Chapter Text
August is hotter than usual. It’s the kind of heat that makes you stick to everything you touch and feel like you’re breathing through a straw. Even with the torrent of wind from his car’s air conditioner, Fuma can feel his back sticking to the leather seats. He hasn’t even had time to change out of his work clothing, having come straight from his job at the university an hour and a half away. Ideally, he would’ve ended class on time and leisurely packed up his things while chatting with students about homework or questions..
..Instead, he threw everything in his bag and rushed out after announcing that class would be dismissed ten minutes early.
The reason? Harua– well, picking him up.
Harua is Fuma’s sole reason for existing— has been since he was born a little over five years ago now. The boy was a rather unexpected addition to his and his now ex-girlfriend Sion’s relationship.. if you could call it that. They began as college friends, had a bit of a drunken mishap, and now Harua is here to stay. They have no complaints, though; they wouldn’t have it any other way.
They did try their hand at dating, but it only lasted a good five months. Harua hadn’t even been born when they broke up. There was no huge falling out, tears, or fighting when they split. It was a mutual decision made after many long discussions. Things just weren’t working, and they simply decided they were better off as friends (and that Harua would grow up better that way, too). Neither of them saw the point in making their family miserable when they could be happy another way.
Despite being exes, they still consider themselves best friends and love each other dearly.
They lived together until Harua was one, then they got separate apartments and alternated weeks. It was easy up until Sion met a woman, fell in love, moved two towns over, and eventually got married. Transporting Harua became a bit more difficult, but Fuma would do anything to keep the people he cares about happy— so he made the commute every time.
But now Harua is in kindergarten, and something had to change. He couldn’t go to two different schools, and Fuma couldn’t juggle the new schedule.
So, Fuma made some adjustments at his job. He changed his schedule so that he meets in person with all of his classes once a week and hosts online meetings during their other scheduled days. Then, he got a new apartment in a complex ten minutes away from Sion and Riku (Sion’s wife, aka one of the best women in the world).
New schedules mean new places and unfamiliar things, which is how he now finds himself outside of ‘&CARE,’ the daycare Harua has been attending for around three years, each time he was in Sion’s care.
He looks down at his phone and scrolls through the text messages he and his ex exchanged last night.
fuma, youre picking a kid up from daycare
the world is not ending!
I know that. I just want to make sure they know I’m picking him up..
There are procedures for this kind of thing.
don’t use proper texting grammar with me like i’m one of your students, it makes you sound pissed off
anyway, i promise you it’s handled!! riku went and registered you as a guardian last week because she’s an angel and a wonderful wife and step mom
Fuma sighs. He almost wants to send another text just to make extra sure it’ll be fine, but she’d probably kill him. That’s the last thing he needs after this week.
It’s been busy, and he’s starting to think that the heat is some divine power’s way of making him even more miserable. Part of him is glad he won’t have to dress up in his usual slacks, dress shirt, and sweater vest combo as often anymore, thanks to his new job.
‘New job’ isn’t exactly the correct term. It’s the same job he’s held for three years now, just in a different location.
He has taught sign language since he had his first opportunity to. His mom is deaf, and it was his normal growing up— but there were struggles, it wasn’t ‘normal’ to everyone. It was after a teacher of his insulted his mother in a backhanded manner that he knew what he wanted to do. Thus, he got his degree in sign language and deaf studies, accepted a teaching position at a high school where he taught just that.. all while pursuing higher education.
Somewhere along the way, Harua came to be. He took some leave from work, graduated, then got offered a teaching position at the same university. There was no hesitation in his response. The job paid more and would allow him a more flexible schedule, which meant more time to spend with Harua.
With his recent (as of literally today) move, his job just got a whole lot easier. Fuma isn’t sure what he’s going to do with his free time, but he’ll figure something out.
For now, he needs to pick Harua up.
