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Shoot waited for four minutes outside of Knuckle’s door after knocking. The entire four minutes he spent questioning whether he had knocked loudly enough and reassuring himself multiple times that it was a pretty good knock after all and the fact that he thinks maybe it was too quiet was only in his head and it’s a bad habit of his to be constantly second guessing himself. Shoot’s stern commitment to wait and pride in that commitment turned right into anxious chest pain at the tick of minute five.
He pressed his ear against the door and thought he could hear small noises if he strained.
He was already almost thirty and told himself he shouldn’t feel dull shocks to his forehead at the idea of opening the door to check if Knuckle was in. Knuckle had actually made fun of him months earlier for being unable to enter his room before knocking and even went so far as to say that it’s natural for friends to go in and out of each other’s living spaces as needed.
Remembering that made Shoot remember his reason for the sudden visit and subsequent mental torture of possibly having to knock again.
Friends.
Trying not to remember the guilt of their exchange yesterday, Shoot instead recalled what he had said months ago in response to Knuckle’s chiding. He had stated in very clear and soft words, proud of his own calm nature in contrast to Knuckle’s brashness that they were not really friends because by Knuckle’s own logic, Shoot most certainly did not feel comfortable entering his room without knocking. Shoot remembered dully that he was irritated at Knuckle’s resulting sulking and week’s worth of passive aggression afterward.
But remembered aggravation was soon replaced with guilt as he recalled other points of time after that where Knuckle very carefully gave Shoot his space. There were times in training with Morel where they had achieved mutual success, or when they discovered a common opinion or interest and Knuckle had faced Shoot with unbridled warmth in his smile for a brief moment before checking himself and toning it down. Shoot had gotten used to only appreciating Knuckle’s most genuine smiles if they were directed at Morel, or secretly in response to a small animal or personal success. The smiles Knuckle had directed at Shoot would always start off beaming as if by accident, then his eyes would unfocus and look somewhere in the direction of his right cheek. Shoot had already been used to people acting guarded around him, and was content in seeing Knuckle’s happiness from the side as an observer.
All that was different now that they clearly connected during the battle with Chimera Ants.
Yes, that was it – instead of dwelling on his guilt while waiting, Shoot gathered his thoughts and memories around the past month. After all, it made him feel full of gratitude and camaraderie to think of the battle – fighting while Knuckle and Meleoron supported him from the shadows, Gon’s determination inspiring him to fight harder than he’d ever fought before, overcoming limits he thought he’d hit years ago….
Shoot thought again about what he wanted to say. He knew that when it came down to it, he could put together a very logical sentence, but very recently he realized that it was possible that his words in no way whatsoever expressed his intent. Especially when it came to expressing emotions.
The door opened just as Shoot was starting to feel grateful he would have more time to think. A slim brown form immediately darted out of the door followed by a sudden, “NO!” and the door shutting again, some commotion, and muffled cursing. Knuckle came out of the door obviously in mid-groom – a faded yellow towel around his neck, hair up in its normal attitude but slightly askew, entirely shirtless and wearing a pair of blue striped pajama pants.
“Oh! Hey, sorry,” Knuckle began, a little breathless, not meeting Shoot’s eyes. “I didn’t realize you were out here, I mean – I thought I heard a knock but assumed it was someone’s tail against the wall.”
“Oh,” Shoot said lamely. That must be a common occurrence. “Um…”
“Ah…Come in for a sec’. I’m gonna get a shirt on and then I have to go find this guy.” Knuckle motioned Shoot inside. He wasn’t being overly polite, but Shoot could still tell something was off from the angle at which Knuckle’s eyes failed to meet his and the slight shrug of his shoulders when he spoke. He doubted that Knuckle didn’t know he had been waiting there, despite his claim. Shoot knew that constant doubt was a part having an overly analytical mind, and he cordoned it off for consideration later. He had earlier decided that it was more important to say what he wanted to say that evening and not worry about what Knuckle thought.
After half a minute in Knuckle’s green-carpeted hallway (which Shoot knew lead to a larger living room connected to a modest bedroom about half the size) Knuckle had put on a nondescript long-sleeved grey short and motioned for Shoot to take the lead outside again.
Whatever it was that had escaped quickly was no where to be seen from the street corner just outside Knuckle’s apartment. Knuckle clicked his tongue in dull frustration.
“I think he probably went this way.” He started waking across the street, stuffing his hands in his pocket and slumping slightly. Shoot guessed he knew he was in for a long walk looking for this particular animal.
“What went this way?”
“Oh.” Knuckle kept a few steps ahead of Shoot while explaining that he was currently taking care of a dog that was left over after a shelter closed down. Shoot made a face of disbelief.
“Just one?” A shelter usually will have at least 30 wayward animals if it closed, and Knuckle would have no qualms immediately taking in at least 50 animals to his small apartment.
