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Fret usually woke to the all-too-familiar ceiling of his room, staring up at the poster of the Prince he had plastered there years ago and never had the heart to take down. But—this weekend only, never to be seen again, get it while supplies last!—his parents had left on a rare trip to see their family up north, acquiescing to Fret's pleas not to go: that he wouldn't burn down the house, that he would do all of his homework, that he would call three times a day to let them know he remained safe, that he had opted not to go not out of any failure to respect his extended family but because he had too much homework to comfortably take a vacation. Which was true, though he planned to do almost none of it.
This weekend only, never to be seen again, get it while supplies last!
This weekend only, Mr. Minami let him sleep in. This weekend only, Fret woke to the all-too-unfamiliar feeling of something soft and warm and heavy in his arms, snaking around his waist, curled up between and on top of his legs, pushing into his chest. The scent of cedar and worn paper and sweat and summer wood and fragrance-free shampoo melted him into the mattress. Not on his back staring up upwards at Oji's shiny-teeth-and-me beam, but on his right side, his right arm trapped and numb, his vision bleary-blurred in black and green and a pair of glasses on the pillow and, beyond that, a wallscroll of Lord Tomonami in a maid outfit and bunny ears. Flush crept up his collar, heated his cheeks across his nose and up to the tips of his ears. When he leaned slightly back, only blanket caressed his back instead of heat.
Fret glanced over his shoulder. Another wallscroll greeted him, this one of Lord Tomonami brandishing Raijinmaru, his smug face—Fret had seen this particular official art far too many times on EleStra's splash page—blocked by part of a hanging mobile composed of crunched soda cans and shattered ramune bottles.
No Mr. Minami. Right. The man left every morning at some time past three in the morning. Boss had explained it to him once. A joke about π or something. His absence felt so tangible Fret could all but envision the dotted white cartoon outline and plinking sound effect. Which meant two things. Firstly: that Fret had agreed to stay in Boss's room until Mr. Minami's return in the evening, when Mr. Minami could telewarp him out without violating the sanctity of the gender-segregated dorm outside the safety of Boss's four walls. Secondly: that Fret had agreed to stay in Boss's room with just himself and Boss, the latter currently octopus-wrapped around him in her oversized sleepwear.
Octopus-wrapped. Cuttlefish...cuddlefish. Oh yeah. He'd have to tell her that one when she roused.
He glanced down towards her. With her head under the blanket and her face swallowed in the bright orange tee he used as pyjamas, her sea of black hair had frazzled upwards. Loose strands of it tickled his nose. His eyes watered from holding back the sneeze. To distract himself, Fret eased his right hand out from under Boss, only for her to—reflexively?—trap it further between her left arm and her torso. Well. If something had to cut off circulation to his limb and make it fall off, he'd rather that something be Boss.
Fret rested his left hand on her head and stroked gently downwards. One of her knees tucked between his legs; she'd thrown the other over his thighs at some point during the night, presumably in her sleep.
Part of him wanted to mumble his apologies and try to angle his hips back, but he could all but hear her voice in his ear, assuring him that she would never judge him for involuntary reactions, promising him that she would not read anything of intent into the stupid things his body did, admonishing him for even putting the word stupid into her mouth to refer to something like this. That last part, said so clearly in her irritated timbre in his mind's eye, curved his mouth up into a cheek-aching smile. Fret shut his eyes. Soaked in the warmth, the comfort, the smell of home. If he could just memorise this feeling, this cocoon of safety, and replay it over his skin whenever he wanted. Even the pins-and-needles tingling in his right arm. Even the sweat beading on the back of his neck from the overheated blanket.
Even the fact that he kind of needed to piss but couldn't for a moment seriously consider disturbing her.
He couldn't do anything else but breathe, his chest rising and falling against her face, and stroke her hair even where it tangled around his fingers. Listening to her muffled huffing in her sleep, trying to puzzle out her occasional unintelligible mutterings that every so often he could attribute to a victory quote or battle line from EleStra—it always made him want to pat himself on the back and puff his chest out proudly for figuring out the reference—feeling her fingers twitch against the small of his back: he never wanted to forget this sensation. "Hey, Boss?" He whispered so quietly that he could scarcely hear himself. More a motion of the lips than anything audible. "Whatever you're fighting...good luck. To them. I know you're gonna kick their asses."
She responded with a whffing sound and buried her face deeper into his chest.
Fuck, Fret loved her so much. If he could have every morning like this—
When he woke again, he woke to a pair of brown eyes staring right into his, emerging from a pale face surrounded by black. Fret all but jumped back with a kweh!, stopped only by the link by her arms around his waist. His heart slammed into his chest. His mouth had dried out completely in the half-a-second it took for him to process the blanket, the mattress, his best friend in bed beside him gazing his way.