He gets out of his car and locks it behind him before making his way up to the door of &CARE. No matter how much he looks at it, the name is really odd. Someday he’s going to ask why the owner chose that name, but today is all about first impressions. The most important thing is to act more put-together than he feels. His clothing might help; he can borrow some authority from his professional attire.
The glass door is covered with handprints, each with the name of a child and their age on it. It seems the daycare regularly has three infants, four kids Harua’s age, and one teenager that’s just kind of there. They probably accept one-time and infrequent children, too.
When he opens the door and steps inside, the first thing he sees is a big window. It’s probably a one-way mirror, as no one looks up when he comes in. There’s a bench to the right, a door directly in front of him that probably leads to the room he can see through the glass, and a desk blocking said door. On the desk is a button with a sign that reads:
‘ PRESS 4 ASSISTANCE ’
Assistance would be nice. Fuma pushes it gently and waits. Inside the other room, he can see Harua playing with another boy his age. He’s so caught up in watching his son that he doesn’t even notice the man who stands up and walks to the door. It opens, and out walks a tall, elegant-looking man with long hair that clings to his neck.
He’s wearing loose, beige pants and a light blue sweater with a denim apron over top. It has bubble letters in the top left corner painted in pretty purple acrylic paint, which spell ‘Kei.’ Honestly, he’s gorgeous. His facial features make him look like a baby cow, and it’s only enhanced by the infant in his arms.
“Well, you’re a new face! How can I help you?” The man (Kei?) chirps, unfazed by the slobbery little fingers touching his cheek.
Fuma misses when Harua was that little. “Hey, uh, yeah— I’m here to pick up my son, Harua,” he explains.
The man’s face drops. He pulls out a binder with one hand and flips through it before raising an eyebrow. “And you are?”
“Fuma,” he answers instantly. “Murata,” he adds a few seconds later. “Do you need my ID?”
The small child in his arms babbles, as if to respond. “Yes, please,” he confirms and grabs the card when Fuma holds it out. “You’re not on the list, so I can’t check him out for you,” his face is flat. He looks rather suspicious. “You said you’re his parent?” He asks again.
He nods. “Yeah, I’m his dad.”
“Nice try, but his dad doesn’t live here. So, I’m either gonna need you to leave, or I’m going to call his moms.” He’s holding a little tighter to the baby, like Fuma’s going to snatch it when he gets the chance.
So much for first impressions. The man thinks he’s some kind of kid snatcher.
He puts his hands up and gives a small smile. “Please, do what you need to do. I understand regulations. I used to work with kids,” he offers while walking off to the side. High schoolers count as kids, right?
His words seem to only make matters worse. ‘Kei’ gives a small hop to secure the child he’s holding before picking up the phone to his right and punching in numbers like they offended him.
Fuma is praying in his head more than he’s ever prayed in his life. Sion honestly might let it go to voicemail just to spite him.
“They didn’t answer, sit on that bench and wait,” he commands. Then, he pokes his head into the other room and mumbles something he can’t hear.
He obliges. Shit, he’s scared the cops will get called if he doesn’t.
As if the situation couldn’t get more complicated, the main door opens once again, and in walks a man no older than twenty-two. He has strikingly sharp features— like an angry black cat with airplane ears. His aura doesn’t match his appearance. Actually, Fuma is pretty certain the room gets a little brighter when he enters.
He looks over at Fuma, and his lips curl in on themselves. It’s obvious he’s holding back laughter.
There’s no chance to question the look, as ‘Kei’s voice fills the room again. He’s speaking over his shoulder, sensing that someone has come into the daycare. “Hao, you know I love you, but there are only so many times I can stop six-year-olds from jumping on your baby—“ he turns around and pauses after seeing who it is. “Oh, it's you.”
“Wow, rude,” the man huffs and crosses his arms. “To a loyal customer, at that!”
