Archive of Our Own

“I’d like to meet your parents!”

The declaration comes clear and loud over by the door to the kitchen. Rui lowers his book, intrigued to discover a full-body pose that matches the tenacity of the accompanying words. This must be serious business.

“You’ve met my parents,” Rui tells Tsukasa, who, rather than falter, stands up even more at this information. His fierce look would perhaps be more convincing if it wasn’t for the apron still tied around his waist and kitchen utensils in his hand.

“Passing each other once or twice on a visit to your house doesn’t count!” Tsukasa counters, and there’s a loud smack as his spatula inadvertently makes contact with the doorframe. Rui slots his bookmark back into the page and closes the cover to instead partake in this much better entertainment. “Don’t you think it’s wholly inappropriate that we’ve reached this point in our relationship and I have yet to formally introduce myself to your parents? We have to amend that at once!”

“What were you thinking?” Rui asks, sitting up. Tonight’s dinner smells nice. Hopefully it won’t burn.

“Well…it’s standard to visit for a meal, isn’t it? That’s how introductions like this usually go.”

“Ah, so it’s because of the movie?” Only the night before had they watched the film with an especially heart-warming scene featuring a woman meeting her partner’s parents for the first time and sharing sentimental stories about their childhoods. The plot overall had been a little too saccharine, and Tsukasa had agreed, but that hadn’t stopped him from watching that particular moment with wide, shining eyes. “I thought you did seem to be quite interested in that scene."

“It’s not because of that!” The quick turn of his head is a sure tell of a lie. “You’ve met my parents a handful of times and Saki even more than that, yet I’ve barely exchanged a ‘hello’ with your own family! What if they don’t even know my name? That’s terrible!”

Rui considers the nearly weekly ‘and how is Tsukasa?’ and ‘is Tsukasa going with you?’ texts he receives. They most definitely know his name. “If you’d like, I can ask my parents if they’d be free to meet this week. We can go over for dinner.”

“Yes! That would be ideal.” Tsukasa makes a face. “But there’s no way I can ask your parents to go through the effort of preparing our meal…then, I’ll be the one to do the cooking instead! Tell them they have nothing to worry about!”

“That’s a little unconventional, isn’t it? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind-”

“No, it would be unbecoming of me to expect anything else!” He nods as though he’s solved their issue, but his frown is still present. Rui considers Tsukasa’s tight grip around their poor, defenceless spatula.

“Are you nervous?”

“What- of course not!” His head whips the other way, and Rui sits up a little more. Interesting. “It’s like you said- we’ve met before. This is just an opportunity for us to become properly acquainted! I merely have to perform as my usual self and provide them the relief that their son is being properly cared for!”

“I’m not sure you have anything to worry about,” Rui says. “Yes, my parents are a little eccentric, but it’s nothing to worry about. They already think very highly of you.”

“Well, of course they’re fans! I am a star, after all! Wait, eccentric? You’re the one saying that?”

“Well, of course. Aren’t I perfectly normal?”

“Let me see the title of that book.”

“Hm? It’s just a manual about avoiding uncontrolled decompression. You can borrow it after, if you’d like.”

“Is this a bad sign?” Tsukasa starts talking to himself. “Should I be worried? Have I unknowingly invited myself into something terrible?”

“I’ll message my mother now.” Rui fiddles his phone out from his pocket whilst Tsukasa continues to murmur into his hand. It seems he’s choosing to confer with the spatula instead. That’s a shame, because Rui would’ve liked to hear too. “We’ll be free on Wednesday, right? You don’t have anything booked, do you?”

“I’ll be there!” Tsukasa delivers another strong pose. Even if he’s feeling hesitant, at least his valor is still present. “I’ll demonstrate just how much of a qualified suitor I am for their son and quell all their fears and concerns! They’ll be enthralled by the unmatched benevolence of the one and only Tenma Tsukasa!”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Rui says pleasantly. He already has four separate messages in reply to his initial text. Many emojis. “Is something on fire?”

“Your machines?” Tsukasa asks suspiciously.

“The kitchen,” Rui clarifies. 

“Ah-!” Tsukasa bolts from the doorway, and Rui listens to the desperate clash of pans and water running, before Tsukasa calls back ‘it’s still fine!’. Rui smiles, looking back to the myriad of excited questions still flooding the chat with his mother. It seems this will be quite the lively meeting, even if he gets the feeling there's something he's not quite understanding.

-

Standing here now, it occurs to Rui that he actually hasn’t visited home in quite a while. Many of his shows have had his parents in attendance, but they often work late, so it isn’t easy to arrange specific meetings if there’s no special event. Of course, this week is different. His mother has sent at least one confirmation every day since he first proposed the idea. Had he known just how eager she would have been, he’d have suggested something much sooner.

“Are you sure I don’t look underdressed?” Tsukasa fidgets with the hem of his shirt, the same one he’s tucked and untucked at least five times in the past ten minutes. “I really feel like I should’ve worn a suit after all…”

“I think my parents would get a bit nervous if you wore a suit to a normal dinner on a Wednesday night.”

“This is important,” Tsukasa stresses, trying and apparently failing to observe his reflection in the windmirror of a parked car. “If I don’t make a good impression, our entire relationship could collapse! I might have to pay a fine, or go on a quest to prove I’m worthy of their son’s love!”

“You have a very interesting idea of what my parents are like.”

“What are they like?” Tsukasa hones in on him, face almost as serious as it looks during the discussions that take place before removing a scene from a script. “Is there anything I need to know? Any forbidden topics? They both speak Japanese, right?!”

“Again, you’ve met them,” Rui reminds him. “Just act as you normally do. They aren’t really fussed about formalities or anything like that.”

“Mmm…” Tsukasa seems to have a moment with himself, before straightening himself into one of his most revered poses. “Like this? Will this be okay? This is an appropriate style for meeting someone 's parents for almost the first time, right?”

“Yes, yes, like that,” Rui assures him. “You’ll be fine.”

“I will, won’t I? There’s nothing for me to worry about!”

“Seems like they’re already waiting,” Rui says, observing the absent glow of the lights upstairs that signifies two empty studies. Quite a rare sight, considering it isn’t New Year’s or any other important event.

“Wait, Rui, I’m not ready yet-!” There’s a rustle of plastic bags as Tsukasa hurries up to join Rui as he opens the door. It’s warm inside, and the shoes stacked up on the side the same as they always have been. Yes, he should definitely visit more often.

“I’m home,” Rui calls out, removing his jacket as Tsukasa vibrates next to him. He really is acting like this is his first time here, even though Rui quite vividly remembers the day they had stumbled into this entryway soaking wet after an unfortunate incident at school involving a small fire and Tsukasa’s trusted umbrella. The key to the garage had been left inside so they’d had no choice but to enter through the front. Tsukasa hadn’t been so hesitant to enter then, instead lecturing Rui about how it was indecent to practice combustion techniques in general but especially near his belongings. Rui smiles at the memory, easy to grasp even if now so far away.

“Rui, Tsukasa, welcome home!” Predictably, his mother is the first one into the room, darting in with her usual quick, deft steps. Like Rui, she hasn’t dressed up at all, though seeing her without her lab coat and heavy work bag almost does feel formal to Rui at this point. “Oh, Tsukasa, you look so well! So handsome! Please come in, make yourself at home! Your father is just finishing cleaning up in the kitchen. Please, sit, sit!”