"Sorry, Boss. You kinda scared there." He smiled sheepishly.
Boss blinked. When she squinted like that, she looked so much less herself without her glasses on, though he could barely tell with how close she'd pushed her face up against his to see him properly. Their noses touched. "Most unintentionally. Well met, Sir Tosai." Her right palm warmed his back, her left arm wriggling beneath him. This close, he could make out the uneven colouration of her irises, the little bands and dips of lighter and darker colours streaked across the disc. The hues drew him in. It made him wonder what she saw in his own eyes, now, when he wasn't wearing his usual blue contacts in their immaculate robin's-egg shade. Not like anyone else had seen him without his contacts for years. Not even his parents.
"W-well met." He cleared his throat. "Hi."
"We have the whole day unfolding before us, so I shall requisition breakfast for both of us from the dining hall—fear not, for they will have no suspicions about me eloping with two persons' weight in food—and then we may plot out a strategy for a victorious day together." She scrunched her nose against his as she spoke. "Have you anything specific in mind? I can produce the menu."
"You." If Fret could swallow his tongue and every word he had ever uttered he would have. "I mean, Boss, if you're really hungry, I know better than to get between you and breakfast. But, uh, if you wouldn't mind, could we..."
She raised her eyebrows. "Sir Tosai?"
"...just cuddle for a bit? Just for a few minutes. I'm not exactly used to waking up with anyone else, and I just...just wanted savour it a little." He rubbed the back of his head. "If that sounds dumb you've got full freedom to ignore me."
Boss sighed. Closing her eyes—he missed the little squint already—she tucked her face into his jaw. "Insufferably alike as mirror images, you and Sho."
"Hey, great minds think alike." He lowered his hand from his head to hers and poked at her cheek. "If Mr. Minami likes cuddling with you too, maybe it's just 'cause we're both galaxy brain geniuses."
"Very well. For a few minutes only, lest the decibels of my stomach's growling crumble the principal post of this campus." Boss shifted her head back; his face went uneasily cold. "Permit me a moment, and then I shall join you." She rolled out from under the blanket onto the floor; Fret curled the sheets more tightly around himself to trap the warmth she had abandoned. He watched her perform some sort of elaborate stretching ritual as she rose to her soles. Cracking her neck, her shoulders, her back, her wrists, each finger individually—he'd have to try that next time his hands cramped up from playing EleStra too long in bed, though that had become less of a problem since Mr. Minami and Boss had all but vanquished his insomnia—she ended with a full-body backwards stretch and a light mmmmm that made him comfy just listening to it.
Then she vanished into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Fret could hear the water running, the sounds of her electric toothbrush whirring, the menu music of EleStra that transitioned into the soundtrack of the daily materials grinding dungeon. He'd packed his own brush, but his teeth could wait until Boss departed to fetch breakfast. His dailies, on the other hand, couldn't.
Fishing out from phone from under the pillow, Fret checked his messages first—Shokie had sent some memes to the rindude don't look group chat that absolutely included Rindo; Beat had texted the Wicked Twisters some blurry photos of the skatepark; Rhyme had privately messaged him to continue the riveting conversation they'd had about her experiences modifying MONOCROW-brand clothing; Rindo had complained about the memes Shokie had sent to rindude don't look group chat; and now Fret reminded Rindo to check the group chat's name—and then set his team to autogrind. Boss predictably sat in a far comfortable lead at the top of their guild's leaderboard for contributions to the current event—a beach-themed oyster collect-a-thon that reminded him of his upcoming end-of-semester exams and his summer internship at garagara—but he had made third thus far.
He and the guild's second-highest contributor, someone named pastel_luvr02, had gone neck and neck in the past few events. But this time Fret would surely smack his mysterious competitor out of second place.
Fret set his volume just high enough to drown out any noises coming from the bathroom. Then he snuggled back into the blankets to wait. After a few moments Boss opened the door again, her hair done up with green ribbons, a blush extending across her face, her eyes wide. Fret wriggled out of bed himself as she slipped under the sheets. She tilted her head at him.
"Just gotta, y'know, use the bathroom." And give her a few moments to recover. He appreciated her discretion, and he'd follow suit. Besides, he really did need to piss.
The bland white bottles of fragrance-free shampoo and conditioner stacked neatly on the sink counter beside her electric charger, a plastic hourglass, and a laminated and waterproofed poster of Lord Tomonami shopped with a violet toothbrush in place of his usual blade. It made him laugh to see the edited image, every time. And it made his heart squeeze to see his toothbrush in the plastic cup beside the charger. That, and the lingering scent of the shampoo. She used the hair products infrequently, she had told him, preferring to wash her hair with water most of the time to avoid getting stuck in a situation of lathered-up hair and no recourse to wash it off. Apparently the sensation of water splashing over her skin set her off, sometimes. Fret had started checking the weather himself whenever inviting her on an outing, packing an umbrella with him whenever the chance of rain went above twenty percent. Just like he packed extra mittens whenever they went for soft serve or boba, given her intolerance to cold on her palms.
