This story is for Scribe, who writes Yamabu the way I’d like to write it, and who, without knowing it, inspired this fic. ;)

Kotchan’s Story

October 2003

T

he little tornado is not feeling well. Today he’s not running around the studio. He’s not being loud either, as he usually is, when his shrilly voice can be heard, calling out insistently to one of his friends or some adult, trying to get the attention he craves.

Everybody has left. Taiyô’s grandmother was already waiting to take him home when the taping of the show ended. Hikaru had been invited to stay over for the weekend at Taiyô’s, so he went with them. Hoshino had to attend his violin lessons. He hates playing the violin, yet his father insists. Akama wanted to stay —him and Yabu are inseparable—, but his mother had to drop him at his father’s house. They are getting a divorce, and Akama spends the weekends and holidays with his father.

Shoon was in no hurry to leave, so he has stayed. He didn’t want to leave anyway. Seeing Yabu ill makes him feel protective. The show staff called Yabu’s home when they noticed he had a temperature, but nobody answered the phone. They tried his father’s office, but his secretary told them he’s away on a business trip. Finally they reached his mother on her mobile, but she said it’d take her a while to get there because she was on the other of town, so Shoon stayed.

Midori-san holds Yabu in her arms as she talks to the show’s director, with Shoon standing silently by her side. Yabu, who never fails to pull a face when the adults treat him like a kid, pinching his cheek or messing his hair, has his eyes closed now, and lets Midori pat his back. She still has the ugly, red wig on, as well as the clownish costume she wears for the show. Sometimes she can be rather brusque, but she’s a caring woman, and being unmarried, with no children of her own, she dotes on them all, and spoils the younger ones shamelessly, especially Yabu and Hikaru.

Finally Midori-san has to leave too. She puts her hand on Shoon’s shoulder and leads him to a small leather sofa in a corner, that is actually a prop from some other show. She tells him to sit down, and Shoon frowns slightly, but then drops his coat and backpack on the seat and obeys.

No sooner has he sank into the worn leather, Midori bends forward and drops Yabu gently on his lap. The child does not even open his eyes and his light-feather weight collapses against Shoon’s chest. In a reflex act Shoon’s arms wound around the skinny figure. Midori-san asks him to take care of Yabu until his mother arrives, and bids Shoon goodbye with a smile before walking away toward the dressing-room.

One of Yabu’s small hands closes on Shoon’s jumper. Shoon takes his coat to cover Yabu with it, and rests his cheek on top of the younger boy’s head, wishing it could always be like this.

He doesn’t want Yabu to be ill, of course, but he likes having him this close, feeling the coarseness of his short black hair against his cheek. People are going up and down, tidying up for the next taping, but Shoon takes no notice of them. He’s too absorbed in the strangeness of a quiet and fragile Yabu in his arms.

The murmur of conversations and the warmth created by Yabu’s body and his coat are making his eyelids heavy, and soon he dozes off.

When a hand shakes him softly by the arm, it takes Shoon a while to remember where he is and what has happened. He opens his eyes and finds Yabu’s mother in front of him. Shoon lets her take Yabu from his lap, who it seems had fallen asleep too, because he stirs and mumbles something before leaning his head on his mother’s shoulder and closing his eyes again.

Yabu’s mother thanks Shoon for taking care of Yabu. She offers to drive him home, and Shoon refuses half-heartedly, saying he doesn’t mind taking the metro as he always does, that it’s just a few stops. Yabu’s mother insists though, and finally Shoon gives in, thankful because it’s been a long day.

When Yabu’s mother drops Shoon at his house, Yabu is soundly asleep on the back seat, so Shoon just murmurs an “odaiji ni, ne?”, even though Yabu can’t hear him, before thanking Mrs. Yabu and getting out of the car.

Shoon is so tired that he heads to his bedroom right after dinner, and gets into bed, relieved with the thought that the next day it’s Saturday and there’s no work and no school.

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Shoon lazes through Saturday morning. It’s a little cold outside, but there are no clouds in the sky, so him and Reon go to the park to take Popo for a walk. Popo is their neighbours’ dog. It’s a huge, old San Bernardo, and his owners, an elderly couple, know Shoon and Reon’s mother won’t hear of having a dog in the house, no matter how much they plead with her, so they let them take Popo for walks and play with him. Popo’s days of playing are long gone, and he prefers to sit and doze in sun to running after a stick, but Reon, who’s just eleven, doesn’t give the San Bernardo any rest.