“Ms Kamishiro!” Tsukasa makes a hasty grab for the presents in his bag, before he quickly reconsiders and drops straight into a deep bow instead. “Thank you very much for your hospitality! I greatly appreciate your willingness and flexibility in making time to accommodate us tonight! Truly! Thank you!”

Rui lifts a hand in greeting. “Hi, Mom. Thanks for having us.”

“Oh my, it’s no problem at all,” his mother replies brightly. “It was a wonderful surprise to hear you wanted to come over. It’s always such a pleasure to see you, Tsukasa!”

“We brought gifts!” Tsukasa hasn’t yet risen, and Rui would remind him it’s okay to stand up straight, but then he wouldn’t get to witness the struggle of Tsukasa trying to locate the wrapped presents in his bag whilst still at a ninety-degree angle, and that’s just a little too much fun to miss. He’s not actually doing a bad job at it, either. If Rui doesn’t say anything, will he stand here like this the whole night? That’s an interesting thought. They could make a play about a man who is cursed only to stare at the ground, face hidden beneath his hair. Could Tsukasa handle something like that? Emoting through voice only? Yes, definitely, Rui is sure.

“Thank you very much, Tsukasa.” His mother’s hands on the gift sadly breaks the spell, and Tsukasa springs back up again, dissolving the stageplay in Rui’s head. “Please, do come in. Rui tells me you’ve been working on a new show lately? I’d love to hear all about it!”

She knows the exact thing to say. If a vampire can be coaxed into one’s home by the words ‘come in’, then the same can surely be said for Tsukasa with the mention of ‘show’. Rui takes a place on their family couch, admiring the burnt patches with a nostalgic smile. Tsukasa perches beside him, not standing, but not quite sitting either.

“I believe Rui mentioned your next show takes place in the early twentieth century,” his mother starts, placing the gift on the side table as she takes a seat. “That sounds very interesting. Is the script already complete?”

“Not- yet,” Tsukasa replies. “But we’re working hard every day to complete it to the very best of our abilities!”

“I suppose the dialogue in something like that would take quite a bit of research by itself.”

“Yes, that’s- right!” The almost staccato-like manner of his speech makes Rui wonder if he should check Tsukasa’s back just to make sure he hasn’t actually been replaced with a wind-up robot. Why is he so nervous? 

“I’ve been trying to create a more malleable version of a smoke machine to allow us to replicate a smog-like effect,” Rui says. “Of course, there would be various scenes in the show where Tsukasa would be essentially blind, but I’m sure that won’t present too many hazards.”

“Excuse me?” Tsukasa turns to him. “You didn’t tell me that. You said limited visibility for ‘periods of five seconds or less’.

“I told you it might be hard to see.”

“That’s not the same as ‘essentially blind’!”

“It’s simply different phrasing.” Rui smiles as Tsukasa throws him a scandalised and much more natural expression. “You’ll figure it out.”

“No, Tsukasa is right, Rui,” his mother tells him, shaking her head. “You must be very clear about these things. Even if your coworker is someone you’re very close with, it’s important to clarify the specifics as soon as possible. Especially important in that case, I should add!”

Rui feigns a hurt expression. “You won’t take the side of your own son? How cruel…”

“Because not everyone is like you and looking for various ways to kill me!” Tsukasa huffs. “Anyway, I’m not saying I won’t do it! But I need to know how much physical movement I’d need to memorise so I won’t get lost in the smoke.”

“I’ll draw you a map, if you’d like.”

“That would be very useful!”

“Well, I hope I can come see it once you’re done,” Rui’s mother says. “It’s been quite a while since I last saw a period piece. But I’m sure you two will do an excellent job, as always. I’m especially excited to see the costumes.”

“Thank you, Ms Kamishiro! That means a lot! We’ve been sketching up a lot of designs for that too, I have some pictures of my phone, here, let me show you-!”

At least he seems to have settled down a little more now. Letting the conversation merge from the shows and costumes to domestic talk is apparently doing the job, enough that he’s now actually making contact with the couch cushion. He probably thinks he’s doing a good job impressing his mother with topics like cleaning the house and grocery shopping, when Rui is pretty sure she would be impressed with Tsukasa even if he sat there and barked for the entire evening. Really, the bar has never been very high for his friends. 

Still, it’s nice to see the warm way she looks at Tsukasa, her focus more on his face rather than his voice and his sweeping hand gestures. He’s not really sure why she’s adored him so much from the start. His main theory is that the type of people his mom usually sees in her day-to-day working life are so boring that it’s engaging for her to spend time with someone so energetic.

“Ah, but we should get the ingredients into the fridge before anything starts to thaw!” Tsukasa stands up abruptly, like a toy that’s just had its activation button pressed. “Actually, shouldn’t I start cooking soon? I don’t want to keep anyone waiting!”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Rui’s mother offers. “Because we really don’t mind-”

“It’s no problem at all! I can handle it!”

“Well, at least you’ll have the assistance of Rui.” Her smile grows slightly sharper. “Right, Rui?”

Rui looks away. “Tsukasa said he can handle it.”

“Rui.” And there is the all too familiar glare of a mother who will still plate up a full portion of vegetables no matter how old he gets and how much he refuses to eat them. “You’re going to help your partner prepare the dinner he’s so kindly offered to prepare for us, aren’t you? Because that’s what a good partner would do?”

So, tragically, Rui finds himself following Tsukasa into the kitchen, even carrying one of the plastic bags for full effect. He notes that Tsukasa very pointedly did not offer to let him take the one full of stalks and leaves, which is a shame, because that’s the one Rui would most like to accidentally set fire to. At least his father is in here to help distract from the perils of the upcoming dinner.

“Oh, you two are already here!” His father steps back from where he’d been leaning behind the fridge. “I didn’t hear you come in. How have you been? Tsukasa, it’s so lovely to see you again!”

“Mr Kamishiro!” Ah, there he goes again, spine once more parallel to the floor. “Thank you very much for having us! We apologise for the intrusion!”

“Ah, no no, it’s not an issue at all. It’s nice to have a little change from our regular routine!“ There’s a box of tools on the counter, and Rui steps forward almost involuntarily.

“You’re working on something?” he asks. “May I see?”

“Ah, just a little…I had a hunch earlier today that there may be a way to further upgrade the wiring in here, and it seems like I was correct, so I’ve been trying to map out the best method of…” He stops. “Ah, but, um, not that any of that concerns you, of course! You’re here as our guests tonight! Especially with Tsukasa here, I shouldn’t be tinkering like this…”

“Don’t worry, Tsukasa doesn’t mind tinkering.”

“Is that what we’re calling blowing up the kitchen sink now?” Tsukasa asks flatly. 

“No, it’s probably best I leave it alone for now,” his father says with a sheepish grin. It’s a shame, since from what Rui can see, there certainly is a way to increase the efficiency of the cooler. Why hasn’t he tried to upgrade this before? It would only come with a thirty, at most forty percent chance of spontaneous combustion. Actually, that might be why. He’s sure his mother had only agreed to five percent. A devastatingly low amount, in his opinion. The lamp in his bedroom had worked for years before its abrupt demise, and he’d calculated that at fifteen.

“You have a dangerous look in your eyes,” Tsukasa says to him, and Rui smiles. “Remember, this isn’t your house anymore.”