He washed his hands when he'd finished relieving himself and studied his reflection in the mirror. No, he definitely preferred how his eyes looked with contacts, how his ears looked with the earrings in.
But just around Boss, sometimes, he could go without.
Shouldering the door open, Fret paused in the doorway. Boss peered at him from beneath the blanket, having somehow completely burrito'd herself in the sheets while he washed up. She looked positively smug. As if she had discovered the secrets of the universe in her strategy for self-cocooning. Fret brought his hand involuntarily up to his mouth and just stared at her for a moment. At her face, with her features accordion'd-up to squint in his direction.
"Sir Tosai?"
Fret jumped to attention. Closing the bathroom door behind him—"Yeah, Boss, I remembered this time! Check me out! Door: 0; Fret: 1!"—he unfurled the right edge of the blanket and tucked himself in facing the wall. She had replaced the sheet with a heavier one at some point in the last few months, apparently on Mr. Minami's request. It had freaked Fret out the first time he'd gotten under it, made him feel halfway to suffocation, but he'd gotten used to it: the oddly soothing heaviness. Fret took a breath, then rolled around under the comfort of the weighted sheet towards Boss.
"Are you well, Sir Tosai? 'Comfy'?"
"Could never be uncomfy around you, Boss." He inched forward under the blanket, gingerly extending his hand towards her. "S'okay if I touch you?" Boss nodded. Just a brush of his palm on her hip. "You good if we hug?"
Boss's fingers slid over the back of his hand, warm and soft. "Thank you kindly for inquiring, Sir Tosai. I have no aversion to touch at this moment; you need not ask unless I specify otherwise."
"Right, I know. Just wanna check in every time. I don't ever wanna make you uncomfy." He pulled her towards him, and she scooted forward. Then she was—everywhere, all at once, almost overwhelming, her hair in his face, her gaze so intense up close as though she could cleave through his brain and pick apart the little bits of fluff from the mush just by looking at him, her chest and abdomen warm on his, her legs and arms tangled up all around him. Cuddlefish. Overwhelming, but not bad, not bad in any way, just here, with him, in the best way, in the way that he never wanted to lose, in the way that he didn't want to end when he finished high school, when she finished college, when their lives inevitably drifted apart like he and Rindo had after the Game finished and he'd focused on Shokie and—
"Sir Tosai?" Fret shook his head; his nose bumped against hers and she sneezed, right into his face. "Heeeuuurgh! My sincerest apologies! I never intended to spread my pathogens to you!"
He laughed and rubbed his nose off on the pillow. "Don't worry, Boss. I'll treasure your cooties, too."
"A yen for your thoughts, Sir Tosai?"
His laughter faded. His hand glided past her hip to her back, up towards her shoulder blades. "Gee, this early in the morning? Can't a guy hug his best friend for five minutes without it turning into a therapy session?" Her gaze held steady. "No, I...I'm not hiding anything from you, Boss. More that I didn't want to impose on you. I mean, you just woke up, and here my galaxy brain goes makin' messes for both of us."
She frowned, and only the hand holding his kept him from gripping his chest over his heart. "'Tis not a mess to care for your feelings, even beneath the rosy-fingered dawn."
"Yeah, but...you deserve a break, too." Fret embraced her more closely. He kicked the bottom of the blanket up just enough to fold it under his feet. "I came here as Fret the friend, not Fret the mental patient."
"You are no such thing, Sir Tosai, and if you were, you would find good company with my younger self."
He cringed at himself. "I didn't mean it like that."
"I meant nothing but a sense of camaraderie." She exhaled; the breath rolled warmly over his cheek and he couldn't help his grin. "Regardless, you need not answer the question."
"I'm not putting on a façade or anything, I swear." Fret hesitated. "Wait...by not telling you, am I hurting you worse? 'Cause of my bad vibes on your empathy antenna?"
"I would phrase it differently, yet you have grasped the gist. But 'tis hardly out of self-preservation that I care so deeply for you, Sir Tosai. 'Tis out of your importance in my life."
Fret blurted it out, compulsively as he did while texting: "I love you, Boss." She responded with something almost akin to a smirk, her eyes squinching up with her self-satisfied sneer, but he recognised it as the caring beam she meant. "Look, I...I was just thinking about how much I wanted to capture this moment. Like a photograph. Put it all snug in my pocket to take it out and look at again later if things get cold in the winter. And then I was thinking so hard about how much I didn't want to ruin it that I went and ruined it." His turn to sigh. "Guess I should take a leaf outta Beat's book and stop thinking so much. Don't think; feel so good."
