
“Wait,” the boy says.
“What?”
“What’s your name?”
“Uh, Ash,” he replies awkwardly. “What about yours?”
The boy bites his lip before saying quietly, “Eiji.”
“Well, Eiji, it was nice to meet you,” he replies. “But I really need to go. Bye!”
Ash hurries down, and once his feet hit the ground he runs, only sparing a glance over his shoulder once he’s reached the gate. Eiji has already closed his windows and drawn the blinds, and for some reason Ash is a little disappointed that he hasn’t watched him escape.
Eiji sees them again the next week, these three boys, racing their bikes past the house while singing very loudly. He follows them with his eyes, and it might just be Eiji’s imagination, but he is sure Ash waved at him.
He almost waves back.