“Is that permission to try it out in our own apartment? Thank you, Tsukasa! So kind.”

“It’s not-!”

“I guess I probably should put the tools away…” Rui’s father chuckles, and pushes his glasses up. “Your mother and I both agreed we’d try to give our work a rest for tonight. It’s unexpectedly harder than it sounds!”

“I understand that sentiment well.” Tsukasa nods, then his eyes suddenly fixate on something in the toolbox, which is odd, considering he usually eyes Rui’s tools with disdain and tells him ‘the dinner table is one thing, but I’m not having screwdrivers in the bed’. “Hm, what is that?”

“Which? This?” His father then proceeds to lift something from the edge of the toolbox that Rui had not noticed previously, which is maybe just as well, considering he would have launched it into the nearest trash bin if he’d have seen it first. “It’s cute, isn’t it? Rui made this when he was very small! It was one of his very first stable robots!”

“I haven’t seen this one before.” Tsukasa sounds far too intrigued considering what they’re looking at.

“That’s because it’s terrible quality.” Rui watches the awkward stack of blocks in his father's palm, stuck still with the inability to move. Its edges aren't well sanded and it leans a little too far to the left. If he were to look inside, Rui is sure the mess of wires and gloopy soldering would match the circuit boards seen in his nightmares. 

“Don't call it terrible!” Tsukasa steps in front of the robot protectively. “This is like the Rui version of macaroni art, isn't it? You shouldn't treat your past creations with such disdain!”

“It's just a little…primitive, is all.” The robot stares back at him, threatening to speak. “I'm surprised the battery has held up all these years.”

“Ahh, truthfully, the battery did die a while back.” His father holds it up fondly. “But I felt a little sad to say goodbye to one of your first creations, so I replaced it with a new one.”

“But…why?” Rui doesn't want to sound defensive, though he's sure he does. “I've made much better companion robots since then.”

“But this is your first one!” Tsukasa is adamant; he has chosen his side. “You usually treat all your robots like they're your children, new and old! Why is this one different?”

“It's just...not a very good one.” 

“Rui started making machines when he was very young,” his father continues proudly. “I had no idea what to expect when he started stashing away all my scrap metal, but I'm very glad I allowed him to use it! Of course, it definitely kept me and his mother on our toes for a good while…I think the hallway jack-in-the-box took a few years off both our lifespans…”

“It wasn't supposed to be scary.” Rui borrows his words from twenty years ago. “I thought the element of surprise would be exciting.”

“Doesn’t sound like much has changed,” Tsukasa says.

“Well, that isn't to say I don't understand your apprehension.” His father chuckles, placing the robot back with the tools. “Sometimes I look back at the code I wrote as a university student and wonder how I ever managed to pass. It's embarrassing to look at your old works, I know.”

“Not for me!” Tsukasa lifts his head proudly. “I keep all of my first performances in chronological order earliest to last in a secure box in my parent’s attic! And I ensure we watch at least one of them every New Year’s celebration.”

“Goodness,” his father says, genuinely impressed.

“They’re quite a watch,” Rui says brightly. “I much preferred ‘The Dragon and the Disco Golfer’ to ‘Attack of the Venom Triangles’.”

“Yes, yes, those two are quite the crowd pleasers. I was trying a lot of new techniques in Disco Golfer, so- wait, I don't think I've shown you that one yet?”

“Oh, really? I must be misremembering.”

“Rui, don't tell me you broke into my-”

“Anyway, do you remember where everything is?” Rui walks away from the topic easily. “I don't recall spending a lot of time together in the kitchen when we were younger.”

Not in person, anyway. Rui has vague memories of his head peering into the fridge with Tsukasa's voice tucked between his shoulder and ear, assuring his star actor that he was finally getting a drink and therefore they could continue conversation about their current show. Rui can barely even remember which one that was now. He mostly remembers his chuckle against the light of the fridge, the coolness of the soda bottle on his palm, the crackle of his phone. It must've been summer, towards the evening, though their call had started mid-afternoon.

“I think I know where everything is!” Tsukasa begins rolling up his sleeves and looking around, presumably for an apron. Rui doesn't have the heart to tell him his mother had put a ban on buying new ones after he set the eighth one on fire.

“Yes, please use anything you can find at your disposal,” Rui's father says, pushing up his glasses again. “You can treat this kitchen like your own! There are extra pans down there, if you need any.”

“Thank you greatly for your kindness!” Tsukasa exclaims, nodding far too seriously for a person about to make a stir-fry. “I'll deliver you a meal full of passion and exhilaration!"

“My, that sounds very exciting.” Rui's father moves over to their dining table to give Tsukasa space, and Rui follows so he won't have to see the vegetable slaughter behind. Three against four was sadly a much harder battle than their usual one-v-one. The tea his mother prepared still sits on the table, apparently abandoned, so Rui takes the opportunity to pour a few cups out.

“I hope work hasn't been too overwhelming lately,” Rui starts, passing his father the drink. “Those last blueprints you sent me looked quite complex. Sorry I wasn’t able to give you much help.”

“Complex but exciting! And no, I was able to figure it out quite quickly after incorporating your suggestions.” He laughs. “Honestly, I took some inspiration from your lighting set from your last show. Those sharp transitions were simply too good to ignore! And it had improved so much from what you had shown me just a few weeks before!”

“It definitely took a lot of…fine-tuning.” At least two sleepless nights, and then one more when he had woken suddenly at three in the morning with the answer to the problem that had been blocking his progress. In the morning, Tsukasa had lectured him for all but five seconds until he had seen the result of the impromptu work session. The excitement in his eyes was more than worth any fatigue induced headaches (though of course, he had dutifully taken a nap later that day).

“It was excellent to see it work so well in the show too.” His father holds the cup away from his face as the steam starts to fog up his glasses. “And Tsukasa really didn't miss a single beat the whole time! I remember thinking that you must've practised so much, and of course, I'm sure you did, but then I also thought, that kind of synchronicity is something you can only achieve with someone you're exceptionally close with, isn't it?”

“Ahh…” Something about hearing his own dad saying that is somewhat embarrassing. Rui smiles down at his cup. “I suppose so, yes.”

“To be able to follow an automatic setup like that with no hesitation or doubt…I think that's proof of the trust and security you and Tsukasa have in one another!"

Just as Rui opens his mouth, something explodes. For a brief moment he’s concerned that somehow his feelings have broken free and burst out in a loud bang, but then he realises that's not actually possible. No, strangely enough, the explosion didn't come from him. Nor his father, still sitting in front of him. Then, somehow, despite being the least likely suspect-

“Wh-wha…”

Rui turns around his chair and is met with the wonderful sight of sliced aubergine and yellow peppers scattered like confetti across the worktop and floor. Tsukasa is standing by the stove, now clutching nothing but a handle.

“Amazing!” Rui exclaims.

“Oh my…” his father says.

“Boys, don’t be too loud in there, okay?” Rui’s mother calls from the other room.

“Wh…why?!” Tsukasa cries, spinning back to face them with such intense velocity that he nearly teeters back around in a full three-sixty. “Why did it explode?!”

“Ah, it must’ve been that…” his father says thoughtfully.

“What? What is ‘that’? What happened?” Tsukasa flounders, searching for the source of the ignition. “What did I do? Why-? Mr Kamishiro, I'm- so sorry?”