The smirk gave way to a deeper grimace. "I happen to enjoy your thoughts, but we need not speak of them now, nor ever. Loosening the straps of the masque upon your face does not obligate you to share all your truths with me, or anyone else."
"But I want you to. I want to share it. I was just going to—"
"What barrier, then, have you?"
"Okay, okay, you're right. If I'm gonna share it anyway, might as well suck it up and spit it out. I'm making it worse by dragging it out, aren't I?" She nodded miserably, her brow clonking against his, and he laughed as he rubbed his smarting forehead. She did the same. Just two fools nursing their bonked brows. "Yep, I deserved that. Anyway, s'what I was beginning to explain. I wanted to capture this moment, and I was thinking about how busy Rindude's been with all his internships and clubs and stuff since he got back from the Game. I'm really proud of him for being so decisive and all that good stuff. And I'm really happy that he's been so happy with Shokie. And...I wouldn't trade your friendship for the world, Boss; don't get me wrong. You're not some kinda replacement Rindude."
Boss shrugged. "I could not substitute for Sir Rindo no matter how many nutkins I could offer you."
"I'd take your nutkins anyway. They'd probably have, like, ɪɴᴛ stats of over nine thousand or something. Actually I don't know how the stats in FanGO work but they've probably got ɪɴᴛ, right?"
Her eyes narrowed; she muttered darkly: "Certainly more ɪɴᴛ than their developers, who rely on cheap advertising trickery to keep EleStra from its rightful throne at the top of the download charts..."
"Y-yeah. And speaking of FanGO versus EleStra, I became your friend way before Rindude got all busy. I kinda wonder if he got busy in part because I was spending more time with you, actually. I mean up until Mr. Minami was all, 'The boys are back!' and you and him started hanging out all the time and everything."
Fret swallowed. He gripped onto her hip a little more tightly.
"And I know that we're comrades-in-arms and stuff, and we still spend tons of time together, and you're even giving up having Mr. Minami to yourself at night—no I'm not gonna say anything 'illegal or unethical'; don't look at me like that!—so you can babysit my stupid insomnia problems, and I still can't follow you and Mr. Minami's arguments when you guys started quoting studies and mathemagic at each other, and I just gotta wonder when you're going to get fed up with me. And I'm not asking for a guarantee or anything here! I don't want you to stay out of a promise. There's just a part of me that keeps asking. I mean, because I thought that I was...I don't know. I thought that you wanted me there with you 'cause I really got you, really accepted you to your core, but then Mr. Minami..."
It made his heart strike harder against his chest, so hard that she could surely sense it hammering on hers, as though trying to burrow through his ribcage and flee into her pyjamas instead.
"...I love the guy, you know? It's funny, for a dude with teeth so sharp he could probably bite through bone and enough, uh, whatever the noun of condescending is to make math teachers cry, he's really good at making you feel safe when he wants to. Kinda like, he'll let me accidentally walk off a cliff but he'll catch me right before I really go splat. He'll be making fun of me the whole way and calling me a tuse or whatever—"
"Obtuse, Sir Tosai."
"—yeah, that, and I'll go all, thanks for adding me into your matrix Mr. Minami! And he'll laugh and it'll be fine. But, I guess, he seems to get you even better than I do, sometimes, and he's him, and I just wonder if you're still tolerating me because he doesn't play EleStra and—"
Funny, really, how the corners of his vision did that when he got like this, the little flickers of black and red seeping in from around the corners with the drum of his heartbeat right against his temples, hard enough he could sense it against the pillow on the right side of his brow.
"—wait, wait, I'm not saying you're the kind of person who would be friends with me just 'cause I play EleStra, and you deserve as many people getting you as you can, and I want to be friends with you and Mr. Minami, but I just keep waiting for that other shoe to drop, because you and Mr. Minami give me so much attention and affection when I'm here and I keep wondering where you guys got hit on the head that you keep thinking I'm some cool interesting guy who should get that kind of attention and affection in the first place when you two could be pouring all that out to each other and don't get me wrong I don't want it to end I just can't believe it won't and—"
"And would you accept an answer of 'I shan't leave in the foreseeable future, to the best of my predictive capacity', Sir Tosai?"
Boss's features had contorted in a slurry of emotions over the course of his discussion, but now they had smoothed over into a sincere smile that stuffed his heart back into his chest and cradled it there. He tried to swallow again past the constriction in his throat.
"'Tis not for any playing of EleStra or any calculated comparative level of 'getting' me."
