Chapter Text
"I'm hungry," Keigo Takami, age 23, complained, kicking a rock off the sidewalk and into the ditch. "Buy me lunch."
Enji Todoroki, age 46, let out a long suffering sigh, glaring at the younger, shorter man beside him. He glanced down at the clipboard in his hand before looking down the street, as the two kept walking. The humid August heat was getting to him, but he wouldn't admit to it out loud. Instead, he drank a sip of his bottled water, the flashy symbol of their local fire station, emblazoned on it. "There's two more houses on this street, and then we can take a lunch break." And before the other man could reply, "Yes, I know, yakitori and sushi.”
Keigo smiled and placed his hand on his chest dramatically. Enji could practically hear his beaming smile as it stretched across his face. “You spoil me.” He playfully bumped into Enji's side.
As the two turned down the next driveway, passing a well manicured lawn and a shiny new pick up truck, Enji rolled his eyes. “God knows why I put up with you.”
“Because I'm cute and adorable.”
“No, you're a spawn from hell, here to torture me for my sins.” But Enji did know why he put up with the brat; he was the only one at the fire station who could keep pace with the older man, and that made him the most tolerable company. Unfortunately, Keigo took that as a sign to be annoying whenever possible. Still, better an annoying partner than a dead one. If Enji didn't throttle his neck first. Just keep breathing in, out, slowly. Enji knocked on the door, noting the generic welcome mat and plastic door wreath. Flower pots were lined neatly and evenly spaced on the edge of the sidewalk.
“Then atone and be forgiven... Although, they do say gingers have no souls.” The impish grin dropped from Keigo's face as he settled into his more “professional” persona and peeked at the clipboard in Enji's hands.
He could shuffling on the other side of the door. “That joke wasn't funny first twenty times I heard it,” he hissed before an old lady with dark hair and eyes, probably in her seventies, answered the door. He cleared his throat. “Morning, ma'am.”
Building interpersonal relationships was never Enji's strong point; it was always best to let Keigo do all the talking. And boy did he like to talk. “Good morning ma'am. My name is Keigo Takami, and this is Enji Todoroki. We are here on behalf of our local fire department,” he pointed to the logo on their t-shirts. His saccharine smile could melt the icy cold heart of any unsuspecting target. “It is that time of the year again! Our annual fundraising “ball.” Mrs. Shimura, isn't it?” A purposeful pause as she responded affirmatively. “Our records state you have been a reliable donor in the past. Would you like to buy a ticket? Seventy five dollars. I'll save a dance for you,” he cooed, his amber eyes gleaming with sweetness like a well set trap that has ensnared many young women before. He wasn't Mr. February in the fire station's fundraising calendars for nothing.
Mrs. Shimura snorted. “You don't need to entice me with dancing with some brat, but,” she stepped back inside her home for a moment and returned with a checkbook. “Is Yagi still the chief?” she asked conversationally as she scribbled. “Ask him to save a dance for me.”
As Enji muttered his thanks, took the check from her, placed it in the money bag attached to his clipboard, Keigo chirped, “Will do! I'm writing it down in my notes as we speak! Thank you for supporting your local fire station!”
After marking her address as visited and recording her donation, Enji handed her a strip of paper paper that counted as her “ticket.” She laughed and read the info printed on it. “See you boys then. Goodbye!”
When the door closed, Keigo's impish grin returned. “One more house, and then Enji buys me lunch,” he sang.
Enji chose to suffer in silence and followed him to the last house on the street. The yard needed mowing two weeks ago, the flower bed along the front of the house was overrun by weeds, and the sedan parked in the driveway looked like it hadn't moved in years. There was another car parked in the yard, with obvious mud tracks from the tires to the ditch to the road. The house was not on record for any previous donations, nor did it look the type to donate, but Enji has seen Keigo pull off miracles before.
Enji knocked and watched Keigo's face melt into his persona again. A twenty something year old, probably Keigo's age, with ice blue eyes, answered the door. His pale complexion belied the fact the black hair was a bottle job (a terrible one at that), and Enji easily recognized the mottled skin on his arms, neck, and face as burn scars. The man had everything pierced, ears, brows, nose and mouth. What was with this generation of men and piercings? Enji glanced at the studs in Keigo's ears. The potential customer sneered and gripped the door frame. “The fuck you want?”