“Your parents are the loyal customers, not you,” ‘Kei’ refutes, sliding a clipboard his way to be filled out. “The kids may not pick up on it, but I know you only come here to eye f-u-c-k my employee, Nico,” he whispers the last bit to avoid tainting the infant's ears.
The other’s face goes bright red, and he shoots ‘Kei’ a glare. “We’re not the only ones in here, you ass!” He squawks, pointing back at Fuma with one hand.
A shrug. “He’s a kidnapper. We don’t care about his opinion. Also, I’ll kill you if you curse in this building again.”
“What?” Fuma interjects, but is ignored.
“Whatever, what’s up with the baby? I thought babies had to be picked up by 2:30,” Nico (?) points out.
‘Kei’ turns to the door again and shouts inside. “Juju, bring out Maki, please!” Back to Nico. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Get yourself together, wouldn’t want your Juju to think you’re a loser.”
A few moments pass, then a tall man around Nico’s age comes out. The paint on his apron is orange, and it says ‘EJ.’ Their looks are vastly different. This one is rounder than any human Fuma’s ever seen. Everything about him looks marshmallow-y, like he belongs between two graham crackers and some chocolate. Just looking at him makes Fuma’s teeth ache.
Nico goes fidgety as soon as he steps out from behind the desk, almost completely ignoring the small boy around Harua’s age (Maki, he assumes. Harua talks about him all the time) clinging to his leg. He’s seen this exact situation unfold many times in his classrooms. This is what a crush looks like.
“Oh, Nico!” ‘EJ’ grins with upturned mouth corners. “You don’t usually pick Maki up on Fridays!” He comments, eyes fixed fondly on the boy snuggling into Nico’s side.
Fuma takes note of his accent. He must not be from here.
The shorter laughs nervously, his hand reaching down to pat Maki’s back. “Class got canceled, so I thought I’d pick him up.. give my moms a break.”
“You’re so sweet,” ‘EJ’ coos and laces his fingers behind his back. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?” He blinks a few times, completely oblivious to the red tint all over the other’s body.
Maki makes a concerned face and pulls back. “Nico, you’re too warm..” he whines.
“Sorry, Maki,” he mumbles, lifting the child into his arms. “Yeah, uhm, Monday, for sure!”
’EJ’ waves, says goodbye, and blows Maki a kiss before disappearing through the door. At this, Nico instantly relaxes and lets out a huge sigh. The room goes quiet. Fuma glances at ‘Kei,’ who is staring at the other, dumbfounded. Even the baby has stopped its baby things to stare.
Awkward. It almost makes Fuma feel bad for the guy. That was borderline painful to watch. “And you won’t just ask him out because..?” He speaks up. This earns him a glare.
“You’re on the kidnapper bench, you don’t get a say, old man!”
“No, no, he’s got a point, Nico,” he uses the infant's bib to wipe the drool off his chin. “You do need to grow a pair,” a shrug as he removes the paper from the clipboard and slides it into a tray.
An offended noise leaves the man’s lips. “I thought you said we didn’t care about his opinion!”
“I wasn’t expecting him to have a good one! Now, would you get on so I can run my business?”
He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he turns on his heel and trots out the door, his attention focused on Maki.
…
It feels like forever before the phone finally rings and frees Fuma from whatever mental torture ‘Kei’ is putting him through by making him sit on the aptly titled ‘kidnapper bench.’ He gets why he does it, and commends him for his efforts, honestly. There’s a lot that goes into childcare, and because this establishment seems to be entirely his idea and responsibility, he can’t blame him for taking all the precautions he does. Fuma has been sitting here for thirty minutes maximum, but has picked up on a lot of the rules in place just from watching.
First: Only ‘Kei’ is allowed to check kids in and out. His other employees look a fair bit younger than he does, so it makes sense. He’d estimate ‘Kei’ to be about his age (twenty-nine), give or take a year or two. ‘EJ’ can’t be older than twenty-two. The last employee seems even younger than that, perhaps in his teens? He’s only caught a glimpse of him through the window into the actual daycare. It’s a pretty low-key establishment, with not many workers.
