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Hiromi finds himself awake late in the night. More uncommon, he finds himself alone. He sleepily stretches his arm out, making sure it isn't just that George hadn't just wormed to the entire other side of the bed while asleep. Hiromi is cold, and he'd like his human heater. Alas, no George. He tries to wrap the blankets back around him, go back to sleep or at least wait until George comes back.
He drifts off once again, and when he slips back into consciousness he can see an hour has passed since when he last woke up. He decides still being alone, even though it's the middle of the night, is enough reason to get up. A light is coming from across the house; Predictably, it's coming from George's office. Hiromi can hear something gently playing from in the room.
In his chair sits George, unaware of Hiromi's presence. He has something in his hand being fiddled with, but the light of the computer isn't enough to fully illuminate it.
He must hear Hiromi stepping through the room, because he pauses his video and Hiromi can see him slightly perk up. He doesn't turn around, though.
Hiromi leans over his shoulder and wraps his arms around him, and George lifts his non occupied arm up to reach back for a half hug.
“Is that you?” Hiromi asks. It's quite redundant to ask, because he knows the answer. There's no other person that could be than George's younger self.
“Mhm. Daddy had a few old videos in that room of his.”
George thumbs over the Juuga driver. Hiromi can make that out now, up close. There's a farness to George's voice, lacking the zeal he usually has.
“I wonder if you would have liked him, Hiromi.” George finally lets the arm around Hiromi fall down. Hiromi stands up and replaces his chin on George's shoulder with his hand.
“Your father?”
George shakes his head, just barely. He taps the screen with the stamp, handle touching kid-George’s head. “Him. If he had grown up, you know?” He leans his head back to look at Hiromi, staring absently at Hiromi's confused expression.
“You don't get it.” He smiles, like he finds Hiromi's confusion cute. It's different, though. Hiromi can't describe it. Maybe it's just the sleepiness.
“I don't.” Hiromi’s other hand reaches to cup George's head. “I want to.”
“You know about Chic. Daddy's gift to me.” He sees Hiromi tense and pats the hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry. I got over it, remember?”
George unpauses the video of himself. “You see him? I wonder if he would've been a scientist, too. Maybe a normal scientist. Or an artist.”
“I still don't understand. He’s right here.” He squeezes George's shoulder for emphasis. George lets his head roll onto his shoulder, a imperfect imitation of playfulness.
“He isn't though, you see? He could've been entirely different if it weren't for Chic.”
“Everyone changes when they get older. You never could have stayed the same.”
George sighs. Not annoyed. Sad, maybe. “You don't understand, still. It's not that I got older. I'm something else.”
“I don't understand. I'm sorry. But I still care. I'm glad I know the you I do.”
He isn't sure if George really hears what he says.
“With Chic destroyed, who's to say I'm not something else again?”
“I don't think you've changed. No more than I have.”
George still doesn't answer. In the silence and the glow of the screen, Hiromi can see that his smile is gone now. "What if I took him away from you?"
“I would love you anyways. I do love you, anyways. If something has changed, I still care about you. As long as you'll let me, I will.”
George blinks, like he's coming back to himself a bit. “...I love you too, Hiromi.” He intertwines his fingers with Hiromi's.
“Do you want me to stay? I'll watch with you.” George looks from Hiromi to the computer.
He hums. “No.” He stands up, still holding Hiromi's hand. “You're probably cold, huh? Let's get back to bed.’