For a brief moment, Keigo's mask slipped, but his honey smile returned. “Hello! My name is Keigo Takami, and this is my associate Enji Todoroki. We are with the local fire department. Are you the homeowner?”
The man just stared at them. “I'm shutting the door now.”
“We don't mean to take any more time than we need to. We were wondering if you would like to make a donation? Your donation will be tax deductible. We are selling “tickets”-- and he shut the door.” Keigo shrugged. “Can't win them all. Now. FEED. ME.”
It would not be the last time Enji let out a long suffering sigh. He crossed out this address. “Come on, then.”
Keigo let out a whoop and grabbed Enji's arm, pulling him down the sidewalk.
–
The two of them were practically regulars at the Japanese Cafe in town. Keigo had dragged him there enough times that when the short, young lady behind the counter saw them at the door, she was already punching their order into the register, a myriad of colorful, plastic bracelets clanking with the movement. “Good afternoon, Manami,” Keigo cooed as he plopped onto one of the benches. They had managed to get there before the lunch rush and had the whole place to themselves. It was a small place, crammed into a strip mall, having only eight tables, but it was popular enough that Enji refused to eat there during peak hours. No matter how much Keigo whined for it. “How is the married life treating you?”
Manami gushed, “Oh, it's been wonderful,” as she filled their glasses, already knowing they both wanted sweet tea.
Enji eased into the bench across from Keigo. “Did you two finally get married?” He glanced at the tall guy manning the stove, visible from the dining area. He was at least a decade younger than Enji but it was almost hard to tell with the premature graying.
Manami set their drinks on their table and flashed the moderately sized, pink, heart-shaped diamond on her finger. If there was one word to describe Manami, it was pink. Long pink hair, pink fake eye contacts, pink in every outfit, pink heart-shaped earrings. So, to find a pink ring on her finger was a given. Keigo whistled. “Damn, that must have taken years to save up for.”
She preened under the compliment, bringing her hands to her face. Her pink, heart-shaped earrings dangled as she rocked. “I really think Danjuro's YouTube series is taking off.” Yes, it was sort of a local hit at the moment, with videos explaining local lore and legends of their small town. It was impressive how he managed to stretch twenty five minutes of time explaining why there was a statue of a lady on a horse in front of the topless bar; it was because the lady fell off her horse and died in that spot many years ago. To be fair, Enji had always wondered about that statue. Most of his videos was about the town's founders or talking about why a certain street was named after a certain person. Enji had watched enough of his videos to know the general view counts would not be covering a ring that nice, nor the cafe generating enough customers. Then again, he never figured out how YouTube worked, nor how the restaurant business worked. Still, even if it was “years” like Keigo exaggerated... He stopped himself from doing the mental age math in his head.
“It would seem so,” Keigo smiled, brightly, and Enji mumbled an agreement. When she turned her back and headed for the kitchen to start their sushi orders, Keigo was on his phone typing. Typical millennial (or was he gen z?). He stared pointedly at Enji, when Enji's phone vibrated. Enji stared back, not wanting to play into whatever gossiping mood Keigo was in. After a beat, Keigo kicked him in the shin and gestured dramatically at his phone, glancing furtively at the couple in the kitchen, who were more focused on cooking than his shenanigans. Sighing, Enji dragged his phone out of his pocket. Phones these days were getting smaller and smaller and not too kind to Enji's sausage fingers. The less time he spent on one, the better. Unfortunately, Keigo practically lived on his phone and expected the older man to do the same. After a comical struggle to get his phone unlocked and his messages opened, he was greeted with:
I can't be the only one worried about the age gap, right?
Enji looked up and glared. He typed back, They seem happy, and it's none of my concern. And put his phone back in his pocket. A clear signal that the texting was over with.
He could watch the frown forming on Keigo's face as he read his reply. He almost typed back, before he noticed Enji's phone was missing. “Nothing concerns you,” he complained, whispering. “An entire town is bustling around you, and you're not plugged in anywhere. Just floating around, eat, work, sleep, repeat. What do you even do in your spare time?”
