บท 21: Kazuya and Kazuhiko: House of Horrors Part 1
Miyuki opens the door to his room and Furuya doesn't hesitate.
"Miyuki-senpai," he says, voice trembling. He still feels Kazuhiko's hands on his shoulders and he can't shake them off. "Your father went to bed, right?"
Miyuki nods as he dries his hair with a towel, "Yeah. Why do you ask? Think he's gonna murder you in your sleep or something?"
Furuya swallows, "Don't fool around like that. Your father seems like a kind person, so I won't elaborate. It was probably just my imagination." 'That was too realistic to be my imagination…'
"Wait, what? Did something happen while I was in the shower?"
"I'm pretty sure it was nothing. I guess I'm not the biggest fan of shadows."
"Alright…"
Miyuki sees Furuya tuck his trembling hands between his thighs, but decides to remain silent. He hangs his towel on a hook, peeks his head out the door, and looks down the hallway before closing it. He turns around and spreads his arms out wide.
"I see you've already made yourself comfortable," he says, "but welcome to my room. This is where you'll be sleeping for the next day or two."
Miyuki's room is of substantial size, nothing to be fascinated by. To his left, in the far upper corner, is a single bed. At the foot of the bed is his desk, neatly occupied by a cup of writing utensils, an old baseball cap, a hand mirror, stacks of notebooks and sports magazines, a glass case with signed baseball cards, and a small stuffed animal.
To his right were his wardrobe and a laundry basket adjacent to it. The other side of the wardrobe provided space for a decently-sized flat-screen TV, a few gaming consoles, and a beanbag chair.
Miyuki points to Furuya who's sitting at his desk.
"This is my room, so I must enforce some rules. Well, one rule. It's really simple: don't touch anything without my permission. I don't want your grubby freshman hands all over my stuff."
"That's an absurd request," Furuya complains. "What if I see something out of place and I want to fix it?"
"Did I stutter? I said what I said, now hurry up and take a shower."
Furuya grabs his bag of toiletries and heads for the door, then pauses.
"What?" Miyuki asks.
"Miyuki-senpai, may I please touch the doorknob?"
Miyuki buries his face in his palm, sighing in defeat. "You took the joke too seriously and now you've ruined it. What a buzzkill. Just go."
Furuya smiles softly before leaving.
A few minutes pass and Miyuki hears the sound of water pattering against the floor of the tub. He drowns it out with the sound of his footsteps creaking against the wooden floorboards as he exits his room and walks down the hallway.
It's pitch black, the dark curtains seizing every opportunity to choke any rays of moonlight filtering in. The only faint source of light is from underneath the bathroom, but Miyuki doesn't mind.
It's his house; he's done this before, only this time, he was heading to a room he never entered on his own.
He turns the corner and halts in front of his father's room. The door is ajar and a subzero gust of wind hits him with full force, but it doesn't disturb him, not in the slightest.
He swings the door open and walks inside. His father is lying in bed, his back turned towards him.
Miyuki stealthily crouches behind him and leans forward, making sure his lips were in line with his father's ear.
He speaks.
"You fucking old man," he spits, his face creasing with anger. His voice is harsh and laden with animosity, "Don't play dead. I know you're awake. You didn't do anything perverted while I was in the bathroom, right?"
The sheets rustle, then Kazuhiko elicits a yawn.
"I don't know what you're referring to, son," he says, yawning again. "I was sleeping until you entered."
"How many times do I have to remind you that I'm not an idiot? Quit lying, you shit excuse of a dad. You tried to scare Furuya. He was shaking."
"Kazuya, I have to start work early tomorrow, so—"
Miyuki snatches a pen from his back pocket and presses it into his father's neck, purposely avoiding the carotid artery. He grits his teeth.
"If you lay your creepy hands on Furuya, I'll use a knife next time, and I won't be so gentle. Do you understand me?"
Grunting, Kazuhiko turns around and faces Miyuki, covering the lower half of his face with his sheets. He can't see within the darkness, but he knows that his son's eyes are piercing his, wide with rage and the instinct to protect someone that wasn't remotely his. He regarded it as pitiful and a terrible sight to bear witness to.
Kazuhiko clears his throat.
"Whatever Furuya-kun experienced was a figment of his imagination, son. I never left my room. It breaks my heart to know that you don't even believe your own father. Why are you whimsically taking his side? You don't love him. He's not your romantic partner. Sawamura-kun is. What an outstanding kid, that brunette."
Miyuki casts the pen aside and sucks his teeth.
"You're talking out of your ass and it's annoying me," he says. "Love has absolutely no part in this. He's an important underclassman that I need to look out for because I don't trust you. I can't trust you."
"Why not?"
"I'm tired of going back and forth with you. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, son. I love you."
--
Furuya hurries into Miyuki's room after his shower, afraid that lingering in the hallway would spur the occurrence of another unfavorable event.
He shuts the door and sighs. "Miyuki-senpai, I'm very fond of your shower's water pressure. That was very refreshing…"
Furuya trails off as he looks up and sees Miyuki at his desk, furiously scrubbing his right arm with a handful of baby wipes. His arm is stained with blotches of black ink, a few spots having spattered onto his shirt and pants.
If Furuya didn't know any better, he would have thought it to be blood, but ever since he arrived at this household, it was a possibility he found difficult to rule out.
"What happened?" he asks as he stands over Miyuki. "What is that?"
Miyuki continues scrubbing, "I was trying to write something, but the pen popped and came all over me. Kinky. I've been doing this for the past five minutes. I don't think it's gonna come off."