Second: Children younger than four must be picked up before two-thirty. He’s not sure why this is a rule, but his best guess is that the older kids need to be picked up or welcomed back from school. Sion had told him about this daycare when she first picked it out for Harua, and she was pretty excited about it. Apparently, it doubles as an after-school program of sorts for all school-aged children who attend. They help with homework and build upon learning done in school. It makes sense why it’s so small– only so many children can be taught at once.
Third: Every pick up needs a paper record. Fuma noticed this first with Nico, when he signed a sheet to take Maki home. It seems the daycare keeps a detailed record of every pick up and drop off for good measure. They probably have a strict pick-up policy, too. If you’re not on the list signed off by a parent/guardian, you’re not taking the kid home. Hence, why he’s sitting on the bench. Despite Riku registering him, he, for some reason, isn’t on the list.
That’s why the sound of the phone ringing floods Fuma with relief. He’s been saved!
‘Kei’ makes his way back into the lobby, no infant this time (he was picked up shortly after Nico left, which is how Fuma learned about rule two). He doesn’t spare a single glance before picking up the phone and holding it to his ear.
“Thank you for calling &CARE, Yudai Koga speaking,” he begins politely.
So, his name is Yudai. ‘Kei’ is just a teacher title, of sorts.
His ears go red as he bends down and pulls out a folder, sifting through the papers inside. “You’re certain Riku registered him?”
Thank god, it really is Sion. Better late than never, he supposes.
A heaving sigh leaves his lips. It literally deflates his body; he wilts in defeat. “Are you two together? Can you put Riku on the phone?” He pauses, no doubt waiting for the phone to change hands. “Hey, Riku,” he chirps, “When you registered Harua’s dad, did you talk to Euijoo or Taki?”
Another long pause, accentuated by Yudai’s small nods and ‘mhm’s.
“Okay, got it. Sorry about all of this. I’ll get him registered right now.” He laughs softly, “‘Kay, talk to you later, bye!”
Fuma stands up and makes his way to the desk, rolling his sleeves up in the process. He doesn’t need to be told to do so. Years of teaching have given him a sixth sense for knowing when he’s needed somewhere. “Alright, what do you need from me?” He asks and opens his bag slightly, just in case he needs to dig anything out.
“God, I’m so sorry about all of this,” he groans, tucking a strand of brown hair behind his ear. His hand slides a paper across the desk, which has some policies and rules to be read before signing and dating at the bottom. “One of my employees is only seventeen; he must have set the paper in the wrong place, and it likely got thrown away by.. Me, the next morning.”
He laughs and elegantly places his signature at the bottom of the page (he has some practice). “Don’t be sorry, I get it! If anything, I’m glad you didn’t let my son get kidnapped,” he jokes as he passes the paper back. “But, is the public humiliation bench necessary?” He can’t resist asking.
Yudai snorts and shakes his head. “We don’t get a lot of people up to no good, but once, when we first opened, a child’s father tried to come and pick them up. He wasn’t on the list, and it turns out the mother didn’t want him on the list. I told him to sit and wait while I called the mother, and he gave up rather quickly. It’s just a good way to de-escalate a difficult situation.” He shrugs.
The paper goes into the folder, which he can now see has Harua’s name written on it with the year. The folder makes its way into a filing cabinet below Yudai titled ‘Pick-Up.’ Fuma can tell this place is run like the military, and he doesn’t doubt that whoever filed the paper wrong is in for a scolding. “Very effective, I can admit that. I’ve never had to experience horrors like that in my line of work, but I know how protocols and such can be. Thanks for taking it all so seriously.”
Once he’s finished speaking, Yudai turns to call into the daycare room once again. “Taki, get Harua around and ready to go! Bring him out when you’re done!” He turns back instantly, like their conversation was never interrupted. “Really? What do you do? Sounds like a dream.” He jokes.