Enji bristled. “It's--”
“None of my concern, I know. I'm going to teach you how to have fun one day,” he threatened.
He frowned. “Please don't.” Keigo was work, and he stayed at work. Besides, the less people who saw his sad little life the better.
Keigo laughed. “Aw, now it's a challenge. A pet project to get the scruffy old man to enjoy life.”
“Your idea of fun is just sex and alcohol. I'm too old for that shit.” Meditatively he rubbed his jawline and dropped the subject. There was no arguing with him. Instead, he looked to the kitchen and saw the love struck aw in Manami's eyes as she looked to her new husband. He remembered being on the receiving end of such a look once. Enji had been in love at her age too, before...
He looked back to Keigo, who was also watching the couple in the kitchen. He wished the younger man would leave his personal business alone but knew that was impossible for the nosy bastard. He was but an imp, freshly crawled out of hell, whose sole purpose in life was to uncaringly remind Enji of his past ill deeds, even if Enji never told him what they were, and Enji allowed this imp to torture his soul, drag him this way and that. Enji was not a good man, never was, never will be. And if the imp decided to drag him to a Japanese Cafe to see a freshly married couple to remind Enji that he once had a loving marriage before he fucked it up, then so be it. Enji needed the reminder. Even paid for the privilege as he paid both their tickets, and Enji tipped well.
Keigo looked at him curiously, calculating eyes shifting, question forming on the tip of his tongue, but Manami returned to their table with food in hand, snuffing the question out of existence. He was more concerned with the food in front of him and singing praises to the chefs.
The teriyaki beef really was the best thing in town, in Enji's humble opinion. He left his salmon sushi half eaten, knowing the other half would go missing when Keigo thought Enji wasn't looking. The first few times, Enji had put up a fuss, but now it was just to be expected that Keigo took food off his plate as he pleased. A small price to pay to the annoying imp. Enji knew one of his salmon pieces had gone missing just by the grin on Keigo's face. And sure enough, there was only three pieces of sushi left. He gave him a half-hearted glare as he feigned innocence. Still feigned innocence as another one went missing. Once, Enji made the mistake of simply putting the food on Keigo's plate instead of letting him play his weird little game. Once. Keigo acted like Enji had shot his childhood pet with all the indignant squawking, and Enji never gave him food like that again. People were staring. Instead, he just let... whatever the hell this was... happen. The imp had worn him down. It didn't bother Enji anymore, and it kept the imp happy, so he let his food get stolen and never questioned it again. From the few snippets he got about Keigo's past (because really, the other man was just as tight-lipped about his past as Enji was about his own), he knew food scarcity was a thing in Keigo's formative years, and he had developed eccentricities around food habits.
After effectively inhaling his plate of food (and part of Enji's for that matter) in five minutes while still chattering about nonsense topics (like being loved as a worm??), Keigo stretched and chirped, “Thanks for lunch, old man!” Enji grunted in response. Now for the awkward part where he just watched Enji finish his food at a more sensible pace. Today, he chose to scroll through his phone, showing Enji memes he had no context for. He could only assume they were funny with context, and this wasn't some psychological warfare plot to convince Enji to believe in unfunny jokes. Keigo wasn't that cruel. When Enji finally finished, Keigo got up and left for the car, grabbing a fortune cookie from the box near the door. He read his fortune out loud, “When the wind of change blows, some build walls, while others build windmills.”
Sighing, Enji went up to the counter to pay the bill. Manami gave a quizzical look to the man now outside, leaned forward, and whispered conspiratorially, “I thought you should know he's brought two different women here just last week.” She waited for a response, got none, and added, “I'm sorry you had to hear that.”