If he winced any harder he'd probably pop his eyes out. Maybe he could slap his forehead into a concussion and forget that he ever opened his mouth.
"I am Sho's congruent function because I wish to be and choose to be, and I am your best friend because I wish to be and choose to be. And Sho, too, enjoys having his 'golden zeptogram' around." He could feel Boss's fingers walking gently along his spine: safe, and soothing, and just right. "I spend time with you because you make me happy, Sir Tosai. I shall support you if you opt to attend a college far from Shibuya, even if too far for Sho and I to visit, and I shall eagerly text you daily until we may reunite."
"Hey, Boss, that's not gonna happen. How am I supposed to 'attend college' if I don't have my nightlight with me? Think not being able to sleep's gonna get me full marks?" Fret's smile petered out. "Oof, that makes me sound dependent on you. Not very poggers at all." He flinched. "Okay, not making that joke again. Please don't kill me."
"I have no need to harm you when you have done an excellent job of doing such to yourself at this moment."
"'Sides..." Deep breaths, Fret. Deep breaths. "...I dunno if I'm gonna go to college at all. At least not right away."
She inclined her head. Fret could tell that if she wore her lenses they would have flashed in the light above. Instead the tilt merely reflected the ceiling lamp in her pupils. "And if you remain in Shibuya, 'pon campus or otherwise, I anticipate welcoming you to my bed each and every night so long as you wish to be here. Because—"
He'd barely opened his mouth to ask. She read him not like an open book but like an EleStra newslog announcement.
"—your presence brings me great joy, Sir Tosai. Whether we discuss feelings, or sincerity, or EleStra, or the newest shenanigans in the Wicked Twisters' public forum, or the latest seasons in fashion you have witnessed, or whatever else we peruse. Even when we merely sit in silence. Seated at a booth in Crowned Curry or standing together at a cab in TAITO, wandering the streets of Shibuya or enjoying a few matches in Sir Beat's apartment, discoursing about the latest film that Sir Rindo suggested we watch together or listening to Lady Shoka's latest tales of SPICY CURRY DON's bizarre clientele, hearing Lady Rhyme select the next karaoke hit or assisting Lady Yashiro in teaching her Oji-serving compatriots the finer points of EleStra: in whatever situation we find ourselves, Sir Tosai, you grant me smiles and tears beyond any sentiment that I have felt with another."
His brow knitted together. "And tears?"
Her smile grew more tender. He'd die. They'd put it in the obituary: spontaneously combusted. "'Tis an expression of all that you do. The fair and the foul alike. In sunshine and in rain, by hail or by hearth...never have I longed to remain by the side of a dweller in a light as I have with you. 'Tis true that, in my inability to intuite Sho's emotions, his presence inflicts less violence upon me."
She never minced words. He'd asked her, before, why she had dropped to calling Mr. Minami by his given name instead of Lord Minamimoto, why she still placed the honorific in front of Fret's own. Because, Boss had answered honestly, the honorific served to create an appropriate distance with which to bolster her defenses against mental damage. But Mr. Minami's inscrutability kept her safe. Every time she said that, every time she said that Fret's presence pained her, it made him want to smash himself out the poster-covered window and look for the nearest railroad track to think about lying down on for two seconds before the guilt of even mentally making a joke about killing himself dragged his hand across his face. But Boss caught his wrist and lifted her palm from his cheek, her thumb warm on the inlet of his wrist.
Boss maintained her gaze riveted upon his, and he couldn't tear his away even if he wanted to.
Not that he wanted to.
"Yet, Sir Tosai, I should like to remain at your side. No matter the inevitable difficulties of miscommunication, and no matter the harm I might bear for how your emotions bleed into mine, I find the happiness you give me more precious than even the rarest dungeon drop."
His eyes widened. "Even rarer than darksteel? Even rarer than shadowsteel? Don't tell me...even rarer than rubell ore?"
"Even rarer than morgan ore," she affirmed, grinning more widely at each reference that he made, "though perhaps not quite as rare as taaffe ore."
The corners of his vision blurred over again, this time not in flickers of shadows, but in the wetness of tears. "Aww, Boss."
"'Twas merely a jape."
"N'awwww, Boss." Fret sniffled. "Is it really enough?"
Her brow furrowed. "Whatever do you refer to?"
"Happiness. Is happiness really enough of a reason? Even if I'm too dumb to get all the smart things you two talk about and..." He trailed off.
"Hrrrk. Sir Tosai. Is there anything that could be more 'enough' than happiness? The joy, contentment, and asylum I feel with you has much greater weight than any debate of what you call 'smart things'."
No matter how many times he swallowed the weight in his throat kept crushing his windpipe. "I...I get it. You're right. You're always right."