“I teach sign language and deaf studies at YX University, but I used to teach high school.”
“YX University? Isn’t that kind of far?”
He nods and sighs. “Yep. It worked just fine when Harua was young, but now that he’s in Kindergarten, I decided to move here. I do half in-person, half online. Still a commute, but I don’t mind.”
“Dedicated. I like that.”
He swallows. Surely, he’s reading that wrong. “Is there any other way to be when you have kids?” he offers, though rhetorically. “What about you? You’re quite young, but running your own daycare-slash-after-school-program,” He attempts to change the subject somewhat.
“If we can call thirty young, sure. I–”
“Papa!” A tiny, but mighty voice calls out right as the door to the daycare opens.
Instantly, Fuma drops to his knees and opens his arms, the previous conversation left in the dust. “Rua!” He responds, letting out an overdramatic ‘oof’ when the boy jumps into his arms.
“Mama didn’t tell me you were picking me up today!” He comments and grips onto him for dear life. “Neither did Mom!” The excitement of it all seems to have overloaded his senses, as his body tenses and gets hot.
Both of which are telltale signs that Harua is about to cry. “What a big surprise! Are you happy, or..?”
He hides his face in his dad’s neck. “I’m happy, but also..”
“A little too surprised?” The boy nods. “Okay, I’ll make sure we don’t surprise you like that again!” He promises and presses a kiss to the side of his face he can reach, lifting him up into the air as he does so. “Well, thank you for your help…?” He looks at Yudai. No harm in officially learning his name.
A huge smile falls off Yudai’s face, like he got caught being too soft. “Yudai, but the kids call me Teacher Kei,” he explains, then gesturing to the teenager next to him. “This here is Riki, but everyone, including the kids, just calls him Taki. He’s my little brother, and the pain in my behind that apparently can’t file papers correctly.”
Taki looks somewhat offended. “What did I–”
“Later,” Yudai interrupts. “Fuma, right? Sorry about all the confusion, and congrats on the move! I’ll see you next time. Bye, my bunny!” He waves when he says the last part, his voice childish.
It takes Harua’s response for him to realize the bunny nickname was not intended for him. “Bye bye, Teacher Kei! Bye, bye Taki! Can we save my coloring page for next time?” He asks.
The teenager nods. “Yeah, I’ll go set it aside right now! Bye, Haru!” And with that, he disappears.
As they leave the building, Harua continues to wave until he can’t see his teacher anymore, and then returns to clinging to Fuma like a koala.
––––––––––––
The drive is a familiar route; he’s made his way to Sion and Riku’s apartment more times than he can count. Ideally, he’d be heading to his place instead.
Fuma does, in fact, have his own apartment here now. He toured it multiple times, signed the lease, paid the deposit, and everything. He’d love to live there right about now, but unfortunately, the movers were delayed, and won’t arrive with his things until tomorrow. He’ll treat this as a blessing in disguise. Even if they did come today, he’d still have to unpack enough stuff for Harua to live and wait while they assemble his bed. Fuma doesn’t mind sleeping on the floor, but he refuses to make Harua endure that.
That being said, he’ll be staying with the wives for the time being. He’ll greet the movers tomorrow and spend the rest of his weekend trying to feel normal again in a new apartment. Fuma loves Sion and Riku, though, so staying with them won’t be a challenge. They’re both welcoming people by nature.. One more so than the other.
So, when he and Harua arrive at the apartment, park the car, walk up the stairs (because Harua insisted the elevator had a ‘bad feeling’ today), and knock on the door to unit 228, it isn’t much of a surprise that the door flies right open.
The woman standing on the other side has big, wide eyes and a smile that infects faster than any disease Fuma knows. She’s got long, brown hair with a slight curl, but it’s pulled back into a lazy ponytail– likely because she’s been doing something that requires an apron, hence the one she’s wearing. “Is that my Harua?!” she squeals, bending down as far as she can to give the boy a hug.