Enji blinked slowly, unsure how he was supposed to take the news. He knew Keigo had a steady girlfriend he was living with, god knows why he would see someone else and bring them both to the same restaurant, but Enji was learning new things against his will all the time, like the concept of open relationships; although, it wouldn't be the first time Keigo cheated on one of his girlfriends. From the other side of the window, Keigo waved at them cheerily. His amber eyes and sweet smile were a trap that lured unsuspecting women in like flies lured into a sticky amber pool before it hardened into a fossil. Many happy women were hardened after knowing Keigo months at a time. It was none of Enji's business. He desperately searched her face for the reason she would be telling him of all people. He was already well aware that Keigo's love life was not something to be envious of. He settled for a stilted, “Okay,” before handing over his credit card. Really, Enji was more impressed he had the energy for multiple dates. Enji spent most of his days off sleeping and recovering from shifts. His hours awake were reserved for his kids yelling at him. He never had the need or desire or the energy to date.
She frowned and rang up the transaction. “You deserve better.”
Oh. Well, fuck. He grabbed his card back and briskly replied, “We're not together.” He didn't wait for a response. He wanted that conversation over with, and he was leaving. But he did grab a cookie, because he knew Keigo would pester him about it.
Keigo was happy to see him leave and waited patiently for Enji to unlock the door. He made sure the shop door was closed before announcing, “Manami wants you to stop cheating on me with other women.”
Keigo stiffened as his smile dropped. “You're joking, right?”
Enji shrugged and got into the driver's seat. Instead of responding, he read his fortune, “Use the powerful tool of listening instead of speaking.”
“Enji! You're joking, right? This is one of your terrible attempts at humor?” Keigo scrambled into the car. “You at least told her we weren't dating, right?”
Enji sighed as he fished for his clipboard, already returning to work. “I did. Now, we have tickets to sell.”
As the day passed, it was very apparent that Manami's comment got to Keigo. They were nowhere close to last year's record, and his charm seemed more stilted. By three o'clock, Enji had decided to call it quits and return to the fire station. Keigo moped the whole ride back, but Enji never mentioned it.
It was... quiet in the station. Keigo hunted down the only soul, Rumi Usagiyama, young twenties, dozing on the couch in the living area, and promptly collapsed on top of her. “RUMI!” She woke up with a grunt and a mumbled threat of violence, which unfazed Keigo. Enji watched as she adjusted to the new weight instead of shoving him off. Whatever physicality of Keigo's nature confused Manami into thinking he and Enji were dating was simply Keigo being physical with anyone who would let him. Keigo and Rumi were friends.
“How's the overachievers?”
Keigo shifted on the couch and fluffed her large chest into a more comfortable position for himself. “How'd we do, Enji?” Okay, maybe they had fucked and Keigo somehow managed to end ONE relationship on good terms. Did that make three girlfriends?
Killing that thought, Enji quickly looked at his clipboard. “We are not at last year's sales mark,” Enji glared at Keigo, who rolled his eyes, “but we managed to sell 12 tickets today.”
Finally, Rumi shoved Keigo off and sat up. “Only 12?” she mocked. “God, you two are making the rest of us look bad.”
Keigo dropped his head on her shoulder and looked up at her face, batting his eyelashes. “Y'know, you, too, can sell as many tickets as us if you also posed for your calendar shot topless and then promised dances to potential ticket buyers. Long con.”
Rumi rolled her eyes and shoved him off again. “Pass. Figured it was all you carrying the weight.”
He grinned and gestured at Enji. “Enji helps. How are you going to look at that sad old man's face and deny him anything. Enji, do that sad old man look and ask her for her kidney. She won't be able to say no.”
Enji sighed. “I don't want her kidney.” He was done with this conversation. As he was turning to leave for Toshinori's office, he could hear Rumi mumble quietly, “I think you're on to something, I do feel inclined to give him my kidney.” And the two laughed.
Toshinori Yagi's door was open, and he glanced up from his desk. “What seems to be bothering you?”
Enji schooled his facial expression in and handed him all the dance paperwork from the day. “Sorry, I blinked and suddenly half our company turned into twenty something year olds.”
Toshinori, age somewhere in his late fifties, smiled warmly and stared at the picture frame of his wife and step-son. The smiling, freckled teenager in the picture had to be around Enji's youngest son's age, so around fifteen or sixteen. “Ah, yes, the inevitable passage of time. We, too, were the young ones making our senior firefighters feel old. The next generation will make them feel old, as well.” He coughed into his fist, which turned into a minute long coughing fit. “Sorry.” His health just wasn't the same after that spa supply shop fire five years ago. Enji had at max a few more years to learn from the older man before he announced a retirement, so he stayed in his office long enough to help file all the tax deductible fundraising paperwork, and other mundane business maintenance, hoping one day this would be his job.