"N-not always, per se..."
"Then a lot of the time! I don't have you on a pedestal or anything, Boss. I know you got your own problems. And I know I keep bringing this problem up. All the way back from that Tin Pin tourney. I keep trying to let it go, but...I know, I know, progress isn't a straight line. It's a loosey-goosey bumpy curve of setbacks and, uh, what's the word, advances. I get it." She nodded into the pillow; this time she drew her head back slightly first, and he laughed, reaching forward to softly bump his forehead against hers. "Man, I've been talking so much about myself. It really has just been therapy hour for me, I guess. Is there anything that I can do for you, Boss? Maybe let you go so you can go get breakfast? S'been way more than a few minutes."
"And I shall certainly depart to acquire our fast-breaking repast ere the ending of the morning shift, for fear that we shall find ourselves starving until noon." Letting go of his hand, Boss touched her palm to his cheek.
Without her glove obscuring the skin, he could make out all the more clearly the callouses on her fingertips from her many, many efforts at creating her own merchandise despite her problems with coordination, the scars and scrapes and burns along the creases of her palms from her clumsy mishaps, the left-over cuts from meltdowns that left her clawing her hands against asphalt or brick. Her fingers fidgeted occasionally against his face, little twitches of involuntary muscle spasms, the same ones that made her motor control go all wonky and wobbly in the first place. The lump in his throat that had gone in and out all morning knotted up right against his windpipe. Not with any kind of pity. Just with the desire to hold her hand and never ever ever stop.
"However, before I do, I wish to say something, and then to ask you something. Two things, as it were. The saying: I shall happily reassure you every time, Sir Tosai. On the same topic, again and again, until the matter becomes clear in your mind. The strongest sword requires steel folded not once, but hundreds if not thousands of times."
"I thought you said that they only had to do that 'cause of the impurities in the metal or something..." No matter how he wracked his brain, his mind only coughed up some cobwebs, peppermints, and random facts about the operating history of Top o' Topo's fashion lines. "Oh, I guess I'm like, low quality material then?"
"Indeed. So am I, in that regard. All the more impressive that we make something of ourselves—for the zeptograms we are."
That made him crack a smile.
"Now, as for the asking." She drew a long line across his cheek. The number one. "If you should choose not to attend college, Sir Tosai, where lie your plans?"
"I'unno. My 'rents aren't gonna be happy if I do that. I don't think they'd kick me out or something, but it's gonna be...uncomfortable. But I really don't think that I'll do good there." Fret dropped his hand to the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair. The sensation seemed off on him without the coarse-crisping product he would've usually worked in by this time of morning. "Not the way I am now."
"Even with the 'way you are now', there exist possibilities and paths. I myself would have figuratively perished without the safety net of the disability accommodations form. Had I attended college even a decade ago, I would have struggled significantly more than I do now." He saw her slight hesitation in the quiver of her lower lip. But Boss always spoke genuinely. "From what I gather, your parents do not have nearly the resistance that Father did for you utilising such forms."
Fret shook his head. "Yeah, I don't think I'd have the problem you did. Which I'm really sorry you went through that and everything. I mean it. But, I don't think that the accommodations stuff is gonna be enough for me. You need stuff like extra time on tests and taking 'em in a different room so you can make the noises you need to and all that, and it's great that that works out for you! But me? I can't even pay attention in class for two minutes without zoning out and swiping through HOG FANG's latest model pics or F Everything or the newslog. Everyone I know's going to college though. Except Shokie, but I don't have the excuse of having been dead for four years."
He recoiled at his own words. He'd taste less mud in his mouth if he swallowed an entire plate of grilled gator. Sorry, Boss.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, that came out way more like a tool than I meant it. I'm happy for Shokie and how cool the Don's been! It's just that my parents don't get it. They're never gonna get it. So, I..." He shrugged. "I'unno."
"I see. I comprehended your meaning on Lady Shoka. Insensitive as your choice in phrasing—" Not like he could disagree. "—in intent, you spoke from the heart. Hmm...I shall broach a topic: I would like for you to take this at complete face value, to not inquire about the logistics as of yet but closer to its relevance, to sincerely believe me that I shall mean this now and I shall mean this when it becomes relevant for I have thought about it for some time, and most importantly to not give me an answer right now, but rather to wait until the fated hour, when the fullness of the thought becomes sufficiently ripe to pluck."
Fret stared at her. "That number of disclaimers would freak me out if it was anything but you."
"'Tis said that the number of disclaimers correlates with the, hm, 'galaxy brain' nature of the plan." She wriggled her other hand out from under her just to bonk herself between the eyes with her middle finger. It took him a second to realise that she'd been meaning to push her glasses up only to have forgotten that she did not wear them to bed. "You saw nothing."