“I designed that pan when I was younger,” Rui explains, and can't help but admire the confusion on Tsukasa's face. What a good expression. He should write something to bring out that kind of look more often. “It's wired so that if any vegetable touches its surface, it'll immediately explode. I intentionally made it to look as much like the others as possible so my parents wouldn't be able to tell them apart. Don’t worry, it's heat resistant, so the oil won’t be hot.”

“What? Why- it- what? Who makes something like that?”

“Don't worry,” his father says, and takes another sip of his tea. “These things happen.”

“Do they?!”

“But I was under the impression we got rid of it a long time ago…” Rui muses. “If I knew it was still in there, I would've warned you.”

“That's actually my fault,” his father says with a sheepish chuckle. “Your mother asked me to throw it away, but, well…I thought its object recognition skills were so impressive, so I couldn't quite bring myself to dispose of it.”

“It really…exploded…?” Tsukasa stares helplessly at the shattered remains of the pan, as if they'll provide him a different, more favourable answer. “Wait, you made this as a child and now I've destroyed it?!”

Rui hums. “Well, I suppose technically it destroyed itself…”

“C-can you make another one?” 

“Is that you asking if I can make one for our own kitchen?” Rui asks keenly. “Because, yes, of course, I'd be delighted to-”

“That's not what I'm asking at all!” Tsukasa looks dangerously close to attempting to collect up the shards and attempt some kind of surgery. “Mr Kamishiro, I'm so sorry! I had no idea and…I-I broke one of your treasured possessions…! Of course, I'll clean everything up straight away!”

“Ah, it's no worry! Like I said, these things happen.” His father chuckles. “Actually, seeing a pan explode like that is making me a little nostalgic…these things used to happen all the time…”

Rui smiles tightly. “Out of context, that really makes me sound like I was a terrible child…”

“I can't believe this…” Tsukasa is muttering as he scoops up all the pieces into a neat, colourful little pile. “I caused an explosion at my partner's parents house…but I never normally explode anything…I never even thought to prepare an apology for this scenario…this has never happened to me before…”

“He's right, actually,” Rui tells his father as he refills his cup. “Tsukasa never normally makes things explode. He's usually the one being exploded.”

“Don't say that!’ Tsukasa yells as the bin snaps shut. “I’m normal! Very normal! I don't volunteer to get exploded! You're making me sound like a crazy person!”

“Huh…? But you're the one who always comes into the room when I tell you not to…”

“Because I'm worried about our apartment! We have a security deposit, you know!”

“It seems like you have a very lively cohabitation.” Rui's father laughs. “Young love really is so wonderful.”

Rui turns his attention back to his tea, watching the light steam rise up into the air. If his face seems red, it's only due to the heat of the drink.

-

Unfortunately, it seems that Tsukasa was not only able to find a pan to safely cook with, but also had enough vegetables left to complete the recipe as intended. At least the meat and noodles are seasoned well, Rui thinks as he pushes the remains of his meal into a neat pile at the side of his plate. He’s sure his mother is giving him a look, and he knows Tsukasa definitely is, but so long as he doesn’t look up, he’s safe for now.

“You did a magnificent job with the meal, Tsukasa,” his mother comments from across the table. “I’m not someone who cooks much at all, so it’s always hugely impressive when someone manages to create a meal from scratch.”

“Hm, thank you! I’ve always prided myself in being able to prepare meals for my family! It’s a skill I learnt quite early in life.”

He sounds self-assured, but Rui can tell the whole pan explosion thing still has him shaken. The resliced segments of ingredients aren’t quite as even as they were before, and he’s still gripping his chopsticks a little too tightly. Poor Tsukasa. He’s used to things spontaneously combusting in their own home, but he probably erroneously thought he was safe in this kind of setting. It’s a bit too late for a warning now, unfortunately.

Instead, Rui uses his foot to lightly tap against Tsukasa’s leg under the table. When Tsukasa glances at him questioningly, Rui gives him a reassuring smile back, though Tsukasa still appears unsure. Well, he has said before that Rui’s comforting and scheming face are far too similar, but surely, he should trust that he isn’t up to anything (in this particular moment, at least). Tsukasa is probably feeling down that his experience is deviating too far from the comfortable atmosphere of the movie they had watched the other night. It must be quickly slipping out of the ‘useful for reference’ zone. Still, why does he feel like there's something he's missing? It's not usually so hard to understand Tsukasa's feelings.

“By the way, Mom, Dad,” Rui starts, placing his chopsticks down beside the tower on his plate. “Why don’t you give us the story of how you two met?”

“How we met?” His mother blinks, then laughs. “Why? Are you writing a love story in your next show?”

“Yes, something like that.” 

“Mmm…” She places a thoughtful hand to her chin. “But, I think it might be a little boring to use for a show…I’m sure you could find someone with a much more interesting story than ours!”

“That’s right,” his father adds. “It was quite simple. Wouldn’t it be better to use something with a bit more action?”

“Nothing is ever too simple for a show!” Tsukasa speaks up. “If something is acted or directed compellingly enough, then even a mundane story can become captivating!”

Rui is aware that for Tsukasa, this usually means adding a lot more violence and blood into an otherwise unnotable romance, though he has gotten much better at accepting stories with calmer stories beats into his repertoire. Selfishly, Rui actually quite enjoys seeing Tsukasa in those softer roles, which perhaps isn’t too far related from the fact that one day Tsukasa had casually confided in him that ‘understanding love has been a lot easier since I started dating you’. That had been…quite the confession, even if Tsukasa had been confused why Rui hadn’t been able to reply for a few seconds afterwards.

“It was in the second year of university.” This story is normally told from his mother’s perspective, and today is no different. “I had booked a cubicle for private study, but when I arrived, I found that it had been double-booked. It was especially odd because this was after exam season, so most students had already returned home for the summer.”

“Hm?” Tsukasa frowns. “So why would you need to study?”

“Ahh, because it’s fun, I guess!” His mother smiles, and Rui can tell from Tsukasa’s expression that this is a wholly foreign concept for him.

“It’s like how we attend workshops even when we don’t have a show coming up,” he offers as translation. Tsukasa nods slowly.

“Well, the particular booth was my favourite due to the layout of the desk. Your father was kind enough to allow me to use it that day. He said ‘don’t worry, there are plenty free’, and I assumed I would never see him again. But, the next time I went, he was there again. And he told me ‘I found out how the double-booking occurred, there was a glitch on the library's database, I’ve fixed it now’. And honestly, I was quite impressed that somebody could do that...”

“It was quite a primitive error,” his father says to Rui. “I’m sure you also would have laughed when you saw the coding they had used! But of course, computers were very different back then. They only had one available for public use in the entire library! Its only real functions were room bookings and inventory tracking.”

“I didn’t speak to your father for a very long time after that,” his mother continues. “I saw him often and would sometimes wave, but we never spoke. Until, one day, many months later, all the private study booths were closed for refurbishment, and we ended up sharing a table.”

“You didn’t speak for so long?” Tsukasa asks in astonishment. Probably the thought of passing an acquaintance so many times without striking up conversation is absurd to him. 

“Well, we were both very focused on our studies, I suppose. Anyway, we ended up sharing a few words that day. I mentioned how odd it was that ever since that day of the mistake, my preferred booth had never been taken by anyone else. Every time I wanted to book, it was always available! And when I told your father this, he blinked quite a few times, and looked away with a strangely red face. Eventually, he managed to splutter out ‘that’s because I changed it so only your student ID is valid to book that space’. My, my! I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say!”