When Enji finally reemerged into the living quarters, he found Rumi working out and Keigo fixing the “stats” board. It was a sort of friendly competition among the firefighters, keeping up with stats, like fires fought, pets saved, safety seminars given, smoke detector batteries changed or installed, fundraising money raised, etc, all meticulously kept up to date and “ranked” for the bragging rights. Overall stats put Toshinori as the number one firefighter, and Enji was ranked second, after years of clawing his way above and beyond for decades. Then this little bastard Keigo who practically lived at the station wiggled into the third highest stats in the five years he worked there, doing better than firefighters who had been with this company for a decade longer than him. There was still an enormous gap between Enji's and Keigo's numbers, but that gap was steadily shrinking. He felt old just looking at it.
Keigo didn't even acknowledge his presence, and Enji sighed. Rumi paused her rep just long enough to throw them a questioning look. This was going to be a long night.
–
They unfortunately got their excitement when a trailer park meth lab, as its neighbor's helpfully identified it, exploded at one o'clock in the morning. They got there quickly and efficiently put the flames to bed before anymore of the homes could burn down. Whatever drama they had was cast aside for absolute professionalism. It was honestly one of the only reasons he could tolerate the younger man: lives were on the line, and Keigo could always be counted on. They were a seamless team, making sure there wasn't any volatile substances airborne, and nothing else was going to explode. “Why can't meth labs explode at a more reasonable time?” Rumi grumbled, as they surveyed the damage. The home was completely gone; there was nothing to salvage for the old man and presumably homeowner they had found in the yard, trying to put out the fire with a garden hose. Luckily, it didn't seem like anyone was inside at the time, and they managed to return to the station in one piece, handing over the case to the arriving police. No one got hurt, and there was one less meth lab in town. One more tick on the stats scoreboard.
By the time they finished disposing of their contaminated equipment, there was no point in trying to go back to bed. The rest of their shift they cleaned the kitchen and washed the linens on the beds for the next shift arriving at eight. Ryuko, Yoroi, Kugo, and Susugu came in and immediately began their morning routines and safety checklists.
“Well, Old Man, guess I'll be seeing you next shift,” Keigo said, with a soft smile. When Enji grunted in response, his smile deepened. “Bye, Enji.” He waved and headed for his old sports car. Enji hid his own smile behind his hand. Thank God the melodrama was over.
The drive home was blissfully quiet in his fifteen year old minivan. His last day off he had finally fixed the rattling noise in the engine. There were no lights on at the house, no other cars outside or in the garage. None of his children were home. They were rarely home these days, anyway. Fuyumi landed a job as an elementary teacher and moved out on her own; Natsuo technically still lived at home but spent more time at a friend's apartment because “It was closer to campus,” campus being only thirty minutes away from the house; and Shoto had begged and pleaded to be enrolled in a boarding school to get out of the house. He rarely saw his children these days, and he knew he deserved it.
The Autumn bell flower shrubs that edged the concrete path to the kitchen-front door were not in bloom yet. The kitchen-front door was a failed attempt of a home project to make more room for his growing family. It made sense at the time to wall in the car port and make a garage that could be used for storage. Unfortunately, the front door was under the car port at the time and now inside the garage, so now the new front door was the kitchen door on the other side of the house. It made solicitor's jobs a little bit harder if they couldn't find their door. Visitors were not that common, especially when his children were reluctant to bring their friends over. The garage was immediately turned into a half small gym and half random assortment of shit that never got thrown away or may be important? Enji hadn't gone through it in years, though. He parked the van outside in the driveway, opened the garage door, and ignored the ever growing pile of junk mail stacked near the door as he unlocked his house.
The main room was shaped like a donut; straight from the garage door, was a little entry way that branched three ways. Going straight led to the open door frame of the kitchen/laundry room (the kitchen door to the outside directly visible from here); the kitchen curved to the dining room, which curved to the living room, which circled around back to the entry way, and past that led to the hallway of three bedrooms, two closets, and a bathroom. The Master Bedroom was the first door on the left. All his floors were tiled.
