Chapter Text
Megumi chews on the nail of his thumb. Teeth nibbling on the rough exterior, creating more jagged edges and shaved layers until Tsumiki sees him from the corner of her eye and tugs his wrist from his mouth.
"That's not good for you, Megumi," she scolds with a frown on her face, always trying to put on the gait of a mother to fill a gaping hole Megumi long taped over.
He scrunches his brows, just a few centimeters, the right degree that looks like annoyance rather than anger because he could never really be mad at her.
"Why?" He questions. It's his fingernail.
"Because! You could get sick—and mom used to tell me you'd grow a foot in your stomach," Tsumiki huffs, hand on her hip like a prosecutor in court while Megumi sighs from the table of the guilty.
"You really believe that?"
Tsumiki's always been the believer of the two, though. The hopeful one. A star wisher. Megumi's not like that.
"Well... you'll still get sick!" She holds her disposition, despite the revelation of a silly white lie, Tsumiki still makes a front to act like the helpful big sister who's just looking out for you, Megumi. We... only have each other–
Megumi wipes his spit on his shirt and turns back to the grainy screen of a boring romcom on a barely functioning TV box that Tsumiki put on.
"Whatever," he grumbles.
"I care about you, Megumi," she deflates softly, squeezing his arm before returning her attention to the actors on screen.
"I... I can't bear to lose you, Kimo," the female lead sobs into the long winter coat of a man outside a train station on a snowy winter night. "I care about you so much.... I love you."
The man drops his suitcase and throws his scarf over the woman's neck, cupping her face and tilting her chin. He wipes away her icy tears and closes the distance between their mouths.
Megumi frowns.
"I'll never leave you," the man promises against her lipstick. "I love you, too."
Tsumiki squeals, kicking her feet at the final confession with jewels for eyes and teetering on the edge of her seat. She claps along with the invisible audience.
Megumi can't fight the eyeroll that spins his vision. He never understood why Tsumiki liked such corny movies.
"Don't you see how gentle he looks at her? How he wraps his arm around her to keep her warm?" Tsumiki boasts, rattling Megumi's shoulder, eyes never leaving the screen. "How romantic! Oh, I can't wait for someone to hold me like that."
Megumi cocks his head with a scowl. All he sees is a mess of snot and tears, a lady who's far under dressed for the given weather, and a gross tangling of tongues he's positive isn't exactly appropriate for their age.
Megumi's never been that good with emotions or feelings in general, regardless of if it's his own or someone else's.
Why cry over sad movies? They're just movies. Jumping for joy after winning a competition? It's already over. Yelling at the TV when the team lost the game? How is that going to change the outcome?
He'd rather save his energy for something else and not deal with them at all.
'Unconditional' is a prominent defining factor of love, Megumi learns. 'Unconditional' meaning non-transactional, meaning without debt or karma, meaning 'I'll be here for you regardless'.
His father seemed to have missed that memo.
He didn't understand familial love until his dad married Tsumiki's mother and roped them into his messed up antics, the ins and outs of instability and betting on the wrong horse every time.
Bound by family, circumstance, a series of unfortunate events, a desperate grasp at normalcy—Megumi almost felt guilty.
But Tsumiki grew attached and by default, Megumi supposes he did too.
"Don't worry, Megumi, I'll always be here. We'll keep each other safe and figure it out together," Tsumiki whispers with dewey lashes as lightning cracks and thunder roars and turns their cramped living room into a low budget horror movie set. Shadows claw at the edges of their blanket fort and the mini flashlight in between them keeps flickering to aid in the twisted charade.
When Megumi tilts his head and watches the quiver of her lip, he knows those words are more for her own comfort than his, but he doesn't understand why she continues to weep.
Tears won't stop the storm. Or make your father come back. Or give you a home that doesn't leak. Or answer the questions you sent to the clouds, begging for a reason, a why.
What's the point in wasting the extra energy?
He long grew accustomed to the lifestyle of hiding beneath blankets and plugging his ears while thunder echoes in the hollows of home. Even when the rumble of gray still rattles his bones and the lightning zaps his nervous system, and the pounding of the rain always drowns out his pleas, Megumi's cheeks remain dry.