“I’m still a little embarrassed now…” his father says.

“It was quite a while before we had a date that wasn’t in the library.” His mother’s smile is warm and nostalgic. “We both wanted to focus on our studies first, but, well. Surprisingly, it’s easier to focus when you have someone else sitting beside you.”

His father sighs dreamily. “When I saw just how gently she held the skull of a baby bird, I knew she was the one.” 

“Nobody can resist the cuteness of the brown-eared bulbul,” his mother says, and winks.

“That’s…” Tsukasa starts with his head low, tone hard to read. Maybe it was too strange a tale after all? Rui supposes most people don’t mention bird skulls in their love stories. But when Tsukasa looks up, his eyes are shining. “So beautiful…!”

“It sounds a little unwholesome out of context, but I guess our own story isn’t so typical either,” Rui says, brightened by his reaction.

“It’s really wonderful you were able to find someone with a passion that matched your own, even if your fields are different!” Tsukasa says. “And you achieved your dreams together too! That’s so impressive!”

He remembers telling his classmates about his parents’ careers one day in a school presentation, and being met with comments like ‘they must not be very fun’ and ‘like the mad scientists in the movies?’. A new wave of appreciation for Tsukasa blossoms in his chest.

“Yes, I thought at first, ‘how could I ever be with a man who’s only interested in robots when all my work is centered around the beauty of living things?’” Rui’s mother continues. “But then I realised, we both love the wonder of detail and fine tuning, the elegance of creation and existence. The components of a wired robot are not so different to the veins and hearts inside our own bodies.”

“And learning more about my own body made it easier for me to understand the movements in my robots,” Rui’s father adds. “And of course, I learned the importance of not ignoring my needs like drinking and eating, no matter how riveting my work may be…”

“It’s quite a wonderful existence to not be alone all the time.” His mother’s eyes glint kindly as she smiles at him. “But I’m sure you understand that well now too, don’t you, Rui?”

“...I do.” Unexpectedly finding someone whose passion shines just as bright and allowing them to become part of one’s everyday. Learning from them and letting them propel one forward, instead of holding one back. Sitting here next to Tsukasa and realising just how much they mirror the bond of his married parents…that’s…

“It’s just like you and me, right, Rui!” Tsukasa grins his way. “Because I became a better actor thanks to you! And you can improve your directing! We’re always working hard together each and every day! That's why it's so easy to love each other!”

Ah, he came right out and said it. Of course, because when is Tsukasa not as direct as humanely possible? Even if the combination of those words and the way his parents are beaming at him is enough to cause his brain its own, personal, spontaneous combustion. 

“I’ll- clear up the table.” 

“No, no, let me handle that.” His father starts collecting plates before Rui can even move. “You've already put so much effort into preparing all the food tonight! The least I can do is wash up.”

“Yes.” His mother's smile is just a little too wide. “No need to be so shy, Rui.”

“Your parents really are incredible though, Rui!” Tsukasa continues. “It makes a lot of sense how you know so much about science when you consider your upbringing. No wonder when we watch documentaries you have so many facts at the ready no matter what animal it is.”

“Rui used to love learning fun animal facts as a child!” his mother says excitedly. “He was so enthralled when I told him about how platypuses glow under certain lights. Every time I brought a sample back from work he'd beg me to see it! I'd end up saying things like ‘if you brush your teeth and change into your pyjamas then I'll show you my Arabian leopard incisor’. Honestly, I don't know why I bothered with any of those parenting books. You can convince a child to do anything when you have a tooth collection.”

“I'm not being spared at all tonight, am I?” Rui asks in sad defeat.

“So you used to have collections of that stuff just around the house?” Tsukasa's eyes are wide, as if it's not normal to have such things in a family home.

“I still do!” And all at once, the switch activates. Rui can practically see the bolt of lightning that runs down his mother's brain into her eyes, irises sparkling with excitement. They are no longer at the dining table in a family home. They are inside a laboratory, and their mother has just handed them their own VIP visitor passes. “Would you like to see? I can bring you some down right now!”

It must've been a particularly strong bolt, because she doesn't even wait for an answer before fleeing the table and rushing out the room. Vague mutters of ‘what should I bring’ and ‘no, that's too basic’ follow her up the stairs. It’s a good thing Tsukasa does actually seem quite interested. For someone who hasn't grown up with this, it must sound like quite the novelty.

“So she collects samples of interesting biological things?” Tsukasa hums in contemplation. “That sounds so intriguing! What kind of items does she have? Snake skin? Bat wings? Weird animal fur?”

“It changes quite often,” Rui replies. “They're not so much things related to her work as they are just a personal collection.”

“I can't imagine growing up getting to see stuff like that! Your parents are so cool, Rui! Why did you never tell me that before! I totally would have wanted to see! Do you think we should put on an animal inspired show next? We could study the parts up close to get an in-depth understanding of how they work and how to mimic their movements!”

“Hmm, that's not an unreasonable possibility. We could do a show with no dialogue.”

“Oh, interesting! You'd really have to focus on body language to convey thought and emotion.”

“And costumes too. Oh, and perhaps we could tell the story through lighting and the set pieces.”

“You could use a backdrop. You could use that silhouette idea you wanted to try!”

“That would work well…and we could-”

“I found something!”

Both of them are startled back to present as Rui's mother enters again, clutching one of her many beloved boxes. Right, maybe now isn't the best time to start planning a new show. They can only have one extreme enthusiast at a time. 

“Looks good!” Tsukasa stands up to join his mother back at the couch, and Rui dutifully follows. 

Actually, he's a little curious to know what she's decided to show them. Something classic from her original staple collection, or a new piece she's acquired? At least Tsukasa is settled again. This is how he should be; bright eyed and eager.

“I have something I think you're really going to like!” Rui's mother preps the box on her lap, sitting opposite Tsukasa. “I once took this to a school as part of a special exhibition they had, and the kids there absolutely loved it! It's definitely something everyone can enjoy, regardless of their knowledge of zoology!”

“Oh, sounds exciting!”

“Okay, okay.” She takes a breath, only just controlling her grin. Rui tries to peer around the box to see what it is, but she's already enclosed it within cupped hands. “Close your eyes, and I’ll tell you when.”

No normal person would accept these conditions so easily, but Tsukasa has apparently been so conditioned after so many years of being with Rui that he obliges straight away. He holds out a flat palm as if he’s about to have his fortune read, and Rui perches on the nearby chair with interest. If it’s something spikey, he might get to hear a magnificent sound.

Rui’s mother moves her hands over to Tsukasa, and places something down. His face twitches slightly but his eyes remain obediently shut. Rui cranes in a little more as his mother starts to move her hands back, and, ah-

“Okay, open your eyes!”

Tsukasa does, and his eyes fall down to his open palms. There, sitting proudly in his hand, is a very large, very shiny, six legged beetle. It's so grand in its scale that Rui can see the notches on its legs from where he's sitting, along with the intricate pattern on its back. It is beautiful, and it is exceptionally uncommon, but. It is an insect. It is an insect sitting on Tsukasa’s hand.

“This is the fully intact body of the goliathus goliatus, or, the goliath beetle! It's a beetle native to many parts of Africa, and one of the largest in the world! Isn't it amazing?”