A couple hours after lunch Shoon leaves the house again, but this time he takes the bus and gets off at an elegant residential area about twenty minutes later. The houses are big and modern but there are few trees on the streets, which he misses, because he loves trees. He’s a little nervous as he approaches the front door of number 25. Perhaps he should have called before coming, he thinks.

He hesitates but finally rings the bell. When the door opens, Yabu’s mother greets him with a warm smile.

“Shoon-kun, what a pleasant surprise! Are you here to see Kôta?”

It’s strange for Shoon to hear Yabu being called by his first name. Nobody in Johnny’s does that, but of course it would be even stranger if Yabu’s own mother referred to him by the family name. He nods shyly.

“If that’s okay... I mean, if he’s feeling well enough to have visits...”

“He’s much better. He’s just grumpy because I won’t let him be out and about,” Yabu’s mother tells Shoon. “He’ll be delighted to have someone to play with. He’s been moaning and complaining all day long.”

She leads him upstairs, to Yabu’s room, and opens the door.

“Look who has come to see you,” she says with a smile, stepping aside to let Shoon enter.

Yabu, who was in bed with a sulky look and his arms crossed, sits up immediately and his face lits up.

“Shoon!”

Shoon smiles, and Yabu’s mother leaves after making Shoon promise not to let her son overdo it.

“Are you feeling better?,” Shoon asks Yabu, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, his coat in his hands.

“I’m fine,” Yabu replies, getting down from the bed and stepping into his slippers. “My mum’s just being overbearing as always,” he adds with a dismissive wave of the hand.

However, his voice sounds more nasal than usual and he coughs hard a couple of times. It seems he has a bit of a bad cold.

“I’ve brought you this,” Shoon says, producing a plastic bag full of sweets out of his coat’s pocket and handing it to him.

A big toothy smile appears on Yabu’s face, that makes his eyes turn into mere dark slits.

“Thanks,” he says before opening the bag and offering Shoon some.

Shoon takes a piece of liquorice and Yabu a red jelly gum with the shape of a spider that reminds him of something.

“Hey, want to see the Spiderman action figures my uncle gave me last time he was here?,” he asks excitedly.

And before Shoon can even answer Yabu drags him towards his study desk, where among his school notebooks lay several toys.

“Ain’t they cool?,” Yabu prompts, handing Shoon the nearest action figure. “It looks exactly like in the comics, doesn’t it?”

“I thought Spiderman’s suit was red and blue,” Shoon points out, examining the articulated plastic figure, which has a black suit and mask.

“Well, yeah, but this is the evil Spiderman,” Yabu retorts. “It’s much cooler,” he declares, taking the figure from Shoon’s hand and looking at it proudly.

“The evil Spiderman?”

“Yeah, it’s when Spiderman gets the black suit that is like a living creature that flows around like a sort of oil slick, remember?” Yabu replies absently, as he moves the arms and legs of the figure before placing it back on the desk in a defensive stance.

Shoon takes another figure. It has a human shape, but it looks more like a monster. It’s bald, its skin is pitch black, and it looks rather vicious with its strange white eyes, pointed teeth and a disgusting long, black tongue.

“And who’s this?,” he asks.

Yabu frowns up at him, as in disbelief.

“That’s Venom. Haven’t you read the Spiderman comics?”

“Um... no,” Shoon admits a bit sheepishly. Why does he always feel like he’s the younger one when he’s with Yabu? “Actually I don’t read that many comics... or manga for that matter.”

Yabu stares at him for a good while, blinking, but says nothing.

“Really?”

Shoon nods uncomfortably.

“You’re weird,” Yabu declares.

“I know,” is all Shoon can say.

His countenance is all too serious as he holds Yabu’s gaze, like a convict waiting resignedly to hear the sentence to be imposed upon him for having committed a crime.

However, when an infectious smile lifts up the corners of Yabu’s lips, Shoon can’t help but smile too, which makes both laugh, and Shoon feels the tension easing away.

