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Barok had never liked surprise visits, even when he was young. He’d always felt cornered, with no time to gather the manners and etiquette lessons instilled in him. As he grew older, he would cite violations to his privacy and infringement upon his exceptionally busy schedule—which, yes, both are true. But there are some things that can be considered a brother’s privilege, especially when brothers are on very good terms, and Klint considers a surprise home visit to go beyond that: ensuring his little brother is taken care of for the long term with this new flatmate and heat partner is his God-given right.
And, well. For once, Barok hadn’t been exaggerating when describing the man whose random act of kindness resulted in a convoluted arrangement far beyond the scope of his imagination. At least, not really. When Klint showed up at the door, the man named Naruhodo practically bent over backwards to greet him properly, usher him inside, and offer him various drinks and snacks to partake.
It's interesting: he’s nervous, but he doesn’t strike Klint as spineless.
“You don’t have to be so mindful of me,” Klint says when he sees Naruhodo packing him something to take home as he’s readying to leave.
Still, Naruhodo is very politely insistent. “Please, it’s no trouble. Besides, I’d gotten too much on sale earlier and it’d be a waste to let them go bad just because Mister va—Mister Barok and I couldn’t finish them all.”
The gesture reminds him of Genshin’s wife. He wonders if it’s a Japanese thing or just because Naruhodo wants to get into his good graces. Either way, Klint leaves his brother’s flat with a bag of assorted fruits and an extra box of green tea leaves he had lying around ‘just because’.
It almost seems too good to be true, really. Throughout their lives, both Klint and Barok have faced varying levels of deception in failed attempts to pull up metaphorical chairs to the Van Zieks family’s sumptuous table. Not to say that everyone outside of their economic bracket has ill intent, but the majority they’ve encountered were definitely just after money and prestige. Klint had the wherewithal to keep people at a pleasant distance early on as their family rose into the upper echelons of wealth, but Barok had been born at the peak of their family’s ventures—and born with such a unique condition that was once thought to have been phased out of their family completely by the late ‘50s. It made Barok an easier target: vulnerable to his instincts, if left unchecked or unprepared for.
With all that, it was only a matter of time until that sweet-tempered little darling hardened into the cold, stern-faced brother of today.
Barok does call him later, clearly annoyed at his surprise visit while he was not at home. Looks like Naruhodo is also honest to a fault. Klint lets him vent for a bit before saying, “I don’t see what the problem is. He seems to be alright as far as people go.”
“That’s not the issue,” Barok says, clearly frustrated. “I keep asking you not to meddle in my affairs. You’re going to get his hopes up and it’s going to complicate things.”
“Does Naruhodo actually expect anything?” While Klint did think that the guy was a bit overzealous in his hospitality, he didn’t get the same flavour of bootlicking that people usually would have when trying to dig their way into their family’s pockets. Overall, their short time together was more like a new roommate desperate to stay in his lane.
“If not now, then eventually.”
Which, fair enough. Being overly cautious has saved them both more times that it had harmed. Still, it’s a bit heartbreaking to witness. Barok lives a functional life, but the walls he’s built mean that he leaves himself bereft of the small joys that make him truly living. Like a dead shell that still looks alive and beautiful from a distance.
Maybe Klint would have been like that too, had he not married. He may not have inherited any feline traits, but being the eldest son of an entrepreneurial juggernaut has its own difficulties. As he’s discovered, however, a warm family has a way of softening the heart. Perhaps that’s why he’d been so pushy about Barok finding a partner, or even just a close friend, that he can trust his condition to: because if he can find someone that manages not to be a complete scumbag in the face of something as vulnerable as a heat, then they’re surely someone of relatively good character.
(And well, their specialised physician also recommended that Barok not be too reliant on medication. Better to try and deal with his instincts naturally than to artificially repress them.)
“Have you been feeling better though?” Klint asks—because, at the very least, this is the crux of the issue at hand. “It’s been a couple of months since he first moved in with you, so you must’ve had another heat period, right?”
After a brief period of silence, where he knows he wasn’t just hung up on, Barok answers, “He’s useful, I’ll give him that.”
“Well, alright.”
For now, an answer like that’s more than enough.
It still doesn’t stop Klint from dropping by unannounced while he knows Barok’s away for business, though.
“Besides,” Klint says, leaving some containers full of baked goods on the counter, “my wife wanted me to give these to you as a thank you for the fruit and tea. She and my daughter made way too much for a school function and I figured I’d share.”
Naruhodo is absolutely delighted as he takes a peek into the clear plastic. “They look delicious. Is it alright to have some now? I’ll get the kettle going!”
Flitting about the kitchen to get everything for tea, chatting about the weather or Klint’s family or interesting events around the city, complaining about low-stakes topics like the prices at the supermarket or the train schedules: it’s a snapshot of a homemaker, an image of a perfectly ordinary young man, almost the very archetype of a boy next door.
“Have things been going well? I know my brother can be a bit harsh with people.”
“Oh, I’m used to that sort of thing,” Naruhodo answers casually before pouring them both some generous cups of tea, putting milk and five sugars in his own drink. He takes a bite from a crumpet he buttered heavy-handedly and says, “Mm, just as good as it looked. Thank you so much! Please pass along my compliments to your wife and daughter, too!”