“Mom!” He giggles and returns her hug with a somewhat awkward quality. The awkwardness isn’t caused by any negative feelings he has toward her. Rather, it’s like he’s trying to be careful.
“Welcome home, baby!” She coos. “Why don’t you go on inside and find your mama so your dad can set his stuff down?” Her suggestion is more of a command. Luckily, Harua seems to already be bored with the situation at hand, so he goes without protest. “Fuma, it’s so good to see you!”
He laughs and gives her a one-armed hug to avoid smacking her with his large duffel bag full of his necessities for the weekend. “Riku, you saw me on Sunday evening.. it hasn’t even been a week.” Fuma’s tone is teasing, but also telling of how happy he is to see her, too.
“Oh, so now I can’t be excited to see you? Is it because I’m pregnant?”
Fuma raises an eyebrow. She’s pulled this joke at least five times a month for the four months she’s been pregnant.
“God, you’re no fun to tease,” she scowls and opens the door wide enough for him to squeeze inside. “Come in, make yourself at home! Dinner is almost ready.”
He does as he’s told and closes the door behind himself. His duffel bag and shoes find their way into the entryway storage compartment to be dealt with later. “You didn’t have to do that,” he assures her.
A startlingly loud laugh leaves her mouth. “Well, I have three kids to feed, even without your grown ass staying with us. I kinda did.”
Fair. He walked right into that one, but at least he’s not alone. Sion caught a stray in that interaction, too.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, as always.” Their house is what Fuma likes to call ‘fashionably messy.’ Anyone can tell it’s lived in, and that its owners are busy, but not unclean. “How’s the baby doing?”
“Wonderful!” Riku sighs dreamily from the kitchen. She’s checking a soup pot and stirring it. “We get to find out what we’re having in four weeks!” There’s a content twinkle in her eye, like the thought alone could bring her to tears.
And Fuma is so happy for them in this moment. He’s excited like it’s his own baby, but he supposes it isn’t far off. Just like Riku loves Harua like he’s her own, he’ll love their child, Harua’s little brother or sister, like his own– unconditionally. That’s how their family has always operated. It really does take a village; blood relation is meaningless.
He remembers when he and Sion found out they were having a child. It was the most nerve-racking moment of his life, and Sion’s, too. They both sat on the bathroom floor of Fuma’s studio apartment with three pregnancy tests (Sion made Fuma take one, too, just because) out of sight and out of mind on the counter above them. Both of them are the type to go with the flow; they have the “whatever happens, happens” mindset. This was the only time Fuma felt that mindset was truly challenged.
A baby is much more than adding olive oil instead of vegetable oil to a cheap brownie mix. It’s impossible to just go with the flow when you’re faced with the concept of bringing another human into the world at twenty-three. So, they agreed through silent hand squeezes that, instead of “whatever happens, happens,” they’d shift their thinking to “whatever happens, happens together.” That, Fuma believes, has made all the difference.
When they stared at the two positive pregnancy tests, there was no dread, excitement, or anger. It just was. Sion made an off-handed joke, thanking god that at least Fuma wasn’t pregnant, too. They laughed, and then advanced through everyday doing what was best for them and their growing family– because that’s what they are now: Family. Forever and always.
That means, much to Fuma’s ‘dismay,’ that he has to put up with Sion’s antics for the rest of his life.
“You know that you’re organizing the gender reveal party, right?” Sion chimes in as she walks into the kitchen, holding Harua upside-down for a reason unknown. The boy is giggling, though, so at least all is well there.
Fuma sputters out a poorly contained laugh. “You think gender reveals are tacky, pointless, and old-fashioned.”
“And that they perpetuate harmful gender stereotypes!” Riku sings.
“What she said,” he gestures to her, helping Harua down from his mother’s arms gently. “You’ve gotten worse at messing with me, I think,” he jabs.