He hands the figure to Yabu, who makes it stand on the desk, in front of the evil Spiderman, as if they are about to fight.

“Do you think reading manga is childish?,” he asks suddenly.

He has made the question in a nonchalant tone, and he is looking down at the figures, but Shoon has the feeling he cares about his opinion on the subject, and that surprises and flatters him. He had never thought Yabu, who seems to need nobody’s guidance, who makes decisions on the spot and without hesitation, like an inborn leader, could care about his views on anything. He’s about to point out that Yabu is a child, so he doesn’t have to worry about that, but Yabu is 12, and he knows from experience that no 12 year-old boy likes being referred to as a child, so Shoon holds his tongue.

“No, of course not,” he says instead. “I’m not in the habit of reading them, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with liking them.”

Yabu looks up at him and smiles, and Shoon smiles back.

“Are you any good at videogames?,” Yabu asks, cocking his head.

Shoon knows him well and doesn’t miss the defying twinkle in his eye. Yabu likes nothing better than a challenge.

“What game are we playing?”

“Street Fighter II, the Alpha Turbo version,” Yabu proposes with a smirk.

“You’re on. I’m gonna kick your ass,” Shoon replies with a smug smile.

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When Yabu’s mother goes upstairs with a dinner tray, almost three hours later, she stops in the hallway and spies the two friends through the crack of the half open door.

Yabu and Shoon are sitting on the floor, their backs to her. The TV set is on but the voice is off, and scattered near the game console lay forgotten two joysticks and some videogames. The children are sitting on cushions, and Yabu is wrapped in his red nightgown.

Yabu’s mother suspects both the cushions and the nightgown must have been Shoon’s doing, because her son is too careless, and would have sat on the cold tile floor without a thought. A warm smile touches her lips. Can there be a sweeter child?

Yabu is leaning on Shoon, his head on Shoon’s shoulder as he rambles about some comics he’s showing the older boy:

“See? And when Spiderman finds out that the suit is alive and that it's been controlling his mind, he decides to get rid of it. The problem is the suit doesn't want to leave. So he ends up fighting it...”

Yabu’s two brothers are many years older than him, and they never play with him or sit with him to listen to his childish gibberish. Shoon, however, is patient and understanding, and gives Yabu the attention he yearns for. Mrs. Yabu has never seen her son this calm.

There’s something peaceful about this Yamashita boy, something that soothes.

“Hey. I hope you are hungry,” she interrupts, coming into the room.

Shoon gets up immediately and goes to help her with the tray, but she gestures towards the desk with her head.

“If you make some room I’ll put it there,” she tells him.

Yabu has gotten up too and goes help Shoon tidy up the desk.

“Ne, Shoon-kun, will you stay for the night?,” Yabu’s mother asks.

“Can he?,” Yabu pipes in excitedly.

“Yes, he can, but only if his parents allow him to, of course,” she replies.

“Well, I don’t know...,” Shoon mumbles, a bit embarrassed.

“’Kaasan will call them,” Yabu interrupts. “Won’t you?, won’t you?” he pleads with his mother, jumping up and down as he tugs at her sleeve. “Pleeeease?,” he insists, looking up at her with puppy eyes, his hands clasped under his chin.

Mrs. Yabu laughs at her son’s antics.

“Okay, okay, I will.”

“But I haven’t brought any pajamas or anything,” Shoon puts in.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Yabu’s mother says; “you can borrow a pair from one of my older sons.”

“And I have a new toothbrush I haven’t used yet,” Yabu adds.

Shoon shuffles his feet and looks shyly at Yabu’s mother.

“I wouldn’t want to give you any trouble...”

“Nonsense; it’s no trouble at all,” Yabu’s mother assures him.

“But Yabu is still not feeling well,” Shoon insists. “I think I should let him rest and...” He shuts up the minute he sees Yabu’s sad pout though. “Well, if it really is not too much trouble... I guess my parents will let me stay.”

Yabu brightens. His mother takes a piece of paper and a pen from the desk and jots down Shoon’s home number as he gives it to her. Meanwhile Yabu, who has managed to get what he wants, as he always does, smiles happily and takes an onigiri from the tray, that he stuffs without any ceremony into his mouth.