Exhaustion seized Enji as he crossed the threshold. He managed to pop a frozen meal in the microwave (after plugging it back in) and eat it before succumbing to the call of his metal-framed bed. His first day off was usually reserved for sleeping off a twenty four hour shift. Ever vigilant of fire hazards, his bed was distant enough off the wall that he could access the window behind it. His closet shared walls with the laundry alcove, and the other wall was the master bath. Everything, the black out curtains, the bed sheets, and the rug under his bed, was a polyester or fire resistant blend.
It was mid afternoon by the time he woke back up. Fuyumi had recreated the family group chat, pleading for a family dinner of some sort; the boys rejected it, said they were busy with school work, despite no date being set, and removed themselves from the chat. Enji stared at the messages before asking Fuyumi if she wanted dinner just the two of them. Immediately, she replied that she could bring something over real quick.
“Shit,” Enji muttered and scrambled to wrangle the mess of the kitchen. He usually reserved house chores to his second day off when he had more energy, but thankfully, his main diet of frozen meals kept the kitchen mess to a minimum. Once all the counters and floors were wiped and swept, he took a quick shower and tried to look at least a little presentable.
“Dad! I'm home!”
Time was up. He made his way back to the kitchen and helped unload the grocery bags, a package of steaks, potatoes, fresh string beans, a bag of salad with sunflower seeds, and two mini apple pies. “Steak, huh?” He pulled out some aluminum foil and his favorite steak seasoning from the cabinet.
Fuyumi beamed, preheating the oven. “Yeah, I've been taking cooking lessons at the community college, mostly to spy on Natsuo because he rarely talks to us anymore, but anyway, we learned a new pan seared steak recipe. I thought I could try it here.”
“Sounds good,” he replied as he began scrubbing the potatoes at the sink. “How is Natsuo?”
“Oh, you know, avoiding us like the plague. He at least says hi when he sees me on campus. I think he's hiding a girlfriend, though.”
“Oh?”
The two fell into casual small talk as they cooked the food. Enji chopped the vegetables according to Fuyumi's instructions, who was taking pride in showing her father her new recipe. Enji knew this was a pet project of hers to teach him how to cook, and he allowed it. Everything was smothered in butter; the string beans sizzled in a butter-lemon juice sauce; the potatoes were diced, smothered, and popped in the oven; even the steaks cooked in butter, with the juices carefully spooned on top to keep them from drying out.
Dinner was delicious, and Enji told her as much. Fuyumi talked about the shenanigans her third graders got up to, and Enji talked about the shenanigans that happened at work. It was nice... at least one of his kids didn't hate him. There might not be any hope for the other two, but at least he had this. She stayed a while after the dishes were cleaned but eventually had to leave, for there was school tomorrow.
His next day off he spent doing droll chores, laundry, making sure the bills were paid, grocery shopping; he spent a few hours on his work out equipment and played in the garden bed outside. It was a lovely, nice, quiet day. He ended it with a small meal, pan fried salmon filet, frozen creamed spinach, frozen dinner rolls, and what was left of the salad bag from yesterday. The day felt incredibly productive. When Shoto moved into his boarding school, the quietness took some getting used to, but now, Enji preferred it like this. After the dishes were done, Enji had the urge to check his phone, not at all believing anyone would message him, considering Fuyumi just saw him yesterday, and she was the only one who tried to keep contact with him. To his surprise, he did have a message from Keigo: Call me if you can. From four hours ago.
He replied: Do you still need me to call?
And then his phone rang immediately. “Hey Big Guy! Did I catch you at a bad time?” Keigo chirped, over-enthusiastically, almost unsettling, really. It was his “I want to ask something of you, but I'm not going to say what” voice.
Enji sighed and let the game begin. It was harder to conduct over the phone. “Hey? It's fine, I guess? I don't keep up with my phone is all.” Enji let the silence drag a little before realizing Keigo was not going to say anything else; his telepathy game was off today. He tried to listen for any background noise, but it sounded like muffled traffic. “Are you driving and talking?”
“No, I'm parked!” the over-enthusiasm had not faded.