In a split blink-and-you-miss-it second, Klint sees the hairline fracture in the image. Naruhodo continues to eat and smiles like he hadn’t just said something that’s actually quite sad, like ‘being used to that sort of thing’ means also being used to mending plenty of those hairline fractures behind the scenes. Again, Klint doesn’t feel any of the usual tells; what he can feel, now that he knows where to look, is a desperation to hide away behind a screen of normalcy.
Have they misjudged the situation?
“Are you actually okay with all this?” Klint finally asks. He feels compelled to honesty somehow. Maybe finding out the truth to Naruhodo is as easy as that. “Barok’s pretty much roped you into this as a convenient way to appease me and I’d also prefer having someone to help him with his heats, but you still have the final say. You’re a person too. If you find something disrespectful to you, you shouldn’t have to put up with it. If you want to go back to your life, I’ll be grateful for what you’ve done for us and compensate you. You’ll never have to deal with us again after that.”
“I mean, I admit that I’d have rather not gotten involved in the first place, but can you blame anyone for that? If you really wanted to, you could probably wipe me off the earth and no one would notice.” There is a certain look in those dark eyes: something scared and vulnerable, not unlike a preyed animal or when his brother experiences the initial simmering of his heat. For all that he usually fidgets, true fear makes Naruhodo completely still. He grips the cup of tea in his hands, tight enough that his fingers don’t tremble. This might be Klint actually witnessing Naruhodo for the first time and not the unflappably kind façade he’s made to reassure everyone, including himself. “Situations like this, where the ordinary person can catch the eye of extortionary people, make for good books on the shelves. But they don’t happen to people like me in real life. It was through sheer chance that I came across Mister Barok.”
And yet, is what Naruhodo wants to say. Klint can tell. He lets him have his silence, lets the seconds tick by as he works up the mettle. Those dark eyes start to dart around—though they never meet his own—and that’s when Klint knows he’s ready.
“It was just sheer chance and I just went along with it at first because it was easier. But I feel bad.”
“For Barok’s condition?”
“No, just—he doesn’t even like me.” The corners of Naruhodo’s lips quirk up: this is the smile that he should have had before, a dejected sort of resignation. “If he’s going to spend the long-term with someone, it should at least be someone he likes rather than someone that’s just convenient.”
“We’re not at liberty to wait until that someone comes.”
“I know… That’s why I don’t mind if I’m just a placeholder until then. I don’t like the idea of him being alone. It’s not an excuse for everything, but even if he grew up privileged and with you as his staunch supporter, Mister Barok’s still lived a hard life, hasn’t he? That’s why he’s like this. As little as I can do, I want to at least be around until he can find someone.”
Suddenly, Naruhodo sets down his cup and faces Klint with the biggest, brightest eyes. Like a pleading puppy—or the boy next door mustering everything he could to confess his deepest feelings. “Even if they’re not quite what he needs to best navigate his life, isn’t it best that he chose them all on his own? So when Mister Barok finds someone he can truly cherish, can you let him have them? Please?”
For the second time, Klint’s probably misjudged Naruhodo again. The picture’s becoming clearer now, where it continues to remain hidden away for both Naruhodo and Barok. It’s so stupidly obvious now; Klint’s gone through it himself a decade ago.
It’s love.
God, Naruhodo’s actually in love with Barok, isn’t he?
All his life, he’s just wanted Barok to live as normally as possible, given his circumstances. There had been so many times where he failed to protect him: from their family, from high society, from Barok’s own body. Klint would trade all manner of wealth or prestige if Barok could laugh happily like when he was a small child, unaware and unburdened by what lurks in his future.
“I promise,” Klint finds himself saying, to the much-relieved Naruhodo. “I’ll leave Barok to you, then. I’ll support you both as best I can.”
“I’d rather put myself in Iris’s hands than his,” a voice comes from the entryway. Naruhodo jolts, scrambling to his feet to greet the man of the hour.
“Welcome home! I thought you were supposed to arrive tomorrow night?”
“You think I’d actually go drinking all day with a bunch of imbeciles?” Barok hangs his coat and comes into the room proper, glaring at him the whole time. Klint relaxes, knowing that this kind of petulance means that he’s not in an entirely bad mood. “What did I tell you about this, Klint?”
“Listen, my darling wife asked me to drop some stuff for you. How could I say no?”
“By saying no.”
“Ah, Mister Barok, do you want me to start dinner?”
“Did you even shop for groceries today? Since you didn’t expect me home tonight, you probably stocked up on more instant slop.”
“I mean, I went to the Asian grocery and those instant noodles are better.”
“Disgusting. Let me see the complete ruin you’ve left my pantry in.”
Klint tries so hard not to laugh. It’s like he’s not even there anymore, being audience to a comedy routine only done by people who’ve gotten used to living together. He can easily transplant his married friends in this situation and it would play out similarly.
‘You’re going to get his hopes up and it’s going to complicate things.’
Maybe it’s just as easy as it seems.
Call him naïve, but Klint wants to believe in Naruhodo. He can’t believe in much of anything anymore—but he can believe in love because he’s experienced its transformative nature personally. And Klint desperately hopes that the person Barok eventually chooses will be the one in front of him, who fills up the space of his brother’s flat with all of life’s small joys.