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Yabu can’t sleep, and not just because of the congestion in his nose or the occasional cough that echoes in the room as if he were a heavy smoker. It seems Shoon can’t sleep either, because he keeps tossing an turning on the futon by his bed side, and the rustling of sheets every time he moves is getting on his nerves.

“Shoon, daijobu?,” he asks in a loud whisper.

At the sound of his voice Shoon stills.

“Un.”

“Are you uncomfortable?,” Yabu insists, scooting towards the edge of the mattress.

“No. No, I’m okay,” Shoon replies quietly, though he sounds tense. “Go back to sleep.”

Yabu lets out a sigh and coughs.

“I can’t sleep. My head feels as if it were full of cotton, I can’t breath well, and my throat is raspy,” he complains. And you haven’t kept still in the last twenty minutes, he adds to himself.

Shoon sits up and looks up at him in the dark.

“Your mother left some cough drops on your nightstand,” he says.

Yabu groans.

“I hate them, they’re menthol flavoured and I hate mint.”

“Don’t be fussy,” Shoon nags him before getting up and turning on the bedside lamp.

Yabu groans again and covers his eyes from the light with his forearm.

“Shoon, I don’t want them,” he moans even as Shoon is unwrapping one. “They taste awful and...”

Before he can finish the sentence though, Shoon stuffs the cough drop in his mouth.

“Yuck ～”

Shoon ignores his complaint and busies himself in arranging a couple of big cushions under Yabu’s head so he’ll breath more easily.

“Shoon, why can’t you sleep?”

Shoon’s hands still for a second before they finish their task and withdraw.

“I... it doesn’t matter,” he mumbles. “Better now?,” he asks taking a step back.

“Un. Are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine. Try to sleep,” Shoon replies, tense like before, as he gets back into the futon.

He draws the sheets up to his chin and turns his back to Yabu, who remains quiet for like... half a minute.

“Shoon.”

“What?”

“Do you want my pillow? Perhaps yours is too thin.”

“No. Go to sleep.”

Another silence, just as short.

“Are you scared of the dark?”

“Of course not,” Shoon snaps, sounding more nervous than offended.

“Then why can’t you sleep?”

“What does it matter? Just go to sleep, Yabu,” Shoon mutters, as if anxious to drop the subject.

Yabu, however, does not want to drop it. He throws the sheets to one side and jumps from the bed in a surprise attack, landing on top of Shoon with a thump.

“Ouch! Yabu, what are you doing?,” Shoon says through greeted teeth in a loud whisper, worried they’ll wake up his family. “Get off,” he demands turning around, trying to dislodge Yabu.

However, in a quick move Yabu straddles Shoon’s waist, and pins him with his weight, immobilizing him.

“I will if you tell me; if you don’t... well, then I’ll tickle you till you tell me. Either way you’ll end up telling me, so you choose: speak now or face torture,” he says with a wicked smile.

Shoon, however, is not smiling. He moves his head to the side and the shadows hide his face.

“I don’t want to tell you. It’s embarrassing,” he murmurs.

Yabu’s expression turns serious. Shoon sounds hurt, and Yabu doesn’t want to hurt him. He relaxes his grip on Shoon’s waist, moving his bony knees apart from either side it.

“You can tell me. I won’t laugh. Whatever it is.”

Shoon turns his head and looks up at him uncertainly.

“Even if you don’t, I’ll still feel embarrassed,” he says, letting his gaze fall. “I don’t want you to know.”

“But I want to know,” Yabu insists.

Shoon’s silence grows stubborn.

“Come on, Shoon, this is silly; tell me.”

Shoon heaves a sigh and looks up again.

“You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

Yabu gets off of him and kneels by his side before holding up his left hand solemnly.

“Not a soul.”

Shoon sits up and fidgets with the sheets hem. Yabu stares at him expectantly, but does not push him.

“I can’t sleep without my plushies,” Shoon murmurs at last.

Yabu doesn’t know what to say, and Shoon ventures a quick look at him, as if to check his reaction, but Yabu remains silent.

“I get nervous when I don’t have them with me when I go to bed,” Shoon explains, shifting and wringing his hands a little. “I even put them in my suitcase when we go on tours or something, and on family holidays.”

Yabu blinks.

“You sleep with plush toys?”

Shoon looks away uncomfortably.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d think it’s stupid.”