Rui watches. Something very strange is happening to Tsukasa. Somehow, his earlier smile is still present, but frozen. It’s become a painting of a face ready to be hung up and displayed in an ornate frame. One says art must be born from suffering, and the beautiful display Tsukasa is providing right now certainly proves that theory right. The almost unnoticeable tremble in his pupils creates the impression of a scream so intense that it stretches beyond the sound barrier and back into full silence again. His right shoulder jolts, just a little.

“...So…amazing,” he manages with all the vigour of a pneumonia patient on the first day of regaining their voice.

“Right?” In comparison, she has the face of someone watching a newly adopted puppy chewing its first bone. “This one here is actually a female specimen, but the males can grow up to almost five inches! Can you imagine? One insect with such a length!”

“Ah, Mom,” Rui cuts in. Tsukasa is starting to look wobbly. “Maybe you should-” 

“It's- so. Cool.” Tsukasa chokes out the last word with what must be 1% air and 99% sheer determination. Rui feels his eyes soften, because of course Tsukasa doesn't want to offend his mother even as she coos over what must be his personal idea of hell. “Really- amazing…!”

“Yes, it just takes your breath away, doesn't it?” She beams. “Did you know this particular species even has two types of wings? The set they use for flying is actually kept tight under the elytra - that's this bit here - and they're much bigger than you would think!”

The smile has dropped, and this time both his shoulders tremble. Still, his hand remains impossibly still, as though detached from his body. An exceptional performance, but it's probably about time Rui closed the curtains. Tsukasa likely isn't going to call out ‘cut’ himself.

“Mom,” he tries again. “Maybe you can take the beetle back now?”

“Don't be greedy, Rui! Tsukasa only just started his turn!” She shakes her head. “Here, look. These claws on the front are designed specifically to hold onto trees and fruits! Look, you can see the sheer power those claws must've once held! Can you feel the strength of the legs against your palm?”

Tsukasa opens his mouth. Then he closes it again. Then he blinks, twice. And then his entire body drops to the side.

“Ah,” Rui says.

“Huh-?” Rui’s mother stares at the fallen soldier in front of her, the bug still amazingly balanced on his limp hand. Even in death, he refuses to surrender. “Tsu-Tsukasa? What’s wrong? Rui? Is he unwell?”

“That’s…not quite it.” Rui sits down beside Tsukasa to readjust him more against the backrest of the couch, letting his mom retrieve her six legged angel and place it back in the safety of the box. “Tsukasa is a little…sensitive around insects.”

“Sensitive?” She seems to be making the connection between the bug in her lap and the unconscious figure in front of her. “He- what? Rui! Why didn't you say anything! Why didn’t he say anything…? He really fainted from that? Oh dear…I knew I should've shown him my silk moth instead…”

“That's a bug too, Mom.”

“Well, a lepidopteran. He's even afraid of that?” The researcher in her appears momentarily dismayed, before her motherly side resurfaces. “Either way, you should've said something sooner! I never wanted to scare or upset him!”

Rui tilts Tsukasa's head to a more comfortable position, petting his hair gently. “I think he was just really trying to impress you both tonight.”

“Impress us? But he doesn't need to do that.”

Tsukasa's eyes twitch, and his head rolls forward. Then, as if shocked with ten thousand volts, he sits up and gasps. “Wh-where is it-?”

“Don't worry, I put her back away safe,” Rui’s mother assures him. “Do you feel okay? Any headache or nausea? Oh dear, I’m so sorry for scaring you!”

The pieces of what just occurred seem to be connecting in Tsukasa's mind as he looks around. “N-no, it wasn't anything like that! I must've just…got so excited that I got a little dizzy! Ha ha ha…! You can- you can take it back out if you want…!”

It’s really a commendable effort. Rui pats his shoulder, but it's clear to see behind his shaky grin that Tsukasa is devastated. In his mind, he probably thought ten more seconds and he would have been granted escape. What Tsukasa doesn't realise is that that bug would've sat on his hand for the rest of the night if his mother’s rambling was allowed to go unchallenged. 

“Here, let me get you some water.” She places her box to the side, lid thankfully down, and hurries back to the kitchen. Once she's out of the room, Tsukasa lets his head drop.

“I can't believe it…I've truly messed up this entire evening…”

“I don't think you've messed anything up,” Rui tells him honestly. “Rather, I was extremely impressed that you stayed calm for so long. Remember when all it took was seeing a centipede on a nearby tree to bring you to tears? You've improved so much.”

“I wasn't ever reduced to tears,” Tsukasa says, and Rui lets him have this one, even though they both know he's lying. “But…I really wanted to prove myself tonight. I want your parents to know you’re with someone strong-willed and reliable! How can they trust their son with someone who causes kitchenware to explode and passes out at the sight of a bug? An extremely large bug!”

“Neither of those things were your fault.” Rui places his hand on Tsukasa's, both in comfort and to show him there's no goliath beetle there anymore, but he remains sullen. “I told you. My parents are eccentric people. They won't have any bad opinions of you because of tonight.”

“No, they're both completely normal,” Tsukasa says miserably. “I’m the one who couldn’t live up to expectations…”

“It’s really okay. Like I said, my parents already like you.”

“But tonight was important. I had everything planned out.”

“You mean because you wanted it to be like the movie? We can always come over for dinner again if you want.”

“You…don’t get it.”

"Can you...explain it to me?" Or should he already know?

Tsukasa shakes his head. “I'm going to get some air…I can't show my face here any longer…”

“Ah, Tsukasa-” Rui reaches out to stop him, because it's only been a few minutes since he fainted and he might still be unsteady, but Tsukasa avoids his hand and staggers over to the front door, closing it behind him with a small click. 

With his parents both in the kitchen and Tsukasa gone, the room suddenly feels very empty. A hazy memory of himself sitting alone on this same sofa after a secluded day at school flashes through his mind. Should Rui go after him? Or is it better to give him a moment alone to recover? Tsukasa usually likes to deal with his problems in private, but then, isn't Rui supposed to support him as his partner? Is it bad that he doesn't immediately know the answer? 

Actually, maybe he's been taking the evening too lightly this entire time. It clearly meant a lot to Tsukasa, so shouldn't Rui have tried harder to ensure everything went smoothly? This place is familiar to him and doesn't have any special meaning or significance, but Tsukasa is someone who goes into everything with the mindset of one hundred percent perfection. Maybe it's wrong for him to go seek out Tsukasa if he's the one to blame for how he's feeling right now.

“I wasn't sure how much to get so I just brought the whole jug-” Rui's mother halts as she enters the room, looking around in concern. “Oh? Where is Tsukasa? Is he okay?”

“I think he's just feeling a little bit…shaken,” Rui replies. “I might’ve…said the wrong thing.”

“Really? Did you have an argument?”

“No, but…maybe I should have tried a little harder.”

“Oh my, you have that same look on your face as you did when I asked you if you wanted to go on the school trip back in middle school.” Rui's mother places the jug down with a soft smile. “That expression of ‘I want to be close to others, but I'm afraid I won't belong’.”

“...Do I have such a specific face?”

“It's okay. These things just happen sometimes. It's like when I accidentally stabbed your father with that scalpel or when his robot gave me an electric shock. Think of it as like when you get a cold. It feels terrible in the moment, but it passes quickly enough. And you can barely even see his scar anymore! I don't know what I was so worried about.”