Sion scoffs. “Bet that’s not what you were thinking when I ignored Yudai’s call.”
“So that was on purpose!”
Her wife lets out a horrified gasp. “Baby, you didn’t !”
“I did,” she huffs proudly. “Besides the point, you’re right. No way in hell are we having one of those cotton candy nightmare parties! Didn’t have one for Harua, not having one for this baby.”
Harua stops hanging off Fuma’s arms like a monkey. “You didn’t have a party when I was a baby?” He pouts.
Every adult in the room gives each other a look that says “now you’ve done it” as they try to figure out how to prevent tears. To no one’s surprise, Riku is the first one to attempt a solution.
“They had a party, baby, but it was different,” she explains and sets down the wooden spoon she’s using. “It was a party where people bought you lots of gifts before you were even born!”
This information makes his entire face light up. “Did you go, Mom?!” He asks frantically.
Riku goes pale. Her strategy backfired.
Sensing another potential meltdown, Fuma picks Harua up and tosses him over his shoulder. “Okay! That’s enough of that!” He pats his back. “Let’s go do our homework until dinner’s done.”
“Mama and I already did my reading while you were talking with Mom!” The boy argues, kicking his legs in protest.
“What about your daily sign language lesson?”
He goes silent and stops kicking.
…
Dinner got done not long into his and Harua’s sign language session.
His original plan had been to finish up after everyone had eaten, but he didn’t follow through. Harua wanted to play by himself instead, and he’s a good kid, so Fuma didn’t protest. Not that he would’ve refused otherwise. The boy got all his homework done, cleaned his room (with Sion’s help), and even did dishes with Riku to get an extra cookie for dessert! He’s more than earned his fun.
He’s been in his room playing for around thirty minutes at this point, while Fuma, Sion, and Riku sit and chat in the living room. The sickeningly sweet couple is sitting on the loveseat with their legs and hands all tangled together while a dramatic show about ghosts, demons, and paranormal shit plays in the background. None of them is really paying attention. He’s grading homework, and the other two are playing sudoku on one of their phones.
It’s oddly domestic in a way that has Fuma thanking his lucky stars. Not everyone can say that they are raising a beautiful, intelligent child with their best friend and an equally wonderful woman. Their circumstance is one that’s often looked down upon, like it’s broken. The idea of two people, still in school and not dating, having a child together, trying to date, but breaking up shortly after, doesn’t usually sit well with most.
Hell, he’s pretty sure he’s studied it in textbooks before. Single parents, children of divorce, shared custody.. They’re all in there to warn whoever reads them of the consequences. He’s not sure he’s seen a section on the mother of a child realizing she’s a lesbian. It definitely happens, though, he’s living proof of that. He should write his own memoir or something about his life– someone would surely be entertained.
“Harua’s been eerily quiet,” Sion comments as she looks over her shoulder at Fuma.
She’s right. He pushes his glasses up and slides the laptop off his lap. “Place your bets,” he announces.
“Asleep,” Riku hums.
Sion thinks for a moment. “Eating the hidden snacks in his room again.”
Both very good guesses. Harua has been known to do both of these things. The hiding food thing baffles him because they’ve made it a point to teach Harua that he has free will and can eat whenever he wants. He and Sion never saw the point in making kids wait to eat.
If they’re hungry— feed them.
They still find snacks (that are bought specifically for Harua) in his toy bins more often than not. It doesn’t matter what house he’s at! Snacks.. Hidden like they raised a squirrel. His favorite text messages in their group chat are the captionless photos of numerous snacks in some unconventional place.
His original plan is to give Harua’s door a few knocks, but he doesn’t have to. It’s already open. Inside, he can see Harua lying on his stomach, on the floor, with his cheek resting on top of some fake money. He’s passed out, to no one’s surprise.
