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Soft music flows from the television speakers at a quiet volume. You wander around, shaking fruits from trees while on your way back to your home - well, you call it your home out of reflex, the game belongs to your stepson (should you call him that if you haven’t married his father? Doesn’t matter you suppose).
The bright light does nothing for your aching eyes but works been Hell and as of late and this is the only way you can seem to relax. You never actually touch Megumi’s items, to be clear - at most it’s pulling weeds and squishing bugs, maybe shake some cherries off of a tree or two so you can get him a few extra bells. You think he might’ve noticed, he’s a clever kid and all, but he hasn’t asked you about it; he’s slightly less standoff-ish and does tend to speak to you more (he made a dinner request the other night. It was dino-nuggets, but it was the first time he’d done it).
The door to the house opens, heavy footsteps falling after it closes. Tōji must be home, it’s been what, a week? Thereabouts you suppose - he comes and goes for indeterminate amounts of time (the longest was a month and a half), leaving you and Megumi alone in the house; you don’t mind, you love Tōji and think of his son as your own and it’s not exactly hard keeping the house clean when it’s just you and an unusually tidy seven-year-old.
You don’t know what Tōji does exactly, but you’re willing to leave it alone when you see the dark circles under his eyes.
“Where’s ‘Gumi?” He calls from the kitchen. You hear the fridge door open and close, something glass hitting the counter and something metal falling into the trash.
You glance at him over the back of the couch, watching him take the first sip of his beer, “it’s one-thirty in the morning, Tōji - he’s sleeping, keep your voice down”
He hums, leaving his drink on the counter before heading up the stairs; you hear his feet shuffling around, the light click and creak of a door opening and closing, more shuffling, and the shower being turned on.
You zone it out, focusing instead on talking to Lily since Megumi doesn’t talk to her often - it’d be a shame for her to move away. You make a point of talking to all of Megumi’s villagers, he talks to Lucky and Anchovy mostly, the others not so much. You give Lily some cherries before walking off to sell the others you had collected, you wouldn’t get much for them but Megumi had been mumbling about wanting to pay off his debt.
The shower stops and you listen absentmindedly as Tōji walks around your shared room, probably fishing for clothes that have been folded in his drawer since he left two weeks ago. It’s a little lonely without him around, hopefully, he’ll stay home for a while this time. Your fingers glide over the control stick as you hold down the B button, hoping that you’ll actually get to spend some time with your boyfriend and that Megumi will get to spend some time with his father (the kid stopped asking when his dad would be back… actually, he never asked).
The couch dips beside you and you glance at him - you can see the bumps of wadded gauze under his shirt.
“If ‘Gumi’s sleeping, why’re you playing his game?” He grunts, taking a sip of his beer and leaning back into the couch; you take the opportunity to lean into his side, careful of the amount of pressure you apply.
You sigh, accepting some bells before explaining, “Hiroko - she keeps telling me I’m filling out paperwork and spreadsheets wrong but she won’t tell me why they’re incorrect,” your eyes droop as his arm wraps around you, “and Manami keeps pawning her paperwork on me.”
He swallows a sip of his drink, “still doesn’t explain why you’re playing the squirt’s game, sweetheart.”
“I dunno, it’s relaxing - been playing pretty much every night.” You shrug, realizing that you have more than enough bells to pay off Megumi’s current debt and then some, you make quick work of it, resolving that it would be something nice for him to wake up to tomorrow (he hadn’t done as well on a project you’d both worked on, you figured this would cheer him up a little). You huff out a laugh before adding an afterthought, “almost burnt dinner the other night because I was watching him play - it’s simple, y’know? All I’m responsible for is picking weeds and selling fruit.”
His stomach grumbles as if on cue.
“Want me to fix you something, baby?” You shake down another tree, collecting more cherries to sell to Nook, “I could make you a grilled cheese, heat up some leftovers.”
“What’d you and ‘Gumi have?”
“Ginger chicken meatballs in some soup - I can fry some of them up for you with rice from last night.” You look up at him, noticing that he’s looking intently at the television.
He hums and his stomach growls again.
