Work Text:
“Tobi-kun… you had a brother, right?”
A puff of smoke caught in his throat, and Tobi choked for a solid minute before recovering. Something equally frustrating and interesting about Sunao was his ability to catch someone off guard with just about anything. A conversation with him could never be simulated, because it was simply impossible to tell what he would bring next. The most alarming part? Tobi was confident that he didn’t do it on purpose, but it sure seemed intentional at times—like this one.
“I… have a brother, yes. Why?”
Sunao shuffled uncomfortably. He seemed to subconsciously move further away as the smoke cleared and Tobi regained some composure. He took quick, shallow breaths as if trying to avoid inhaling any. Tobi, noticing, snuffed out his cigarette on the railing and flicked the end over the ledge. He wasn’t supposed to be smoking anyway; Baku was just not around to stop him.
The boy shivered, curling further into the hoodie that just barely seemed to cover him. Something obviously weighed heavily on his mind, but he was reluctant to say it. Tobi knew better than to push it. Instead, he waited. He was bad at filling silences anyway.
Sunao slumped against the railing as if he were prepared to dive over it. If he leaned any further, he probably would. “I never had one growing up. I don’t know what it’s like.”
Tobi released a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. At least he had some sort of idea of how this conversation would go. “Are you asking for my experience?” he asked. “Our brothers aren’t the same.”
Sunao wilted at that. Tobi feared it was too blunt, but he didn’t give him the chance to correct it.
“No, I… I know. Sorry. I’m probably overthinking it.”
“Overthinking what?”
He refused to make eye contact—he even seemed to be deliberately avoiding it. Tobi restrained the urge to lean closer.
“Living with Mahiru-san…,” he began, “It’s not what I expected, I guess. I didn’t expect much, really, but…” Tobi noted the glassy look in his eyes that signalled he was thinking hard about this. He had them somewhere, but the words would not come out in coherent forms. He waited.
“I-I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I’m thankful. Shocked, even, that he took me in. I just… I don’t know if I can handle him.”
Tobi’s brows furrowed slightly. “‘Handle him’?” he echoed.
Sunao’s hands gripped the railing so tightly that his already pale hands turned even whiter. He was struggling to spit it out, and that struggle made Tobi nervous. It was one of those things that you couldn’t just say. Something that needed buildup. A climax. Something too intricate and complex to be outright said. Tobi was useless for anything he couldn’t solve with his fists.
“I mean… He’s a lot. Sometimes.”
Tobi stood up straighter. “Is it not working out?”
Sunao quivered. “No, it’s… It’s fine. I think.”
“You think?”
“He’s nice to me.” It was said truthfully, but it had a weird air to it. Something Tobi couldn’t name but did notice.
Breaking his stance of not pushing, Tobi urged, “But?”
“He… doesn’t seem to be okay without me.”
Tobi paused. That was the last thing he expected him to say about it. He was prepared to go to war over this—he’d have fought any and every person he needed to to place Sunao in his care instead. If it wasn’t safe, he wouldn’t allow him to stay there. But this…?
Tobi’s silence made him shudder. “I-I know that sounds like nothing. It’s— um… It’s weird.” Sunao seemed to crumble into himself with every word said, like the topic was tearing him apart. It might have been. Tobi wouldn’t know unless he let him continue.
Sunao kept talking, somewhat unable to stop. “Sometimes when I’m about to leave for work, he… he’ll grab onto me. Beg me not to go. Not to leave him.” He shook something invisible off his leg, almost like he was reliving the experience. “I feel really bad, but I tell him that I have to. That I’ll be back soon.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop. “Sometimes I can still hear him wailing when I go.”
Tobi said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. It was completely different from his own experiences—as predicted—but he still felt like he should know something. That he should have something other than silent support to give. He never found it.
“When I get back home, he’s a mess. Like… that one time. That was the worst of it. But it’s usually just… empty beer cans everywhere. He’s on the floor somewhere. He might be crying.
When he sees me, he lights up. He asks me never to leave him again. He says he’s afraid that I won’t come home. I never know what to say. I feel bad. I want to just stay home, but that scares me. I don’t know if I could handle that all day.”
He started shaking, his arms curling around his body, soothing himself. Unconsciously. It made Tobi’s heart ache.
“He asks me to sleep with him a lot,” he continued. “He hates sleeping alone. He never lets me go. I don’t know how I feel about it. I want him to be happy, but it feels strange. Like something I shouldn’t be doing, even though it’s not that bad.”
Tobi moved closer to him—it wasn’t a conscious effort. Something in him told him it was the right move. “Have you said any of that to him?”
Sunao exhaled sharply in what could have been mistaken for a laugh. Tobi knew better. “God, no. He would lose it. I’d feel even worse.”
Tobi thought back to his own brother. He didn’t get to learn much, but he knew that Sunao’s description was entirely foreign to him. But they were different people with different lives and different dynamics. Who was he to judge what was normal and what wasn’t? It wasn’t like Tobi was particularly flourishing in normalcy himself.
He leaned over the railing, looking down at the city. It was surprisingly quiet, as if the entire town was holding its breath in wait for something that wasn’t going to come. Sunao didn’t look at him, so Tobi didn’t look at him either.
“I can’t speak on your relationship,” he said, “but I think you should be able to talk to him. Especially if something is bothering you.”
Sunao slumped further as if that was the last thing he wanted to hear. It probably was. His communication skills were terrible, and he never wanted to improve them. It was too frightening to even think about. “I don’t wanna ruin this,” Sunao muttered. “I don’t wanna go back to nothing.”
“You won’t go back to nothing. You have me.”
Sunao looked at him this time. His eyes were wet and shiny. Tobi couldn’t help but imagine a sad kitten staring up at him—a kitten that had been tossed around and discarded every time it got comfortable, that grew so used to accepting scraps that it couldn’t handle anything more.
Sunao whimpered, “You deal with so much already. You don’t have time for me.”
“I’ll make time.”
“You say that so easily…”
“It is easy.” Tobi stood, picking Sunao’s hand up off the railing. He held one of his hands with both of his own. Sunao’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t pull away, and Tobi considered that acceptance. “It’s easy if it’s you.”
The concept of that seemed to make Sunao even more nervous. He avoided Tobi’s gaze, his hand quivering in his grasp. Tobi clasped it firmer, as if finalising it.
“...Maybe I’ll ask him about it tomorrow,” Sunao stammered. “He wants to go out for lunch together anyway.”
Tobi rubbed his thumb across his palm in either a soothing or rewarding motion—maybe both. “Good.” He watched Sunao’s face break out into a smile, and it sparked a warm feeling in his chest. He would do anything for that smile, he decided. The gratification received from seeing a loved one smile was worth any price. Tobi didn’t understand that until he felt it.
“Now come inside. It’s getting colder.”