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Of all the things the kid could possibly be afraid of, it’s thunderstorms.
It’s not what Satoru was expecting from the boy with a disposition as gloomy and stoic as the clouds blanketing the skies overhead. Even now, Megumi stares resolutely ahead, reluctant to admit his fear to himself just as he won’t admit it to anyone else. But there’s no mistaking the tension in his shoulders, the tremble of his lip at each flash, and especially the way his iron grip tightens further around Satoru’s wrist when another rumble of thunder rolls through. If not for Infinity, the kid’s sharp little nails would be digging into his skin.
Satoru twirls the umbrella’s handle idly in his other hand as they wait to cross the street; the grocery bags hanging from the crook of his elbow crackle against each other in the stiff breeze. Once the coast is clear, Megumi sets off first, all but dragging him across the asphalt in his haste to return home. The whole way back, Satoru follows at a trot to keep up.
- - -
It’s the middle of the night when Megumi wakes him up with a tug of his sleeve, long after dinner and a bath and bedtime and the eventual passing of the storm - or, as it would seem, the pausing of the storm; he pushes up his sleep mask to see rain spattering the windows once more. A flicker of lightning illuminates Megumi’s wide eyes as he presses closer to his side. Satoru rubs his face and glances down at his phone screen just before the clock ticks over to the next minute.
03:12.
03:13.
He looks back up at the kid’s face and realizes the situation is a little more dire than he’d first thought. Megumi’s eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, and his cheeks are damp with tear tracks. His whole body is trembling a little. When he sees Satoru looking, he turns away to frown at the floor.
Satoru is well aware that this kind of thing isn’t exactly his area of expertise, but he figures he should try to do something about it anyway. Swinging his legs off the bed, he wraps his arms around Megumi - admittedly a little awkwardly - and picks him up as he gets to his feet. The kid goes stiff for a few seconds, then relaxes slightly. After a moment he wraps his arms around Satoru’s neck, clinging to him like a koala. It feels…nice. Both the soft weight, and the being-needed part.
“Do you want some hot cocoa?”
He thinks it’s a nod that he feels against his shoulder, so he shuffles out into the hall and toward the kitchen. After a fruitless effort to leave Megumi on a chair while he works, he gives up and carries him around the kitchen while he does his best to pull everything together one-handed.
Two small pots, two big mugs, cocoa tablets, some milk - a bit of momentary panic sets in when he can’t find the soy milk for Megumi, but it turns up in the back of the fridge, wedged between the box of eggs and a whole cabbage. Halfway through whisking the tablets into each pot of warming milk, he starts to wonder if Megumi has fallen asleep - but lightning strikes again just a second later, and the boy flinches against his chest when the crack of thunder follows. Hoping to lighten the mood, Satoru hums a little as he whisks the cocoas to bring up a foam. It seems to work somewhat; Megumi turns his head to watch, taking an interest in the process. Once it’s hot, but not too hot, Satoru cuts the burners and pours the contents of the pots into each mug, filling them nearly to the brim.
“Can I put you down, ‘Gumi?” he asks, crouching down to kneel on the tiles. Megumi reluctantly relinquishes his hold on Satoru’s neck and slithers down to stand on the floor. Satoru picks up both mugs, and they make their way to the table over by the kitchen window. Once they’re both seated, he hands Megumi his usual mug, the one painted with a variety of colorful dog faces. The kid takes it from him and buries his face in it almost immediately. Satoru slowly sips his own, delighting in the sweet lightness of the milk foam on his tongue. When Megumi comes up for air, Satoru flashes him what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “Do you like it?”
“It’s spicy,” Megumi says, tilting his head to stare into the cup.
“It’s from the cinnamon. It’s good, right?”
“Yeah.”
Satoru glances out the window. It’s still storming hard, but the thunder and lightning seem to be having slightly less of an effect on the kid than before. He still jumps at every flash and the subsequent bang, but the distraction and the company seem to be comforting to him.
“What do you think, ‘Gumi-chan? Should we do this every time it storms?” Satoru suggests, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Megumi actually smiles at that, and gives him an enthusiastic nod in return. Satoru leans back in his chair and swirls the dregs of his cocoa before downing the remainder of his cup. Thunder crackles again, and he watches Megumi’s eyes flick out the window as he blinks slowly. “It’s not so bad, right? Just some noise. If the volume is the problem, we can get you some earplugs.”
Megumi’s face scrunches a little. “Not really. It’s just…scary. When I’m alone.” His fingers curl tighter around his mug. “But not when you’re here. Can I stay in your room? Please?”
“Sure,” Satoru says, then winces at a recent, sleep-blurred memory of ice-cold feet jammed into his ribcage. “But you have to keep your socks on this time,” he adds, reaching across the table for the empty mug. Megumi hands it over, and Satoru carries their dishes to the sink. He’ll worry about washing them later. For now, it looks like he’ll have enough trouble trying to get Megumi’s teeth brushed before he falls asleep completely. The kid has followed him across the kitchen and is now sleepily gripping the hem of his shirt. He’s not usually this clingy, but Satoru resists the urge to tease him for it.
With an overexaggerated stretch and yawn, Satoru places a hand on Megumi’s shoulder and steers him to the washroom. After they brush their teeth, Satoru takes a moment to wash the tear stains and cocoa smudges from Megumi’s face with a warm, damp cloth, and once they’ve made a short detour for a pair of socks, the two make their way back to his room. Lightning is still flashing through the windows every now and then, but the thunder that follows doesn’t seem to bother the kid as much anymore.
It’s a little past four o’ clock now, and Satoru knows his head will be pounding in the morning, but as he pulls the blankets up over them and Megumi burrows against his side, he can’t help but think that maybe this has been worth the future headache. Conversations between him and Megumi are rare enough; tonight’s seems to have gotten them somewhere a little closer than before.
And at least he’ll be tired enough to sleep through the kid’s snoring.