Fuma covers his mouth with the tips of his fingers. The biggest challenge he’s faced as a parent is not laughing when he really wants to laugh. Sometimes, Harua throwing a fit or freaking out because he thought a chocolate chip was a bug is funny . He manages to hold it together long enough to pick him up and carry him to his bed.
He peels a fake coin and bill off the boy’s face, lips quivering at the indent they make. When he sees another coin stuck to his chin, he snorts, which causes the one thing he didn’t want.
Harua stirs. His eyes blink open, and he pouts. A small whine leaves his mouth, but Fuma shakes his head and puts a finger to his lips.
You can go back to sleep . He signs, hands moving clearly and precisely. Harua has been learning sign language since he was a baby, so he could probably catch the meaning no matter how fast he signs it. Regardless, Fuma wants to be as easy as possible on his sleepy brain– it’s for the better if he goes to bed early tonight because tomorrow will be spent moving.
The five-year-old heaves a sigh and rubs his face into his pillow before freeing his trapped hands from under his body. Will you sleep in my bed with me ?
His heart gives a deadly squeeze. Your bed is too small, silly! He scrunches up his face for added emotion. I’ll be sleeping on the couch. Is that okay? There’s still a lot of grading to be done before he goes to bed; he’d only keep Harua up.
Fine . The sign isn’t made with attitude. It’s a simple response, but Fuma can tell his son is sulking.
He leans in and presses a firm kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, kiddo. I love you,” he whispers. Then, he kisses his left cheek. “That one’s from Riku,” another to his right cheek, “and that’s from Mama!”
“Night night,” Harua responds while turning over and burying himself in his mountain of blankets, stuffed animals, and pillows.
On his way out, he reaches down to flip the switch on the pink bunny nightlight in the wall. It casts a calming pink glow that Harua has loved since he was a baby. The nightlight broke once when he was two, and he had an absolute freak-out. Sion and Fuma felt like secret agents sent on a suicide mission trying to replace it without him noticing.
Hitting the light switch is the last thing he does before closing the door slightly (Harua hates feeling trapped, and Riku loves to peek inside his room when she goes to bed). When he arrives back in the living room, the two women on the loveseat gaze at him expectantly. He doesn’t want to know what kind of stakes they placed on their little bet about who was correct.
He summons all the nonchalance he can as he sits and pulls his laptop back into his lap. “Riku wins; he was asleep.”
“You’re just lying to piss me off!” Sion accuses.
“I never lie,” he lies swiftly.
Riku squeaks out a high-pitched laugh. “I don’t think Haru would agree! What was it you convinced him last week?”
It takes Fuma a moment to get what she means. “Oh, about vampire turkeys? That wasn’t a lie, I saw one back in grad school. Funny enough, it looked a little like Sion,” he states with a scarily casual tone.
“If you lie to my wife again, I’ll kill you for real.”
“Sounds like something a vampire turkey would say.”
And Riku is grabbing her stomach. There are tears in her eyes as she tosses her head back and cackles. The sound is contagious, and Fuma finds himself unable to keep a straight face any longer. Before they can stop it, they all dissolve into laughter. Grading homework has long been forgotten, as well as the bet from earlier.
How could anything else matter except this moment? It would be a crime to push down the joy now infecting their hearts.
This apartment is only built for two people– two individuals meant to have their own spaces. Now , there are four people within its walls, yet not a single one finds it stuffy or crowded. It might be because they love each other, sure, but Fuma believes it’s because they aren’t four distinct entities.
They’re one whole: A family. Everyone has their part, but no part could exist without the other.
A completed puzzle takes up more space than the scattered pieces in a pile– but it’s more satisfying to look at, right?
That’s how he views his family. Harua, Sion, Riku.. they’re everything. There’s not a universe in existence where he feels burdened by or, god forbid, ashamed by any of them.
Textbook families are so overrated.
So, when Fuma wakes up nine hours from now to find Harua curled up on top of him, sound asleep, while Sion and Riku gather their things and head to their bakery for work, he can’t feel anything other than bliss.