The sound that exited his throat—something like a giggle. Could he do that? Could guys giggle? Whatever. Around Boss he could do whatever he wanted. He could have himself a giggle. "Just my best friend. Didn't see a shred more than that. I promise."
She eyed him suspiciously.
"I promise!"
Boss snickered, and then he laughed, and then they were laughing at each other, and she was hugging him tightly and he was hugging her even more tightly. If he could just have every morning like this. Not out of dependence. In happiness.
"Hey, Boss?" He stroked the back of her hair; she cradled his cheek with that unevenly rough-patched palm. The heat prickling at the corners of his eyes wouldn't leave. "Even if we do end up drifting apart at some point, I won't regret a single second with you. You've taught me so much. About myself. About the world. Even if you decide that you're never gonna talk to me again for some reason, or we just stop talking naturally, I'm...grateful for everything." Her mouth thinned into a line. "Boss? Did I say something wrong?"
"On a factual basis: with regular frequency, yes." He groaned. "Yet: no. Not in this instance."
When Fret exhaled in relief, he felt like he exhaled every bone in his body, all of his muscles melting into a Fret-shaped puddle of goop in her arms. "Okay. I'm good. What'd you want to ask?"
"The proposal...is that, after this academic year completes, they shall endeavour to move me into a new double, with no guarantee that my new roommate shall depart as did my old. To combat this, as I would much rather leave myself open to you and Sho—" Fret parted his lips to say meeeee? but then pressed them closed again. Listened. "—and so I have applied to qualify for off-campus housing." The fondness of her smile could one-hit knockout any EleStra unit. 100% critical hit rate. "Do you see the implications therein, Sir Tosai?"
"Uh..." For want of scratching his cheek, he patted her head instead. "I think I need the StraFAQs walkthrough for this one, Boss."
"If you need somewhere to stay, perhaps on a permanent basis, when your high school term ends...you shall always have a place at my hearth and in my heart."
Fret opened his mouth. Closed it again. Opened it. What would Mr. Minami have said at a time like this. Probably something like. Yeah he would add himself to this equation because. The plane of the graph hit just right. And the numbers all got in a line. Yeah like the number line. Wasn't that what the number line was? He'd heard the word before. Definitely that. Er, quat error demonstrated-um. Yeah.
Yeah!
Yeah.
He had no clue what to say.
Yeah.
"Ah, a metaphorical hearth, not a literal one, for 'twould suit me neither to procure a fire hazard of that nature nor to leave it unused. Nevertheless, please, answer me not at this juncture, as I said. I need yet to prepare the logistics and equip myself to ensure a great victory." The weight of the blanket, the warmth of her embrace, the faint coordination-broken fidgets and spasms of her fingers on his cheek. Too much. Too much, but he didn't want to be anywhere else, not anywhere else but here. "I do mean every word with utmost sincerity, Sir Tosai, and I will hold firm even if Sho should depart sooner than the term's end. But 'twould be an honour to welcome you to our shared abode. By our, I include you as well."
He discovered his tongue whirling around somewhere in the back of his throat and set the muscle to work actually saying stuff. "Like. You'd want me. Me, Furesawa Fret, to live with you. Just like that. No strings attached."
"Not whatsoever. I would not ask you for any manner of rent either. Mother and I shall take care of that. If you wished to attempt gainful employment, I would welcome it for your own sake, yet there shan't exist any requirements for your presence. Merely that you bring yourself. Hmmm...I suppose that I should also require you to remember your dailies." She poked the curve of his cheek. "But I shan't do that, for a member of Lord Tomonami's covenant should only do so in the truest faith for His Lordship, and not for any obligation."
"I-I'd do that myself!" Fret burst out. "I wouldn't let him or you down! Or me! I'm invested, Boss! You can't get rid of me as a comrade-in-arms that easily! Not unless y-you ask me to leave, then I will!"
Boss pressed her palm down onto his cheek with sufficient force that it stung like half a slap. "Hwaawaawaaarrgh! N-never would I turn away such a faithful m-member of his flock!"
"Then don't even joke about that!"
"J-jests set aside—" She smoothed her hand out again, and he leaned his cheek into the touch. "—I have but one genuine requirement."
If his eyes embiggened any further they'd split his head open and then all that mushy-gushy Boss had turned his brain into would end up on her pillow and he couldn't have that. "...what is it?"
"That you want to and choose to be there. Nothing more."
The bases of his lungs burned. Like they were filling up with something awful and wet and sick. Or maybe he was just breathing in the future's shape. Sharp enough to cut him open, inside-out, and sharp enough to feel, for the first time in a long, long time. And Boss brushed along his cheek, pleasantly warm, so simultaneously tender and twitchy that the tears twinging the corners of his eyes finally ran, dampening his cheeks down the right side of his face. "Sorry, sorry, I'm not...I'm not trying to give you psychic damage or anything."