Rui is sure of this, because every disagreement he's ever had with Tsukasa has ended in less than a few days, but in the same way it's hard to believe good health can exist with a blocked nose and a sore throat, it's also hard to envision how exactly to make this moment right. 

“Oh my…it’s more serious than I thought.” His mother gives him a sympathetic smile. “I'll go speak to him, okay? It was me he wanted to impress, partially, so I'll be the one to tell him he has nothing to worry about. Okay, Rui? You don't have to look so forlorn.”

“...Okay.”

It makes sense, even if it doesn't feel quite right. The room's emptiness looms again as his mother leaves with a glass of water and a hand in her pocket, and even though Rui now desperately wants to follow her, he moves to the kitchen instead. His father is busy washing up, but his eyes are still on the fridge panel. 

“Ah, Rui! Is Tsukasa feeling okay now? Your mother said she gave him quite the shock! And oh dear, with the goliath…what an unfortunate choice! Tsukasa may never want to come within fifty feet of our house ever again.”

“No, it's probably the opposite. He was really hoping to make a good impression on you both tonight.”

“But it's always a delight to see Tsukasa! I guess in the show world, you could say that we're quite the fans of his!”

“I know. He really is amazing.” Rui stares at this room he knows so well, the fridge that used to seem so much taller. “I'm just…worried I've upset him. I'm not sure if I’m doing this right, even now.”

Rui's father hums as he turns the tap off. “I think that's a sentiment many of us share.”

“It's strange how relationships can feel completely normal and wholly foreign all at the same time.” 

“Isn't it? It's the most natural thing that makes no sense. If you tried to draw out a circuit board for every relationship that had ever existed, you would likely find every one of them to be different in some way. But, isn't that marvellous in its own way?”

“It is.” Rui pauses. “I just…don't know if I know how to be the ideal partner.”

“Hmm…but how do you define ‘ideal'?” He speaks like a professor introducing that semester's essay topic. “I'm not sure such a thing exists so easily. After all, isn't love the capability to love someone despite their individual misgivings? It's the imperfections that make true affection really possible.”

No citations, but Rui is interested in the argument. Does he overlook misgivings with Tsukasa? He knows some people have remarked on his volume, or his energy, or his eccentricity, but to Rui, those are the qualities that make Tsukasa so captivating. It's not that he ignores or puts up with them. They're why he finds it so much fun to spend time with Tsukasa. Why he wants to spend every day with him.

But then, what about the other side? Before he even hit middle school, Rui had been convinced he was the type of person better left alone. A little too weird and a little too passionate. An impossible human who lacked the ability to earn others’ trust. A strange robot with a crucial part missing but no receipt. Those thoughts feel centuries old, especially since he first heard Tsukasa tell him he loved him, but- standing in his childhood home, he's realising some memories aren't quite as far away as they seem. Deep down, he's still uncertain, and hesitant, and scared.

“Overthinking can be a dangerous thing.” His father's hand on his back makes Rui jump. He hadn't even seen him take the gloves off. “You and Tsukasa made a wonderful couple. Your mother and I always say so. You fit together like a mortise and tenon.”

“...That much…?” It must be hyperbole, but somehow, Rui can believe it. He does fit best with Tsukasa. There's nobody else in the world that could fit the space he fills. Rui could spend years over a blueprint and never conjure up a better person, because Tsukasa was already a surprise in himself. Something so unique and intriguing. Now hiding outside the house because he felt he had presented himself as inadequate.

“I'll go speak to him,” Rui decides, standing up once again. His father smiles at him, and he still has a line of suds under his chin where he had rubbed the washing up glove. 

Of course, now Rui understands the plan is simple. He'll talk to Tsukasa, assure him his parents still like him, and cheer him up by asking him to recite a few lines of their next show to his mother. It doesn't have to be complicated. Like the exposition that follows the prologue, or a wire connecting to the bulb, the pieces all join together seamlessly and allow an unimpeded, easy flow.

Rui opens the door, and immediately spots Tsukasa and his mother sitting by the wall. The evening has grown much darker, and they're illuminated by only street lights and the glow of the house. He watches a glimpse of the light reflecting back at him as it rolls down Tsukasa's cheek. 

“Tsukasa-” It's magnitude ten. He's at his side in what must be a new measurement of time invented solely for this moment. Rui has one hand on Tsukasa's arm and another on his shoulder, palm twisted in a way that he can use his thumb to wipe away the tears. “I'm sorry, I was being selfish, you were so brave, I didn't think, I was underappreciating how much this meant to you-”

Rui stops as he notices the object gently cradled in Tsukasa's palm, sitting in the hand that rests on his lap. It’s crude and unappealing, its joints crooked and worn. Why is this here again? He thought his father had tucked it back away in the toolbox. Or, had he actually seen that, or just imposed his own version of what he hoped had happened in his memory? Hopefully the latter, unless this twenty year old robot has suddenly learnt how to teleport.

“It’s okay, Rui,” his mother reassures him. She doesn’t seem alarmed at all. “There aren't any negative feelings about what happened. This is something else.”

“Then…why are you crying…?” Rui asks, letting his grip loosen but not detach. “And why do you have that robot again?”

“I thought he would like to see it,” Rui's mother provides as Tsukasa sniffs and rubs at his face. “I know you find it embarrassing, but, ah, I still do find it so sweet.”

And, terribly but perhaps inevitably, she taps the robot on the head and its eyes light up a dull yellow. A child's voice cheerily crackles out, “do you want to play together?”

“I was telling Tsukasa how much you used to play with this little darling,” Rui's mother says fondly, and pets the robot's head like she used to do with him as a child. “All the others, too! Sometimes I would hear your voice coming from a room only to find you weren't there at all. It gave me a terrible fright some days when I knew I had seen you go to school that morning!”

The robot speaks again. “That's a good idea! I like that game too!”

“The audio quality is terrible,” Rui tells it, then stops when he notices Tsukasa’s eyes start to water again.

“It’s lonely,” he says thickly. “It wants someone to play with.”

“...This is a very old robot,” Rui says.

“I didn't realise.” He sniffs. “I thought you liked to use our voices because you found it fun. But it's because you were bored of always saying it yourself, right? You wanted someone else to ask you to play.”

“...Tsukasa’s voice is just more exciting.” But he's already been undeniably caught out. How terrible that Tsukasa can see through him so efficiently. That's a part of love he wasn't quite prepared for.

“It's disappointing when you only have yourself to reply to, isn't it?” Tsukasa holds the robot up to his face as if it's the one he wants to declare his love to. “When I was younger, I used to pretend someone was in the other room by yelling out, and then quickly running into that room to reply. It was fun, but a little boring after a while. Also, my parents said the neighbours were getting a little unnerved.”

“Unnerved?” Rui smiles.

“But the point is! It's lonely to only have yourself to talk to. To pretend and imagine.” Tsukasa lowers the robot back to his lap. “You need to have another voice to hear you, sometimes.”

“I know. How lucky I am to have found the greatest and highest decibel voice in all the universe.”

“Hm, that's me!” Tsukasa raises his head proudly, tears still shining. “I'll continue training my voice until it resonates throughout all the cosmos!”

“It is rather impressive,” Rui's mother comments. “I've heard bellbirds that can't quite reach your volume.”