Keigo rarely attempted communication outside work (Enji shut that down years ago), and if he did, it was never just to chat. “Is... everything alright?”
“Physically, yes.” His reply sounded strained. They were getting warmer.
Enji took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Keigo, if you don't tell me why you called, I'm going to hang up.”
“My girlfriend kicked me out.”
He took a moment to process this. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“Working on it, still got my trusty Firebird. I can sleep in here!” The over-enthusiasm had returned.
In that moment, he knew he was being manipulated into offering his couch. He stared at the offending furniture. It's just... they've only seen each other at work, and they had a tentative agreement their home lives were off limits. He could hear him squirming in his seat over the phone.
“It's okay! I can find somewhere—”
“I'm going to text you my address.”
“What?” He sounded as surprised as Enji felt that his plan worked. “Oh thank God! Thank you so much, Enji. I promise you won't regret this, I'll be as quiet as a mouse!”
Enji snorted. “I sincerely doubt that.” And he hung up. After texting his address, Enji scoured the linen closet for a set of sheets that wasn't covered in dust. Oh well. It wasn't like he was used to entertaining guests. He grabbed some sheets and tossed them into the dryer, hoping the machine would knock most of the dust off. They weren't in there long, mostly because Enji was afraid the dust might catch fire, before Enji was tossing them onto the three-seated couch. He hoped Keigo had a pillow because all he had to offer was Fuyumi's decorative throw pillows.
He didn't have much more time to look around for any hidden messes or to contemplate losing his peace and quiet for the unforeseeable future before his phone rang again.
“Where the fuck is your front door?”
“I hid it away to deter visitors, just follow the sidewalk to the kitchen door.”
“That is such a you thing to do. Can't believe the grumpy old man hates visitors. Does that make me different from all the rest?”
Enji hung up and opened the door, watching Keigo pop around the corner, who was scowling to himself. He had a duffel bag, a backpack, and a pillow. When he noticed Enji, he perked up and picked up his pace. And he kept going until he knocked his head into Enji's chest and stayed there with no signs of moving. After an awkward pause, Enji said, “I hope you don't mind sleeping on a couch.”
“It's fine. Anything's better than trying to sleep in the Firebird,” he replied, voice muffled by Enji's shirt.
When Keigo still made no signs of removing himself from Enji's chest, Enji backed up into the kitchen. Keigo almost succeeded in keeping his new spot if Enji didn't subtly knock him off when he closed the door behind them. He looked around the kitchen with wet eyes and whistled. “Stainless steel counters? You've been hiding a chef aspiration from us?” His smile was forced.
Enji looked away. “It's just easier to keep clean.” He nodded to the open door frame behind him, leading him on the small tour of the house. “The living room is around the corner, that's the front door that goes into the garage, and the bathroom is the first door on the right in the hallway, the rest of the doors are off limits.”
Keigo frowned and nodded, following behind. Those calculating eyes took in his new surroundings, and Enji suddenly felt this was a bad idea. There was always a professional boundary to their relationship; here, Keigo had a front row view to judge Enji's shitty personal life, and the thought turned his stomach. But he couldn't kick the hell-spawn out now. Keigo's eyes landed on the sliding glass door that had the black out curtains on the other side, leading to the room behind the garage. It used to be a patio before they started having more kids than they had space. Putting a small bathroom where the spigot used to be turned out to be more costly than anticipated, but worth not having the headache of watching four children fight over one bathroom.
“That's Natsuo's room. Keep out.”
Keigo stiffened. “Oh, I forgot—“
Enji cut him off. “Fuyumi moved out, and the other two are in school. They usually call before coming home anyway. It's...” not fine. “As long as you remain decent, it's fine.”
Smirking, he threw his bags on the floor, and plopped onto the couch. “Aw, but Enji, I was looking forward to sleeping in the nude tonight.”
“If you mentally scar any of my children, I will kill you with my bare hands.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Hey, thanks... for this. I know I'm asking a lot from you. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can find a new place.” He fiddled with the pile of sheets next to him.
“It's...” not fine. “I'll survive.”
