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If there was ever a day of the week Jun looked forward to, it was Sunday. His only day off from work.
Typically, most mornings would have him scrambling awake at his 6 AM alarm, getting his son up and the both of them presentable, and running out the door a good 15 minutes later than he should be. But Sundays, he didn’t have to do any of that. Jun was free to actually sleep in a bit, as Akira would likely end up sleeping in until much later.
So it was this Sunday, when Jun yawned awake and stretched in his big empty bed, that he decided to be tremendously lazy. Shuffling out from under the covers, he skips going into the bathroom to style his hair entirely, something he did almost every morning first thing. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere today, and the call of caffeine outweighed his desire to be put together.
Making his way to his apartment’s tiny kitchen, he opens a cupboard and takes out a tin of tea leaves. He spoons out some into a tea strainer, putting it in a teapot and filling it with water from the sink before placing it on the stovetop to boil.
The few quiet hours he had when Akira slept were rare, but appreciated. Most days after putting his son to bed he ended up calling it a night soon after, too exhausted from a day of teaching and parenting to even consider staying up. It would be a while before the young boy woke up and took over the tv to watch the Sunday morning runs of Featherman and other cartoons, so Jun settled on the couch with his tea and turned it to some drama show Miyabi had recommended he watch.
Not that he would ever manage to catch more than a few episodes here and there, but the ridiculousness of the plot was pleasant enough background noise as he slowly woke up with the aid of his tea. Soulmates from another timeline? Now that’s just silly.
-
Akira wakes up with sunlight beating down on his face and making his dark hair hot. He groans and rolls out of bed to avoid how gross and warm his bedsheets have become in the late morning sun. Bare feet pad softly out into the hall, and the sound of the tv calls out softly from the living room.
Turning the corner, he expects to see his Papa Jun, looking pretty and giving him a big smile and a good morning. Instead he sees…
A stranger.
There is a man! Sitting on their couch! He sort of looks like Papa and he’s using his teacup but his hair is wrong! And he has two eyes! Akira does not know this man!
With a startled gasp, he runs back into the hall and out of sight. Peering curiously around the corner, Akira spies on the stranger, who himself is looking toward the hall in confusion.
“Aki?” The mystery man calls out in a voice that sounds just like his father’s, “Are you okay?”
The stranger sets his teacup down and gets up with a soft huff. He arches his head to look down the hall. Akira shrinks under his gaze.
“What’s wrong?” He asks softly. “Did you have a bad dream?”
The little boy only stares. For some reason the stranger takes this as an invitation to come over and crouch down in front of him.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” He asks again.
“Where’s Papa?” Akira asks, voice small.
The stranger blinks and then looks confused. “What?”
“My Papa,” Akira presses. “Where did he go?”
“I… don’t understand, hon. I’m right here.”
“You can’t be Papa though!” He insists.
The stranger looks a bit hurt at that, but continues. “And why’s that? Why aren’t I Papa?”
“Because!” Akira points his hand in the man’s face and watches him go cross eyed to look at it. “My Papa doesn’t have two eyeballs!”
…
…
…
The stranger only stares. Akira stares back.
“Akira.”
“... what?” He asks, hand wavering.
The stranger reaches a hand up and brushes his hair out from behind his ear and-
“... Papa?!” Akira nearly shouts, surging forward and hugging his father. Jun has to brace and arm against the wall to not get knocked over. “Papa why do you look so weird?!”
Jun makes a noise that sounds like a wheeze. “I haven’t done my hair yet, Aki. Of course I have two eyes, you silly thing.” He gives Akira a warm squeeze. “Do I really look that different?”
“You look like a weirdo!” Akira repeats with a nod.
“A weirdo? That’s not very nice.”
“M’sorry…” He mumbles into his father’s shirt, the fear finally starting to wear off.
“It’s okay. Did I scare you?” Jun asks, running a hand through his son’s curly bedhead.
“No!” Akira pulls away and puffs out his chest proudly. “I was gonna kick your butt because I thought you were a burglar!”
Jun laughs softly, standing up and putting his hands on his hips. “Oh my, a burglar? What would a burglar steal here?”
His Papa gestures around their less than impressive apartment.
“The microwave.” Akira decides solemnly.
“The microwave's still broken, sweetie.”
“They’d steal it and fix it.”
“That’s,” Jun shrugs. “Okay, they’d steal the microwave to fix it. Would they bring it back?” He had genuinely no clue what his son was talking about at this point but it was easier to roll with it than to demand logic from a 6 year old.
Akira, on the other hand, had seemingly decided the conversation was over when he grabs the hem of Jun’s shirt and asks; “Papa can we make pancakes for breakfast?”
Holding back a laugh, Jun extends a hand to his son and leads him into the kitchen. “That depends if we have enough eggs, but I’ll see what we can do.”
-
After managing to scrounge up the ingredients for a small batch of pancakes, Akira sits on Jun’s lap and plays with his hair to “fix it”. It ends up messier than his initial bedhead and the little boy’s fingers get stuck in tangles that he yanks too harshly, but in the end it was a damn good Sunday.