“And whenever I call into the next room now, I know I'll always get a reply!” Tsukasa continues. “So don't worry, Rui! You don't have to rely on just yourself anymore!”

“Of course.” He knows that. He's known that for a very long time. Yet, the way Tsukasa wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a tight hug almost makes him feel like he's learning it again for the first time. Over his shoulder, Rui stares at the little robot, a reminder of all his past loneliness and doubt. Tsukasa loves it anyway. He's seen it and heard the pathetic things it has to say and cradled it in his hands regardless. How strange. How wonderful.

He notices his mother watching him with soft eyes, and Rui lowers his gaze with an awkward smile. “I guess now I'm the embarrassed one.”

“Why?” Tsukasa pulls back, blinking at him. Rui shakes his head.

“I'm sorry I let this evening get away from me. I should have considered your feelings more.”

“It’s fine. The story your mother told me about this robot- it made me understand why they already trust me so much. Even though I still know I have a lot to prove in the future! At least I understand now I’m not starting from zero.”

“Of course.” Rui’s mother smiles in his direction. “We love Tsukasa very much.”

“I can't understand why, based on what you've seen of me, but nonetheless, it’s a comment I very much appreciate!”

He’s much more upbeat again. Then it's a case of just returning to the original plan. “If you're still not sure, why not demonstrate a few scenes from our last show? Then you can really say you've proven yourself for good.”

“Oh, excellent idea, Rui!” Tsukasa nods again, then jumps up. “Then, please wait for me! I still need to go ask- apologise to your father too! Please bear with me! Afterwards, I'll be sure to show you a top calibre one-man performance!”

Tsukasa scrambles back up the garden path, the door shutting behind with a familiar slam. Thank goodness that he has his usual energy back. Rui looks back at the robot sitting next to his mother on the wall, and takes a seat.

“I did try to tell him he didn't need to do anything special,” Rui says. “But I should've paid more attention, I know.”

“No, he hasn't said a single negative word about you. He was disappointed in himself. And a little embarrassed. I suppose that's understandable. Though you really should've told me he was entomophobic!”

“I tried…”

“I mean beforehand! You really thought you could bring an important guest over and I wouldn't pull out my beetle collection? Honestly. You've really have lived away from home too long.” She lets out a breath that seems to cool her disapproval. “I am quite relieved, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Rui's mother collects the robot up into her own hands, using her thumb to stroke its cheek. It crackles a cheery ‘how are you today?’. “I was a little worried when you were younger. Or I suppose, very worried, now that I look back. I also had a very difficult time making friends as a child, and it hurt me more than anything to think you would have to go through similar heartache. I wanted you to spend every day with lots of fun and laughter, surrounded by people you loved. I wondered a lot, ‘am I making the right decisions? Is there something else I can do?’. I wanted to see you happy more than anything else, but it felt like an equation I couldn't solve.”

“It wasn't so bad,” Rui says. “I had your and Dad’s support. You’ve always made me feel okay with who I am.”

“I’m glad.” She smiles at the toy in her hands. “I really wanted you to find love, too. Actually, can you believe that at first I wanted to set you up with Nene! Then I realised a few years later it was most likely going to be someone slightly…different. When I first heard you mention Tsukasa's name, I had a feeling it would grow into something much more.”

“It's- not like I was in love with him from the very start.” Rui hopes the dim light will hide his flush.

“You say that, but…well, call it a mother's intuition. I noticed every day you would come home with a little more energy. You were creating and inventing so much more. And when I would ask you what it was for, you would say something like ‘this is for an idea I want to try out with Tsukasa’ or ‘I want to use this for a show with Tsukasa and my troupe’, and I could just tell from the way you smiled when you spoke and the way you said his name…me and you father were always rooting for you!”

“...I wasn't aware I was so easy to read.”

“I know you're all grown up now.” She pets the robot again. “But sometimes I can't help but imagine you as that little boy you used to be and think ‘ah, I'm so glad’. I'm so glad to see how much you've accomplished, and how much you've grown. So it's a relief, for me. To know you love someone. To know you have someone who really, truly loves you back.”

Rui stares at the robot as his mother sets it down. It's so damaged that it can barely stand on its own, but Rui catches it before it can topple over. Lifting it up, he looks up into its bright eyes. He can still remember the sharpness of the shock he had gotten when trying to screw in the back panel too early, and the smell of the paint spill he had hastily mopped up with old newspapers. Like all his robots, he had built it with a grin on his face and fantasies of what it would be once it was done. To show others and to make them smile. He can remember the way his smile had slipped for just a moment when he had only the voice component left to go. The way the microphone had stared at him in the solitude of his bedroom.

“That sounds like a really fun idea!” the robot tells him, seventeen years ago. “Let's try it out together!”

“I'm very grateful for Tsukasa,” his mother says, closing her eyes with a warm smile. “He really is wonderful.”

“...I think so too,” Rui says. He rubs the scuffed metal of the robot's head, and its eyes glow back at him. “And here I thought you would never accept me being with someone so intensely fearful of insects.”

“There is no such thing as a perfect person. But some flaws can be easily overlooked in the presence of much more worthy traits.”

“I suppose.” Rui laughs. “I really don't understand why he was so nervous tonight. Normally he goes into every situation with nothing but unwavering confidence, no matter how uncalled for it may be.”

“Well, I suppose it's understandable. It can be a very scary thing to ask! I remember your father being an absolute wreck. But you were right in saying he really had nothing to worry about.”

“Hm? Ask what?”

Rui's mother sits up. “About your childhood, of course! It's a very vulnerable thing! Anyhow, shall we get back inside? I don't want to miss any of Tsukasa's performance! Do you think he'll take requests? I would love to see the rain scene again!”
 
She shoots off back to the house, and Rui is left wondering if he might be missing something. But all in all, everything seems to have gone well. Rui takes the robot back inside, and considers what batteries he might need to use next time they need replacing. He’ll have to ask his father which ones he used. Later, though, since he’s already fully preoccupied with Tsukasa when he enters the lounge. The finale battle scene probably wouldn't have been Rui’s first pick for a performance inside a rather small indoors area, but his father is apparently enjoying it very much. Rui manages to swipe the vase from the coffee table before Tsukasa can send it flying.

But he's doing a good job. Rui finds himself drawn into the performance before he's even fully aware of it. Some of these scenes are from shows from years passed, and it's wonderfully nostalgic to get to witness them again. Picking up on every small change that Tsukasa makes is a delight in itself. It's not always easy to notice how much he improves with each show since Rui has grown so used to seeing excellence, but it's undeniably always there. 

Rui turns to observe his parents’ reaction to a particularly impactful line, and realises that they've apparently been watching him instead in that moment. They're smiling. They look happy. And then it makes sense. Of course they love Tsukasa. They love him because he loves Rui. It must be obvious how much Rui treasures him too; what expression had he had on his face just then? It's a little embarrassing to consider. But he turns back to Tsukasa's show and lets himself bask in the warmth. He really did find the happiness they wished for him. Against all odds, he found someone just like him. Someone to make shows with. Someone to talk to. A different voice to his own.

Rui sits back and allows the embarrassment of seeing his parents swoon over his relationship. They've worried so much. So he'll let them be a little doting this time. After all, Rui thinks as he continues to watch Tsukasa's passionate monologue and miming of heavy rain. They really do have nothing to worry about.