There was a small smile on Keigo's face, but it was enough that Enji forgave him for his intrusion. And then, Keigo's phone rang. “Oh my God. You assholes. Thanks for finally calling me back.” It reminded Enji just how little privacy this house afforded its residents. He had been so used to having it all to himself. “No, it's fine, I have a REAL friend, who answers his phone, and got a couch for the night.” Keigo stuck his tongue out at Enji. He responded by turning to his room. “Y'all went on an adventure without inviting me? I love our adventures! What did you do tonight?”
Enji closed his door, blocking out the rest of the conversation, sealing himself away inside. He never felt the need to wander into the kitchen after bed, but now that the concept felt off limits for fear of disturbing Keigo, grated his nerves. Sighing, he took his time getting ready for bed, knowing the both of them had work in the morning but also reluctant to call off the night this early. Just how much would Keigo's presence interfere with his morning routine, anyway? Was it too late to ask him to go to one of his other friends' house now that they were talking to him again?
As he was settling into bed, there was a soft, hesitant knock on the door. Enji sighed, got back up, and was greeted with a surprising visage behind the door. “Where the fuck did your shirt go?”
Keigo rolled his eyes, mischief glittering behind his thinly veiled snort. “I didn't think you were being serious, you prude... Your TV isn't working, also is there maybe WiFi here?”
He took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Put a shirt on. Non negotiable.” He pushed past him to the living room to investigate. The one couch had the sheets “made” on it, and there was now a few random electronic devices strewn across the coffee table.
It was Keigo's turn to sigh as he exaggerated his movements of rifling through his bag and throwing a random shirt on. “I just sleep better without one, okay?” He modeled his new look for Enji. “Happy?”
“I'm never happy. You know this.” He checked behind the TV and popped the extension cord back into the wall. “It's just unplugged.”
Keigo just stared at him. “Is this like, an old person thing? Should I unplug everything when I'm done?”
Rolling his eyes he made his way to the computer desk crammed in the corner behind the two seated couch to plug the computer extension cord back in, as he rattled off the password and network information. He sat down at the computer desk as the modem booted up. “It saves on the utility bill.”
Keigo snorted as he plopped onto the couch and started channel surfing. “That is such a dad thing to say. Actually, I think one of my foster dads used that excuse to cut power to our rooms at night.” He took a sip from a soda can that was previously hidden away. It was something that Enji never got used to how he could seemingly summon things, mostly food, out of thin air and then banish it out of existence. Keigo rarely talked about his time in the foster care system, but what little picture Enji did have was not pretty. Keigo caught him staring. “Oh, sorry, I guess I didn't ask before I grabbed something, huh?”
“I don't mind.” The lie came easily this time. He would definitely have to check the couch cushions for any food squirreled away after Keigo left. There was a pregnant pause as Enji scrambled for something to say. “Are you going to be okay?” It only felt natural to ask about his well being.
There was a soft smile on Keigo's face as he took another sip. “Me and homelessness go way back. I'll survive. You know this.” Enji frowned, recalling one of Keigo's stories of when he ran away from his last foster family at sixteen. Or was he referring to the house fire when he was eight?
Watching TV was hellish with Keigo. He never stayed on any one channel, switching with no rhyme or reason and never sticking long enough to follow the plot of any given show, and it drove Enji insane. After enduring this torture for multiple channels, he ventured into conversation again, mulling the words in his head carefully. “Do you think you unintentionally sabotage the stability of your adult home life because of your unstable childhood?”
Keigo choked on his drink and glared at him. “The fuck, Enji? This isn't therapy hour.” He was fuming so hard, he forgot about his channel surfing. Unfortunately, he had stalled on a watch infomercial. Maybe Enji could egg him into switching to another channel... “She thought I was cheating on her. I didn't do shit. This isn't my fault, and that's all the dad-talk you're allowed tonight.”
Enji sighed. “I don't pry into your personal life, and even I knew there was someone else.”
He swung his arm and pointed the remote at Enji. “Watch it! You're of one the side bitches.” Enji sighed a little deeper, and Keigo parroted it back in a mocking tone. “I'm going to bed. Good night.” He turned the TV off and laid down.
Taking the hint, Enji went to bed as well. Hopefully, things would get better by the morning.