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Yuma isn’t left home alone often. Ever since moving back in with his Father he found himself always accompanied by the man. It was a contrast compared to the two years he spent living alone, and he can’t say he’s not a little happy to not be alone all the time anymore. It’s not that he can’t bear the solitude, but if he could avoid it he would. He found it more comfortable that way.
Which is why when his Father told him he’d be away for a day or two he decided it would be nice to invite some company over.
Kao And Shun arrived in the second half of the day, giving him sufficient time to tidy up and buy ingredients for dinner, so when they did come he was happy to be well prepared. It was a normal evening, nothing about it stood out in comparison to the countless hours the three of them spent by each other’s side. Still Yuma finds himself entranced by the comforting buzz of their voices. They do all the things they usually do: game, bicker, laugh and cook (or Kao and Shun chatting away as he works). He feels lighter, which is strange because he hasn’t been feeling all that worn down earlier.
When playing games, he quietly leans in into Shun, not quite making contact but just enough for him to feel a ghost of the other’s body on his own, and closes his eyes. His character is long dead and Shun and Kao are so caught up in making theirs survive that they don’t notice that he started to drift off, or maybe they did, which would explain his head migrating fully to Shun’s shoulder. He wakes up when the match is over, and by frames of his friends he can clearly tell who won, laughing feels easier after that. The hours stretch in a satisfying thread, and when the clock strikes 11 in the evening he heads out with an intention to find spare futons for the pair. That’s when a hand lands on his shoulder, comfortably grounding.
Kao looks him over, and to the naked eye nothing would seem off, but Yuma sees the slight pinch in his eyes and the purse of his lips.
“I’m sorry Yuma-kun, I don’t think I can stay tonight.”
Oh. Why didn’t he ask them before deciding for himself? His mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that they were coming in with an intention to stay, and as always his body failed to catch up and let them know of his desires. He feels stupid and immature, but a sagging sadness settles in his stomach.
“That’s okay, sorry for not asking.”
He says, hoping that his face didn’t betray his disappointment. He looks at Shun then, and if he managed to hide his disappointment earlier he’s sure the younger can read the hope in his eyes as if it’s written on his forehead. Which makes it all the more embarrassing when Shun’s face twists into multiple shades of guilt, anxiety and awkwardness.
“I’m sorry Yuma-kun.”
He mirrors Kao’s worlds, but the way he says it makes it sound like it was a different language. Now Yuma himself felt a pang of guilt for creating such a situation.
“It’s fine, it's fine.”
He tries, as naturally as he can.
“I was too caught up in everything, it’s my bad.”
He feels strangely proud of himself at being able to deliver the words well, if the younger pair’s reactions are anything to go by. Their shoulders sink in relief together, and the three laugh over the silly situation.
“Let me walk you to the station then.”
Is the last thing he says before hurrying to put the futons to their designated places and change back into his street wear.
The walk is filled with that same airy feel that he experienced back at home. And he is able to relax again, forgetting his screw up earlier. It really shouldn’t be such a bother, but something about staying alone makes him uneasy. He guesses he’s just thrown off since he initially assumed the two would stay, and he really hopes that’s the case. Deep down he knows he will find out the real reason to be much uglier, but he doesn’t think of it now.
The walk feels too short in comparison to the way time has flown so wonderfully throughout the day. It’s as if the world itself is rushing his friends to board that train and hurry off to their houses, where they’d fall asleep soundly and wake up the next morning with a purpose and a ride to the rink. And he would wake up and think about all the things he’s done and didn’t do. He walks them as far as he can, and when it’s time to say goodbye he gives them a soft smile.
“Visit me more alright?”
It’s Kao who picks up on the mood first, and in his Kao-fashion rushes to elevate it.
“You should be the one visiting us, you’re the one on vacation you know.”
To his credit he successfully gets a snort out of Yuma, and soon Shun giggles along as well
“I’ll visit.”
He promises earnestly. And the taller pair seem to feel better at the oath, it makes him happy.
They don’t stretch the goodbye, Yuma takes his leave before their train arrives, departing with a smile that allows sadness to bleed through it and giving them time to reach the needed platform. He walks home faster than he usually does, and he supposes a light exercise before sleep wouldn't hurt all that much.
When he comes back home it feels bigger than it actually is, and he feels smaller than he should.
Yuma likes his home. And he already has experience living on his own, so he really doesn’t know why being alone now is so jarring. The two unused futons stare at him from the closet where he unceremoniously discarded them. He tucks them away extra far. Then the rest of his night routine goes by seamlessly, and he finds himself ready to sleep. He doesn’t crawl into bed though, because his subconsciousness is weird like that. He just wishes Shun and Kao were by his side. It hurts more than he cares to admit that they’re not.
A bath would help him, he decides. Yuma doesn’t remember the last time he had taken a bath, always opting for the shower in a rush somewhere or from something. Now, he sinks slowly in the tub, tracing the steam as it evaporates. He has done enough self reflection for a decade, and he doesn’t need to dig deep to understand that he’s not in the best place mentally right now. It’s not that he is feeling bad, but rather tired. That’s not something new though, he has been feeling tired for a while now, it’s just lately he’s been having a hard time getting over this fatigue, or even hiding it.
He’s on break now, so it’s okay to feel that way. He reminds himself. For now.