Knuckle cocked his head and slowed walking almost as if to stop, but kept going. He seemed to know it was strange and was looking for a way to explain, then decided against it.
“Yes…” He answered slowly. Shoot tried not to think about how unnatural the conversation was. Instead he took in a breath to calm his nerves and steady his resolve. The sun was setting, but instead of a brilliant flaming sunset, the shadows of the buildings and nearby heights made the evening colors a darkening grey.
He was going to say that he was sorry about what he said at the hospital yesterday. Sorry for telling Knuckle his kindness had gone too far yet again and made him uncomfortable. That wasn’t what he meant. But should he start there? If he started with an apology, Knuckle might think that he wasn’t being genuine when he told him that he really meant to make certain that Knuckle wasn’t just going out of his way to visit him every day for a month out of respect or duty. That now that Shoot was out of the hospital he needed to know that it was okay to want to return the favor. That Shoot had never been happier knowing that he could count on seeing Knuckle every day. He honestly needed to know that Knuckle got the same out of it that he did.
The brown creature appeared briefly about fifty yards in the distance before making a right turn into the next street, seemingly enjoying itself. Knuckle sighed in annoyance. Shoot thought he had to be very down if his heart wasn’t in it enough to use his actual animal tracking skills to pursue this animal. Knuckle’s shoulders looked even more droopy and his hands sunk even more into his pockets now that the conversation had run out and gone silent. Shoot would have been irritated at the Knuckle’s obvious moping if he had not known it was completely genuine.
Shoot’s heart went completely cold. Maybe this was completely the wrong time. He had imagined this conversation happening inside, in Knuckle’s apartment, possibly with them sitting next to each other or even facing each other. He knew that it would be a terrifying thing to talk about and had already braced himself to be in someone else’s home and imagined all the ways he could pretend to need to exit and all the corners that were safe to stare at. Difficult conversation subject aside, he usually had no problem talking to Knuckle if he could see his face. Now that the imagined situation was different he started doubting he could even start. What if he began talking and then something completely interrupted them and Shoot ended up saying the wrong thing? What if he tried to speak up, but his voice was a little too soft and maybe Knuckle pretended not to hear him? Shoot found it immeasurably difficult to bring himself to call out to Knuckle’s back.
Knuckle stopped at the corner to make sure which direction the dog they were slowly chasing went. The stop allowed Shoot to catch one step out of the two by which he was behind. He reached out only slightly, habit dragging his arm down, but heartbeat and intention willing it forward to finally rest on Knuckle’s elbow. Knuckle stopped entirely. His whole body seemed to soften and turn all its heat and intention toward the soft pressure on his elbow, and he very slightly, very subtly leaned into the touch.
“Knuckle…” Shoot was able to whisper.
He tipped his hand slightly, turning his pressure into a light grip, easily escapable, and stepped slightly to the side. Knuckle turned exactly as the tip of Shoot’s hand was barely suggesting, his face downward, eyes looking right into the gutter of the street, but body facing Shoot’s fully. He said nothing as Shoot’s hand slowly reached out further to gently press Knuckle’s back and Shoot carefully aimed his face upward and to the side so as not to collide with Knuckle’s as they tilted into an embrace.
You don’t need to be put me on a pedestal. Treat me like a friend. Be over-affectionate. I want you to show me your happiness and enthusiasm straight on. It’s the best thing about you. We’re more than friends. It makes me happy to see you happy. I want to be with you.
All these thoughts came to Shoot at the same time, none of them in words. He simply stood peacefully with his arm around Knuckle, gently pressing his back. He felt Knuckle’s body grow warmer and softer with each tick of a second, melting into Shoot like he somehow fit there perfectly. Knuckle’s breath was slow and calm against his neck.
Knuckle then tensed up and made to step away. Shoot stepped back to find him still looking away with a very large blush and a slight fluttering smile. It was as if Knuckle’s heart had slowed to stopping while in Shoot’s embrace and then suddenly decided to send all its blood out again to make Knuckle chuckle nervously, look around everywhere, his eyes almost popping out of his head, and swing his arms out to his sides and back.
“OKAY we really have to find this guy so I’m gonna run now but I kinda lost track of him just now,” Knuckle glanced up and tried to make his dark eyebrows into an expression that meant he was blaming Shoot, but it didn’t quite work that way. “Could you maybe help me?”
Shoot looked at him wide-eyed and smiled, his heart suddenly light. Knuckle finally met his eyes, if only to very shyly look away again with a smile too large for his face. Shoot let out one huff of laughter, and, as if that untied a sort of balloon of giddiness, started laughing a chest laugh that felt better than any other laugh he’d had in years. He looked right at Knuckle, grinning with his entire face, and said “You got it!” He added a cheezy thumbs-up before jumping off to survey the situation from the tree line. From the bottom left corner of his eye, he saw Knuckle’s shoulders shaking with happiness for a split second before he sprinted off to corner the dog.