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Haruki lazily flipped through dusty pages of his old, most treasured books, pristine and untouched since the day he moved out. He hadn’t spent much time in it before, either, but he had always been excited to organize the new lots of books he had been gifted every time he was discharged.
Haruki and Touma were staying with their father for a bit to take care of him after his own hospital discharge. It was the first time in many years that the three had inhabited a house together.
Haruki had been staying in the guest room on account of his old bed being unable to properly accommodate his adult growth spurt. Despite this, he found himself wandering back to his room like a ghost to its familiar haunt. Touma, who had reached their dad’s height in his first year of high school, had had no such issues.
Haruki grabbed another book, hesitating when he saw the cover. It was a photo album. Something like this had once been excruciating to look at.
…He flipped open the cover.
Age 7. Haruki smiling softly, a cast on his arm.
He hadn’t broken it. He had never gotten the opportunity to be reckless like that as a kid, but he had been jealous of other kids he’d met at the hospital with their temporary stays.
Well, mostly he just thought it looked kind of cool to wear one.
Haruki exhaled humorously. It didn’t look cool at all. He just looked like a stupid kid, but he was glad his brother and the nurses had indulged him. The kids who wore casts always boasted about how excited they were to have their friends write their names on it. Haruki didn’t really have friends, but that just meant Touma could write his name really, really big.
About 5 minutes had passed wearing the cast before Haruki had felt the urge to stretch and requested it’s removal. Maybe those other kids weren’t so lucky after all, Haruki had thought. They couldn’t stretch their arms like he could.
Haruki flipped the page.
Age 6. Haruki bundled in a comically large coat, his brother crouched holding a mittenless hand, rubbing it back to life in the cold. They had been driven to a large, open field in the snow.
Haruki had been used to watching snow trickle by his window, but the white color only intensified the white sterile walls, so he would usually shut his face in a book instead. He had been happy that day to see the snow in person, though. It reminded him of all sorts of stories his big brother had told him.
Touma himself seemed to suit the snow. Haruki had thought that then and now. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Perhaps it was his chilly, blue hair, or his demeanor, as calm and gentle as the blankets of snow falling around them.
Touma had met Haruki’s wide, staring eyes, with interest.
“Oh… You can see my breath, huh?”
Haruki hadn’t been watching his breath, but he nodded. The cold obfuscated his blush, embarrassed at being caught staring.
Touma crouched down and breathed warm air on Haruki’s face, a pretty, white cloud forming.
Haruki stared starry-eyed. He wanted to make a pretty cloud too.
He took a deep inhale-
-and coughed it all out in a fit.
Touma startled and fumbled searching for Haruki’s inhaler, while their parents rushed over, concerned. They were on edge after that incident, and ended up cutting the snow day shorter than planned, much to Haruki’s disappointment.
Their parents had snapped a photo while the two weren’t looking. Touma was smiling in this one. A candid photo.
Haruki thought that he’d like to see Touma smile like that again.
A sheen of dust flew off as Haruki flipped the page, and he hacked as he inhaled it, almost dropping the book. He felt a ghostlike presence behind him and turned to see Touma standing in the doorway.
“You…” Touma started. Had he come because he heard the coughing? Or had he been standing there for some time?
“I’m alright.” Haruki shielded his face from the remaining dust with his sleeves.
Touma took a few experimental steps before joining Haruki at his side and peering over his shoulder.
Right, the picture of them in the snow. Haruki blushed and felt as if he’d been caught looking at a dirty magazine.
He didn’t know that Touma had felt similarly when he had been caught watching Haruki’s back, thinking indecipherable thoughts about the younger man.
For Haruki, the silence was too much, and Touma, a hair away from brushing his shoulder, was too close.
Touma finally spoke. “…Ah… I remember that day. It’s been forever since we-“
-since we played in the snow. Touma caught himself as he almost said something so careless, thinking back to the still fresh feeling of Haruki’s blood smearing his fist.
“…It was fun, wasn’t it?” Touma substituted.
“…It was.”
More silence.
Haruki tried to break it this time, but he held his breath as the words left his mouth. “We should go again some time.” Was it too much? Too fast? How would Touma react?
After a long pause, perhaps feeling similarly, Touma finally replied.
“…Yeah. We should.”