He felt less tired with Shun and Kao, who were basically buzzing with anticipation for the next season. Whether with excitement or anxiety he didn’t specify, but fuel is fuel. He remembers that well, the feeling of blood boiling in your veins and all the energy just screaming to be released, he remembers shaking in fear of competing alongside-competing against Uno-senshu and Hanyu-senshu, he remembers the fear and the thrill of coming to the international stage, and he remembers the horror of coming in as a medal contender. Just like he remembers the addicting roar of the crowd and the adrenaline rush of seizing a place on the podium. Kao and Shun have been competing internationally for a while now, but they’ve only been breaking into medal contention recently, so if he has to guess they are in a similar spot as he was a few years back.
He left to the big stage earlier than they did, caught a glimpse of an era long gone, and he felt all these thrills and panics on his own. Now they would be departing to experience a new era and he would be the one staying behind.
He wanted to be there too, he wanted so badly to be there too.
There are little droplets falling in the tub, and it feels like with each one the water begins to cool significantly, it feels like a little rain starts filling the tub up, and any moment now the water will rise and consume him whole. It’s suffocating and it’s strangling, so he can only press his knees to his chest and continue to observe the salty droplets as they fall.
The water begins to lose its warmth, and his fingers start looking like his grandmother’s, and he feels like he is ready to sleep now. Only his body isn’t too keen on moving. It’s not uncomfortable, and he’s sure if he lies properly he wouldn’t be at risk of drowning, so the cons of getting out outweigh the pros. He closes his eyes, and the last thought he thinks before succumbing to sleep is that the futons he shoved away need to be re-stored more appropriately.
When he wakes up, or rather is awakened, it’s with a shiver running down his spine. Warmth is only a distant echo in the almost cool water, and his head is hurting slightly at the hard surface it’s been lying on. Falling asleep in the tub was a bad decision, he concludes.
The source of his awakening are the thuds somewhere in the house. He steps out carefully, and puts his pajamas back on, uncaring for the way it gets soaked almost immediately. He listens in to the source of the sounds, and is surprised when he figures out that it’s coming from the outside. Could dad be back early? He asks himself, and hurries off to the door.
He probably should’ve checked who the visitor was for safety, but it's too late now, and he flings the door open and prepares to bow to his father. Instead he is met with Shun and Kao. He doesn’t get to say a word before he’s being nearly carried off to his room, the fuss begins and in a slurry of rushed speech he can only vaguely pick on some phrases
“What happened?"
“You are so pale, and why are your lips blue?”
“Why are you soaked? What happened?”
He wants to answer, he really does, but at the moment all he can think of is that Kao and Shun are back, and he is more excited than he’s been in a very long time. One of them rushes out the room and the other urges him to change into drier clothes, then, there is a towel being aggressively used on his hair, and hands unbuttoning his pajamas. He comes back to earth once he’s been successfully changed and somewhat dried, and younger two are looking over him with concern so big he might assume the water was poisoned or something.
“You’re back.”
He simply states, and it doesn’t seem to help his case.
“We’re back and you look like a corpse.”
Kao retorts, he can’t tell if he’s trying to be sarcastic to lift the mood or to accuse Yuma of something. Come to think of it, it does look pretty bad right now,
“I fell asleep in the bath.”
he explains honestly, because there really isn’t much of a reason other than his own laziness. Neither speak after that, whatever dialogue they share is lost in glances and gestures that Yuma doesn’t feel like deciphering right now.
“Why did you come back? Don’t you have practice in the morning?”
It’s him who breaks the silence, as it always is.
“We canceled.”
Answers Shun, while still methodically drying his hair.
“Good thing we did, or we’d be one national champion short.”
Kao chips in, running a hand through his hair
“You already are.”
He reminds them. They both turn sharply to look at him again, and he has to fight a small chuckle, because he’s sure that he’s one weird movement away from being declared insane. Neither say anything, there is no sarcastic jab from Kao, no half whispered protests from Shun, because it is the truth and there is nothing they can do about it. They respected his desire for a break, even took him out to celebrate, but sometimes when they didn’t think he was paying attention, Yuma would catch concern or pity in their eyes. After a long while, Shun stops massaging his head and embarrassingly, he chases the ghost of contact. Kao brought all of them tea and they find themselves seated in his childhood bedroom. The walls adorned with medals and certificates stare at him, and he can’t imagine that just a few hours ago he was enjoying his time here. He can feel other stares too, but this time laced with concern.
“I’m sorry for making you two worried.”
He says, partly because he really does feel guilty, partly because he doesn’t think he can handle everything in the room glaring holes through him for another minute.
“It doesn’t matter Yuma.”
It’s Shun who replies, his voice shaky and meek, but very determined. He loves the sound of his voice.
“It won’t ever matter, we’ll always worry.”
He has to sit back and appreciate how much better Shun became with his words, it makes something warm bloom in him. Kao who’s at his other side slips his hand into his, and squeezes it gently. His way of agreeing with Shun, no doubt. Kao’s hand is slightly bigger than his own, and he always appreciates the chance to hold it, now is no exception.
“I’m okay.”
He finally says. Looking them both in the eyes. He gives them a weak smile, but an earnest one nonetheless.
“But I will be better.”
It’s a promise more to himself than them, but it serves its purpose in making their eyes light up, and god, isn’t that a sight for sore eyes. It’s long past sunrise when he falls asleep, two futons next to both his sides, and two people leaning over them and squashing him in between. He knows he will have to figure out how to be comfortable with being alone, and that there are a lot of things he’ll need to overcome in this year. But it does feel better now that he knows that Shun and Kao will visit sometimes.