"Soap and water might do the trick."
"In the morning. I'm not in a hurry. Besides, ink poisoning doesn't sound like a shabby way to…never mind. What do you wanna do?"
"Huh?" Furuya is caught off guard by the sudden change of topic.
Miyuki's face relaxes as he rolls his chair to the middle of his room and gestured toward his makeshift entertainment center.
"It's only nine, we can't possibly go to sleep yet. This week is meant to be bonding time, right? Let's bond over a TV show, or would you rather have me crush you in a video game? We can do both if you're up for it."
Furuya sets his towel aside and sits on the carpet. A faint blue aura surrounds him as Miyuki turns on the gaming console.
"I won't lose," he says, taking a controller.
Miyuki slides to the floor and sits only a few centimeters away from Furuya, their knees in danger of touching if one of them moves ever so slightly.
Miyuki grins, "Prepare to have your ass handed to you."
For the next two hours, the duo alternates between playing fighting games and watching movies on a streaming platform. The atmosphere is playful and filled with victorious laughter, perfectly masking the tension that existed just minutes ago.
Miyuki's voice rings the loudest in exasperation when he discovers that Furuya is a mobile game junkie and has never used a physical controller in his life.
This is a small fib, however.
Furuya and Kuramochi had played a few games of Street Fighter before, but it wasn't enough for him to become a confident gamer. Furuya smiles to himself as Miyuki places his hands on top of his, guiding their fingers in tandem across the controller.
He's not paying attention to Miyuki's instruction at all and instead just focuses on the sight of their interlocked fingers.
'He isn't afraid to touch me,' Furuya thinks, biting his lip. 'He's warming up to me. I hope this lasts.'
It doesn't.
Miyuki exhales as he sits back, his shoulders sinking. "Damn, you're unteachable! Was that competitive spirit just a front or what?"
"Perhaps."
"Crushing someone who doesn't know how to play isn't rewarding at all. I feel like a bully."
"Aren't you one already?"
"Hey, watch the attitude," Miyuki laughs. He looks at the time and gets up to stretch, "It's 11 already? Let's call it a night. We can pick up where we left off tomorrow."
Furuya nods and yawns as Miyuki walks over to the closet and retrieves a spare pillow and blanket. He holds out his hands, ready to accept them, but Miyuki pauses and raises a brow at him.
"What are you doing?" Miyuki asks.
"What are you doing?" Furuya parrots. "Aren't those for me?"
"What? No. These are for me."
"What do you mean?"
"You're taking my bed tonight."
Furuya stands up and shakes his head vehemently, denying his offer. "It's fine. You live here. I don't want to make you sleep on the floor in your own house."
"And I don't want to make the mother of my child sleep on the cold, hard floor. If something happens, I'll be responsible."
Miyuki maneuvers past Furuya and begins to assemble his post, flapping his blanket before carefully laying it on the ground.
As he's doing this, Furuya fails to ignore the incessant thumping in his chest and the burning sensation in his cheeks.
Miyuki called him "the mother of his child."
Again.
For the second time.
On the same day.
Holy shit.
Certain that he was blushing, Furuya keeps his head down as he slowly climbs into Miyuki's bed, the springs squeaking under his weight. He's too tall for the bed, so he accommodates it by switching into a fetal position.
Hiding his florid cheeks with the covers, he faces Miyuki who's now lying down, glasses off and eyes closed.
"Miyuki-senpai," he whispers.
The catcher opens one eye, "What's up?"
"You don't have to…you know, call me that all the time."
Miyuki chuckles as he lifts his arms and tucks his hands underneath his head, "Why not? It's the only way that you'll listen to me. Besides, I think it's something I need to say. Hearing it might benefit you in some mysterious way and in my case, it helps me realize how serious this is. Like, wow, Miyuki Kazuya is going to be a father at seventeen years old."
He turns on his side and makes eye contact with Furuya, the moonlight enhancing the color of his irises. Although he can't see clearly without his glasses, they are a majestic grayish-blue and Miyuki doesn't want to stop staring.
"I won't lie," he continues, "this is still a lot for me to absorb. I'm still in love, I'm still unsure about everything, but I'll try my best. What kind of father and senpai would I be if I let you down? The team would murder me for that, especially Jun-san. Anyway, that's enough about me. How do you feel about this?"
Furuya answers promptly, never taking his eyes off of Miyuki's. Their hazel color burns with a soft glow that calms him as opposed to setting his face on fire, which he found strange.
"As long as Miyuki-senpai treats me to an endless supply of crab omelets, I'm ready for anything. I have second thoughts now and then, but I know that there's nothing to be afraid of. I'll be number one on the pitch and in motherhood. All I need is Miyuki-senpai."
Miyuki wipes false tears from his eyes, "Ah, my heart. I should do the right thing more often if you're going to shower me with affection. My ego is doing celebratory backflips right now."
Furuya huffs and turns to face the wall, "There you go again, teasing me. Forget it. Goodnight."
"Haha. Night."
Miyuki rolls onto his back, keeping his eyes peeled on the door. He searches in his back pocket for a sharpened pencil and grips it tightly.
'Goodnight, Furuya,' Miyuki thinks, on the lookout for any suspicious movement in the gap between the door and the floor, 'Sleep as much as you can, as peacefully as you can. The shadow you saw wasn't your imagination; I'm one hundred percent sure about it. It was my father. I'll stay awake to make sure nothing happens to us. It's the only way we'll be able to survive this stay together…'
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