“I haven’t said that,” Yabu retorts.

“No, but that’s what you’re thinking,” Shoon mutters, looking back at him.

“Shoon, I’m not-”

“And you’re right, it’s stupid. And pathetic. I’m almost fourteen and I still sleep with plushies,” Shoon cuts him off. His jaw tightens as he looks away again.

Yabu remains silent for a while.

“Is that why you kept on bringing up excuses when my mum invited you to stay?,” he asks.

Shoon nods.

“It really is a problem for you, isn’t it?,” Yabu asks quietly, regarding him with a serious look.

“Please, don’t tell anyone,” Shoon begs in a small voice.

“Of course I won’t,” Yabu says, a little offended. Suddenly he has an idea. “Hey, I could go to my sister’s room and ask her to let me borrow one.”

Shoon shakes his head violently and flails his hands in front of him.

“No, no, no... Don’t do that!”

“Okay, okay, it was just an idea.”

Shoon starts fidgetting with the sheet’s hem again.

“Go back to bed, Yabu. I’ll be okay.”

Reluctantly, Yabu climbs to his bed, and Shoon lies back down and curls up on the futon.

The clock on the nightstand ticks on as Yabu lies on his side, staring at Shoon’s back in the dark, listening, waiting to hear Shoon’s breathing turn slow and rythmic, because then he’ll know Shoon is asleep. However that change in Shoon’s breathing doesn’t come, and Yabu is sure he’s still wide awake, most likely nervous and tense.

“Shoon,” he calls again.

“Yes?”

He sounds slightly jumpy. Perhaps Shoon thought he was asleep already.

When Yabu doesn’t reply, Shoon turns around. Yabu has sat up and has thrown back the covers.

“Come here,” he says, patting the empty space on the mattress with his hand.

Shoon hesitates.

“Shoon, it’s past... midnight,” Yabu says, stiffling a yawn.

“But-”

“Come here already, it’s cold,” Yabu snaps.

Finally Shoon obeys, and when he lies down, Yabu draws up the covers and snuggles close to him, circling his waist with his skinny arms. Shoon tenses, but Yabu snuggles even closer and buries his face in the hollow of Shoon’s neck with a sleepy sigh.

“Wh-what are you doing?,” Shoon asks, a slight high pitch in his voice.

“Just imagine I’m one of your plushies.”

Shoon swallows, but Yabu reaches out, takes him by the wrist, and makes Shoon’s arm sling around him before circling his waist again with his own arm.

Shoon’s heart stutters. He’s too young to know it, but he’s in love with Yabu. He doesn’t understand yet why he feels nervous when he’s with Yabu, yet at the same time wants to protect him and take care of him, even though he thinks Yabu is so independent and strong that he doesn’t need his protection nor his care. He doesn’t know Yabu is not really that strong, that he too gets scared sometimes.

Yabu seems to sense his tenseness, because suddenly he asks Shoon to tell him about his plushies, as if to distract Shoon from his thoughts.

Shoon inhales deeply, and his lungs are filled with a mixed smell of clean sheets and mint.

“When we went to the Universal Studios theme park, months ago, I took them with me. I was sleeping with them when you, Hikaru, Midori-san, and the rest came with the camera guy into the room I was sharing with Taiyô, early in the morning,” he says at last in a quiet voice. “It took me a minute to shake the sleep off and put the plushies away. I was afraid somebody might have noticed them.”

He feels Yabu’s eyelashes brush his skin, like the soft flutter of a butterfly’s wings, as Yabu blinks.

“I don’t remember even seeing them,” Yabu says.

“I had the hope none of you did,” Shoon murmurs, relaxing slowly against Yabu’s small body. “After all, nobody teased me or made any comment.”

Yabu thinks to himself that if anybody had made fun of Shoon he would have punched them. However, he has to fight the urge to smile when he imagines a flustered Shoon hiding an armful of plushies under the sheets.

“How many plushies are we speaking of?,” he asks, and in spite of his efforts the smile tugs at his lips. “Sorry,” he mumbles, sure that Shoon has felt and heard the smile.

To his surprise, Shoon lets out a soft, breathless laugh. Well, it’s kind of funny after all.