It's not to say he doesn't experience bouts of fear. Ths monsters that roam the streets, some as small as stray cats and others as big as bears, still make the hairs on his neck stand straight and he walks just a little bit faster.
But Tsumiki is not Megumi and Tsumiki doesn't see the monsters he does, so she worries about her own and Megumi doesn't blame her for it.
"Promise," Tsumiki wipes the snot from her nose. Not a question, but a declaration, as she holds out her pinky. A gesture Megumi's only seen in tv shows, but he thinks he understands what to do.
He hooks his pinky around hers and nods, and through the sky's deafening tambourine and harsh winds that their rickety apartment can't combat, her fingers are warm against his.
"Okay."
Tsumiki sniffles, squeezing tighter as more tears fall. "They'll come back, right? Our parents? Because they love us?"
Megumi doesn't know what to say, so he keeps his mouth shut.
Perhaps it's not the misunderstanding of feelings in the first place, but the intensity at which people feel and express it. Maybe that was another thing his father took with him when he left.
The absence of their parents only strengthened their bond. Megumi supposes that's one thing he could write down on his gratitude list in class.
Yes, Megumi would say he loves his sister unconditionally in the same way he loves his favorite book, torn at the corners, yellowed pages, and a broken spine that he takes extra measure to ensure it remains put together safely on his book shelf. The way Tsumiki gently lays her stuffed animals in the washing machine and sets it to 'delicate' and kisses their foreheads after tumbling through a dryer that scores a seven on the Richter scale.
But when he looks at two strangers on the old tv, blurry faced and pixelated beyond proper recognition, bumping shoulders in the hallway until one of them spills their books and they both bend down to reach for the same cover and for some reason that sparks a love confession when their eyes meet—
Megumi doesn't get it.
How do two strangers decide to stay together under the guise of 'love' when his father and Tsumiki's mother couldn't even do that for their own children? Eachother? He doesn't recall the last time he saw those two in the same room at the same time.
"What does it mean to be in love?" He asks out of the blue on a random evening when Tsumiki turns on another romcom to torture him with. He contemplates coming up with a weekly genre limit.
His step sister all but jumps from her seat, bouncing on the squeaky springs of the couch as she radiates rainbows and blinds his peripherals.
"Oh, Megumi! It's wonderful! It's like... coming home to a warm blanket on a cold day. Safe and cozy and comfortable—but in someone else's arms! Always having them by your side, taking care of each other no matter what, and," she blushes with dreams behind her eyes, covering her mouth with a giggle, "kissing!"
'No matter what'. Is that even possible? A feeling that lasts forever?
"Is kissing really that important?" Megumi frowns. Aside from that, he and Tsumiki already take care of eachother. He wrinkles his nose in disgust and grumbles, "I'd rather just have the blanket."
Tsumiki sighs dramatically as her limbs flop to her side, exasperation painted on top.
"You just don't get it, Megumi! It's not just kissing! It's the passion! The heat of the moment! The butterflies in your stomach every time you lock eyes! The fast pounding of your heart!" She waves her arms, throwing her words around and hoping Megumi's hook will catch at least one.
He remains stubbornly impassive. "Sounds like a heart attack."
Tsumiki laughs. "Kind of! Love isn't easy." Her lips flatline as she stares down at her thumbs that twiddle in her lap, weaving all her unspoken words into a blanket for the ghosts.
Megumi already knows she's thinking about their parents. When was the last time he saw his father's face? He could even be the actor on the show for all Megumi could distinguish, or care.
"You'll understand when you're older," she smiles softly, looking at Megumi like it's a rite of passage he'll grow into.
But 'older' is too vague. How much older? Tsumiki isn't that far ahead of him in years.
Megumi frowns, still clueless to the abstract concept, but he gives up for now. Maybe he just doesn't experience such a thing.
Or maybe the better question is "What's the point?"
He gets familial love. He doesn't get romantic love.