Pushing yourself off of your boyfriend and then the couch, you shuffle into the kitchen, pulling two containers out of the fridge and setting them beside the stove before pulling out a pan for them. Some water in the pan to break up the rice, you scoop it in, adding the meatballs and setting the top over it. You stare out the window over the sink, not paying any particular mind to much other than stirring the pan’s content every so often, adding in the condiments he likes (hot sauce and soy sauce, that's it).
Once it’s warmed through, you put it in a bowl, taking a bite of it for yourself. You don’t mind cooking for him, really - he comes home exhausted, half the time he crashes on the couch and doesn’t bother eating when he gets in.
Megumi thought he was a burglar one time when he came down for a glass of water at five in the morning. He was oddly calm when he woke you up to say someone was downstairs.
You almost drop the bowl when you come back to the living room - Megumi’s little avatar is running around, swinging a net at a tree. You nearly huff out a laugh when you realize that Tōji Fushiguro (your big, tough boyfriend that comes home littered in gashes and bruises half the time) is playing a children's video game.
“Why’re you playing Megumi’s game?” You ask as you take your seat beside him again, holding the bowl out to him.
“You said it was relaxing - I’d like to relax.”
You hum, taking his face in your hands and kissing his lips, tasting the remnants of beer; you press a fleeting one to the side of his mouth where that little scar is. “You’ve gotta eat, though,”
He puts the controller down, pulling you into his lap and taking the bowl from you. He starts eating, somewhat nuzzling into you. “‘S good,” He says through a mouthful of food (a habit he has that you’ve gotten him to stop doing in front of Megumi so the kid doesn’t pick it up).
“It’s leftovers, babe.”
“Still good,” he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
Light footsteps pad down the stairs, and down the front hall, pausing at the end of the couch. Megumi stands there, rubbing his eye and yawning - he wears his dad's t-shirts to bed even though they hang off him so much.
“Hey buddy, why’re you still up?” You ask softly, getting off of Tōji.
“I can’t sleep.”
Tentatively, you reach over and push his hair back from his eyes, still bleary with sleep, “You were fine a couple hours ago - did you have a nightmare?” He shakes his head and you ask if he’s thirsty or hungry, both eliciting the same response from him. You furrow your brow, pressing the back of your hand to his cheeks and forehead, “you’re not burning up… C’mon bud, you wanna sit for a bit?”
He nods, yawning and crawling in between you and his father.
You think he’s too tired to wonder why his game is open because he only makes grabby hands at the purple remote; Tōji gives it to him and the boy begins playing, leaning back in the small space between you and the aforementioned man. “How long are you staying this time?”
“Dunno,” Tōji says, and you watch him make a conscious decision to swallow before he speaks, “at least two days.”
“Okay,” Megumi leaves it at that, waking through his town and not questioning why there are fewer bells in his inventory.
Tōji holds his bowl to his son and gestures to the last meatball inside.
He nods, a tiny hand reaching for it.
“Be careful, there's sriracha on it,” you say, glancing at the young boy.
He eyes it carefully, sticking his tongue out to taste it before shrugging and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “Can I have some more?” He asks after swallowing.
Tōji smiles, giving his son the rest of the rice, “look at you, eating hot sauce,” ruffling Megumi’s messy black hair.
Megumi finishes his father’s dinner, handing his father back the dish with pudgy cheeks that are still stuffed full of rice, wiping his hands on his shirt before picking up the controller again.
You watch as the man you love grunts out questions to his son, asking what that blue circle he dug up was and listening as Megumi answers his father. Sure, Tōji’s away for weeks at a time, sometimes over a month, and yes you miss him, you know Megumi misses him too even if the kid looks indifferent, or is cold to his father. You realize, with Tōji’s arm around your shoulder as you watch Megumi play his game, ridiculously early in the morning, that even if Tōji leaves, he always comes back and things are never as bad as they seem.
Tōji, who glances at you while Megumi talks to an elephant, watches you scratch his sons back, hoping to lull him back to sleep - it works, evidently, as Megumi passes you the controller and koala-hugs your torso, angling his head so he can still see the tv while resting against your shoulder. Sure, Tōji hasn’t been the best dad; he’s not always around, he can’t always convey that he cares about people. He realizes, staring down at you and his son as you hum a lullaby and press the button to save Megumi’s game, that things are never as bad as they seem.