Chapter Text
Doppo wakes up to rays of light easing through the bedroom window, painting streaks of muted yellow on the ceiling. His first conscious intake of breath throws him straight to a forest. Cedarwood mixed with hints of lavender wafts in the air. It could be nowhere else apart from Jakurai’s bedroom. Had it been his own, in his landfill of cans, clothes, and miseries, his nose would have detached from his face.
But his big spoon is nowhere to be found.
As if he’s single again.
He lurches forward from the very thought alone, muffling his screams on a pillow. Ungrateful. Piece. Of. Shit.
The doctor, his doctor, is a pitless well and everflowing fountain of blessings in the hellhole he lives in, and Doppo, of all people, complains? Fuck. He plops on his back and smothers his face with a pillow, chasing the sleep away with a scream. Drowsiness failed to plague him today after the doctor brought him home last night, in the middle of the week, to help with his sleep. Jakurai loaded the diffuser with essential oils as anxiolytic and sleep inducer for the salaryman. He tucked Doppo to sleep, held him in his arms, but Doppo still has the balls to be discontented and lonely? As if he hasn’t cancelled on Jakurai on numerous occasions because of work? How about the instances when he made the doctor wait too long due to overtime? As if the ramblings of his woes do not swallow majority of their time when together?
He screams into the pillow once more.
Doppo drags himself out of the blanket, rambling that a greedy leech like himself should at least make the bed.
Like a dog in the streets, he is drawn to the doctor’s side of the bed, yearning for crumbs, for remnants of his partner’s presence. He palms Jakurai’s side of the mattress, feeling the sheets, trying to extract his partner’s warmth that seeped into it. His gaze flickers to the unmade side of the bed.
Odd. The doctor never leaves the space he has occupied unattended. The used clothes lay like newly peeled snake’s skin. The salaryman lifts the shirt and pants idling on the bed. There’s resistance.
“What on earth is-”
He finds a child inside the doctor’s shirt, devoid of the ills of life, heedless to the ticking of time, excluded from the stipulations of society. The child’s cheeks melt on the pillow. His stubby little thumb close to his mouth. An angel.
Doppo is absorbed into the time when his younger brother used to sleep in their mother’s arms. He remembers being asked to bring the milk bottle. The Doppo of his youth’s hands would itch to do so, grappling onto the hems of his shirt to control himself. His limbs have never been as charged with adrenaline just to be given the chance to hold his brother. His younger brother was chubby, soft and squishy in all the right places. The salaryman craved to sink his teeth on those spaces. His younger brother’s giggles have always been the sweetest, as well. The salaryman appreciates him so much more beyond his cuteness. Especially now. If they only had Doppo, rubber would’ve given their bloodline a more worthwhile fate.
Once the stifled cute aggression dissipates, panic settles in. Doppo springs away, his heart left somewhere, pulsating erratically for immediate tracking. Why is there a child on their bed? He knew he didn’t carry anyone for nine months. Of all his years in E.L. Medical Co., Ltd, there were no equipment manufactured for growth acceleration either.
The toddler inside the doctor’s shirt shuffles, rubbing his big azures with the back of his hand. Those pair of azures squint at Doppo. The child is unaware of the shirt enveloping him loosely, extending to a train tailing behind him.
The silence drags on. The tension in the air keeps the salaryman in a chokehold.
The child’s lips curl into a smile the salaryman knew too well. Doppo’s heart flutters instantly.
“Doppo-kun,” greets the child in a soft tone. He extends an arm towards the salaryman, wanting to stroke Doppo’s head. “Did you sleep we-” The child trips. Face first on the pillow, arm outstretched. This is not the length of limbs he was accustomed to.
“Oh no- sorry, sorry!” The salaryman picks up the child. He settles the child on his lap, one arm keeping the child’s lower half in place while the other assists the back of his head. “A-are you okay?”
This child can’t be his Sensei, right?
"Shh it’s alright. I’m sorry. It’s my luck- er… uh… are you hurt anywhere?” Doppo thumbs the child’s cheek. He cards through the child’s bangs, brushing it aside to reveal the layer of lavender underneath the purplish grey locks. Even his hair looks like Jakurai’s. He could vomit his heart right now.
A soft shade of pink blooms on the child’s cheeks. He seems to show a bit of hesitation in leaning into the salaryman’s touch. “I’m fine.” In an attempt to mask it, he averts his gaze. Doppo recognizes a soft sound, a soft, brief cough. “Is it just me or did you grow overnight, Doppo-kun?”
Everything froze. Doppo’s jaw drops with a clatter. “S-S-Sensei…?”
“Yes?”
The last time he felt this nauseous was after skipping breakfast, having a few cans of power drinks for lunch, and walking around Shinjuku, from one hospital to another, the sun mistaking him for a walking furnace. “H-h-how…?”
Jakurai shakes his head. “I…” The doctor falters and offers an apologetic smile. It’s uncanny in Doppo’s eyes to witness that expression of a mature doctor on a nursery student.
Phone rings.
Shit! Baldie!
He fumbles around the bed, flipping each pillow until the familiar heat of a blaring phone burns his hand. Doppo flicks the screen upwards.
A bellow swoops in and blasts his ears off. “Kannonzaka! Where the hell were you?” A snarl rips from the other end of the call. “That’s it! Since you can’t pick up quick enough, you’re doing deliveries today. Get your darn ass here immediately and be useful for once or I’ll skin you alive!”
Phone call ends.
An inaudible static looms in the bedroom. The salaryman slumps on the bed’s headboard, despondent eyes hanging on the ceiling, phone tumbling off his palm. A little hand rubs up and down his arm.
Doppo’s eyes shift to the now child version of Jakurai on his lap. "S-sorry..." He exhales. "Y-you.... you didn't have to hear that, Sensei." Doppo nips on his bottom lip before his dams crumble and release a flood orchestrated by the warring voices in his head. He shuts them down. This is not something to show a child, even if that child is the doctor himself.
He clears his throat.
The salaryman pulls the doctor close with utmost gentleness, cradling him in his arms. He urges Jakurai to rest his small chin on his shoulder while the side of Doppo's cheek rubs on the child's back. The doctor is much warmer as a little boy.
Jakurai sighs softly, turning towards Doppo. "It was never your fault, Doppo-kun. Please don-" A grumble of hunger breaks out. The child blinks. “Pardon,” mutters Jakurai.
Oh no.