“Um... three,” he admits. “A giraffe, a koala, and a penguin.”

Not your usual plush toys at all, Yabu thinks.

“No teddy bear?”

“Oh, I did have one, a pink one, but it was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?,” Yabu repeats with a frown.

Shoon laughs softly again.

“Yes. My brother took it to the kindergarten once, and came back home without it. It was my favourite plush toy, and Reon had taken it without my permission, so I cried quite a bit,” Shoon explains. “In fact I was so upset my mother took me to the kindergarten, but we didn’t find it. However, there was a little girl, the daughter of one of the teachers, who said she’s seen another child carrying it when he left.”

“Oh, a witness of the crime,” Yabu says laughing.

“Yabu, it’s not funny,” Shoon chides, even though he’s laughing too. “It was kidnapped.”

“It’s a really sad story. Really sad,” Yabu says with a yawn. “What kind of animal do you think I’d be if I were a plushie?,” he asks.

Shoon thinks about it for a second.

“A monkey, probably,” he replies, making Yabu laugh.

“Why?”

“Well, you don’t keep still for a second, you’re really smart, and you want to play all the time.”

“A monkey,” Yabu repeats to himself, as if trying to decide whether he likes the idea or not.

“Mm-hmm.”

They remain silent for a while, and Yabu yawns again.

“O-yasumi,” he murmurs sleepily.

“O-yasumi,” Shoon answers back.

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine that Yabu is one of his plushies, but it’s hard. His plushies are not bony, they don’t smell of mint, and they do not breath.

However, his plushies are not warm, like Yabu is, and they do not have small hands that cling to his waist like Yabu’s hands are doing right now.

He rubs his chin softly against Yabu’s hair and smiles, feeling the sleep dragging him away as he thinks that nobody else in the world has a Yabu “plushie” in their arms that night, like he has.

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December 14th 2006, Thursday

“Yabu! Matte!”

The classes are over and Yabu, who’s crossing the school gate, stops when he hears his name being called, and turns around to see Shoon running toward him. When Shoon gets to his side he’s out of breath, but has a wide smile on his face.

Their relationship has changed substantially in the last few months. The awkwardness that has always stood between them, the awkwardness Yabu can’t make out, still arises sometimes, but they’re both now more relaxed around each other.

When Hikaru was chosen as a member of Kitty GYM, his absence gave him and Shoon the chance to get to know each other better and, yes, they are somewhat closer now. Probably it sounds strange to say they didn’t know each other that well when they’ve been working together for years, but he blames the awkwardness for that.

“Are you going home too?,” Yabu asks.

Shoon shakes his head as he tries to get back his breath, a hand on his chest.

“Not yet. I promised I’d help a friend with something they’ve explained to us in class today, but I had to talk to you before you left.”

It’s then when Yabu notices Shoon is standing there in his shirt, without a jumper or a coat.

“My birthday is next week, but it falls on a Wednesday, and the next day we have classes, so it’s not a good day for a party,” Shoon says in a rush. “Also, Hikaru’s birthday was just two days ago and it was a weekday as well, so we’ve been thinking we could celebrate it together on Saturday at his sister’s house and invite everyone. A double birthday party, you know. His sister and her husband will be away till Sunday evening, visiting some relatives, and they’ve given Hikaru permission to hold the party as long as we all behave.”

“On Saturday?”

“Yes. It has to be this weekend because next Saturday it’s the 24th already, and we can’t have a birthday party on Christmas Eve, can we?”

“Um, no, of course,” Yabu agrees, scratching his head. “Problem is I’m not free this Saturday.”

Shoon looks disappointed, and the bright smile on his lips wanes.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I would love to go. I’m sure it would be fun, but I have plans already.”

Shoon laughs awkwardly.

“It’s okay; you don’t need to apologize. After all it’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? We should have planned this with more time,” he says with a shrug. “Besides... we see each other almost everyday. It’s okay, really, don’t feel bad about it,” he adds, shrugging again as he starts walking backwards, towards the school building. “Well, see you tomorrow.”

Yabu’s gaze follows Shoon’s back as he turns around on his heels and walks away.

“Shoon, wait!,” he calls his friend.

Shoon stops and turns, and Yabu jogs to meet him halfway.