"Such tears do nothing harmful, Sir Tosai. They are super effective only in pleasing me at your happiness."
He sniffed back the ache in his throat. "Yeah, I...I think that's what this is, Boss. Happiness. I don't...I don't know how to reply right now. I feel like you just hit me with a truck and I'm roadkill splattered across the Scramble. But like. The good kind of roadkill splattered across the Scramble. Sorry, I just..I just..."
She touched her nose to his. "Take all the time that you need."
The little bump of the cool tip of her nose broke whatever wetness had consolidated in his lungs, and suddenly he was crying, ugly moist gasps that tore up his innards and streaked up the insides of his throat and burned his sinuses out with the acridity, and as much as every fibre of his body screamed for him to cling to her and hold her close to his chest and tremble against her until it subsided he forced himself to roll over and push his palms onto his eyes and let the heaves wrack through him without hurting her into averting her touch or melting down or anything. He buried his face into the pillow to muffle the noises. His arms turned into iron bars on his abdomen, willing the disbelief and the forlorn hope and the stupidity to fade so he could just trust her.
After a moment something warm pressed up against his back. A limb slipped in under his body. Her arms encircled him, fingers linking at his chest, holding him close. He tried to say it, tried to say that she didn't need to do a thing, but she spoke first, her breath tickling the shell of his ear. "I am well, Sir Tosai, in part because you did turn away and give me time to adjust. But I am ready now, and I will withdraw should needs must." He nodded wretchedly. Wretchedly...Boss would use that word. That brought a squiggle of a smile to his lips. "Would you like to embrace me?"
Fret rolled back, slowly, without disturbing the protective circle of her hug, and embraced her back, this time scooting downwards so that he could press his face into her chest, his head tucked in under her chin. Always, no matter how many centimetres shorter than him she stood, he felt as if he were looking up at her. Now he curled up around her.
Her shirt smelled like home. Fragrance-free shampoo, and long-dried fabric paint, and worn paper, and ironed fabric, and Boss.
She patted his head awkwardly with her chin, and she told him of her event analysis for the newest banner drops with the oyster collection summer event, and she let him hook his legs around her just to keep her closer for a second, and she advised him on how to best spend his AP so that he would have the greatest probability of beating pastel_luvr02 in the leaderboards, and she kept her palms on his back right along the line of his spine where the stability of her shaky fidgety hands grounded him down further into this moment and this present than all the stone-firm hands that had tried before, and she quoted, she quoted from games and shows and forum posts, and she picked every single quote for what it meant to her, and he listened, he listened, he'd always listen.
"Anywhere can be paradise as long as you have the will to live. After all, you are alive, so you will always have the chance to be happy. As long as the Sun, the Moon, and the Earth exist, everything will be all right."
He couldn't believe her. Not right now. With his head, yeah, he could, and he did, but not with his heart, not with his hands.
But he would.
Maybe. Someday.
He would.
Under the lull of her voice, the rise and fall of her passions and complaints, the sobs ebbed to dry hacks and then to quiet breaths. Yeah. He'd have to take his time. He'd have to tell himself every single day for the rest of the term, this semester and the next and the next all the way to his entrance exams and beyond, that she really did want him there, not for sleepless nights stayed up trying to talk her into self-worth, not for begging her to stay with him, not for—
Just because she wanted him there. Just because she chose for him to be there. Just because.
He stayed like that for a long, long time.
And then her stomach growled, and he could hear her sheepish smile in the shape of her breaths, and he loved her; he really, really did.
Pulling away ever so slightly from her, Fret rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Thank you." His voice came out croaked and crumpled, but his. Despite everything else, his voice was still his. "I'm...I'm good? I'm good. Yeah. I'm good. Boss, I. I love you so much." She met his gaze. "You know with all these tears and stuff, I-I bet I'm looking at you with the same blurriness th-that you're looking at me."
She chuckled. "'Twould think my vision remains worse, but then again, 'tis because I look to the future. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, is it not?"
"Yeah, you're right...I guess I...the future. Yeah. I. Hey, Boss? W...what's the second thing you wanted to ask?"
Two touches down his cheek. "If and only if you're ready...whatever would you prefer for breakfast?"
Fret drew in a trembled breath.
He waited for his body to settle down his bones into the mattress, into her arms, into the life she had offered. Boss was right on this, too. He had all the time in the world. He had all the time in the world because she gave it to him, and he, he'd trust that much. And the rest, too. In time.
"Okay. Okay. Whew. Let's check out that menu. We can share."