“I was thinking... if you’re not too busy we could meet after school on the day of your birthday,” Yabu proposes. “We don’t have too much homework. Seems our teachers are human after all; they’ve taken pity on us now the holidays are coming.”

Shoon stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trousers and moistens his lips.

“I guess I could take some time off. It’s my birthday after all, isn’t it?,” he says, and the smile is back to his lips. “What would you like to do?,” he asks hesitantly.

“Well, it’s more like what would you like to do,” Yabu replies. “It’s your birthday after all, isn’t it?,” he adds, echoing Shoon. “You choose.”

Shoon’s smile grows wider. He looks up at the grayish sky, considering the different options as he rocks on his heels, hands still in his pockets.

Finally he comes to a decision:

“I think I’ll let you surprise me,” he says with a smug smile.

“What? Great, now I’ll have to rack my brains. How can you be so mean?,” Yabu complains with a pout that only makes Shoon smile more.

“I thought you loved challenges,” is Shoon’s retort. “Let’s make a deal: since you have to surprise me... I won’t expect you to buy me a present. I think it’s fair, isn’t it?”

Yabu purses his lips and gives him the evil eye.

“Yeah, real fair.”

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December 20th 2006, Wednesday, Shoon’s birthday

Shoon has changed his clothes no less than five times in the last half an hour. Yabu will arrive any minute now, and finally he has settled for his DKNY cobalt blue, three-quarter length sleeved shirt, and his favourite grey trousers. Why does he even bother? It’s not like Yabu is going to notice what he’s wearing anyway, he thinks with a sigh as he looks at his reflection in the mirror yet again.

The very chic design shirt is not appropriate at all when it’s like 15ºC outside, but he’s wearing a warm underwear t-shirt beneath, and will put on his warmest coat on top. Besides, every public place you go into has central heating, so it’s unlikely he’ll be cold.

He’s glad his parents and brother are not home. They’d be wondering why he’s taking so many pains on an outing with a friend, with one of his bandmates. He doesn’t feel ready to tell them just yet. Will he ever really?

Just then the doorbell rings. Shoon’s heart stutters. He takes his wallet from the nighstand and puts it in his pocket before he leaves the room. He has to go back into the room because he has forgotten his keys. He jogs downstairs, telling himself he should be more composed, that he should try to act as if he hasn’t been in jitters since he got home, but he’s been waiting six days for this moment. Just six days? No, make that three years.

When he opens the door, Shoon has to remind himself to breath and wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at Yabu without feeling that tingly wave running through his body, the pang in his chest.

“Ready to go?,” Yabu asks with a smile.

As if he even has to ask.

“Hai. I’ll just get my coat and we can leave,” Shoon answers, gesturing with his thumb to the wardrobe behind him in the small foyer.

“Won’t you be cold in that shirt?,” Yabu asks when Shoon turns.

Shoon holds back a sigh as he takes out his coat, gloves, and scarf. Well, not exactly the comment he wanted to get from him, but he should be content that at least Yabu’s noticed the shirt.

“My coat is warm enough,” he answer vaguely as he puts it on.

“Mind if I leave this here?,” Yabu asks, lifting a plastic bag he’s been holding in his hand. “I’ll pick it up when we get back.”

“Sure. You can put it in the wardrobe if you want.”

Yabu bends and places the bag on the wardrobe’s floor.

“Shall we go then?”

Shoon nods and they leave the house.

“Aren’t you going to tell me where we are going?,” Shoon asks as he follows Yabu down the street.

Yabu can’t hide his amusement.

“It won’t be a surprise if I tell you,” he teases Shoon with a smile. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

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Little could have Shoon imagined when they get off the bus at Odaiba, about twenty minutes later, that Yabu was taking him to the Miraikan planetarium.

“I hadn’t been to a planetarium since second grade,” he tells Yabu quietly, as they walk through the different rooms with electronic, interactive panels that unveil the secrets of the universe.

He is not sure of the reason he’s speaking in a low, almost reverential tone. Perhaps it’s because they are in a museum. Perhaps it’s because the rooms are dark, evoking the nightsky. Perhaps it’s because of how small he’s always felt when gazing at the stars.

“How did you know?,” he asks Yabu, still puzzled that he has brought him here.

An enigmatic smile appear on Yabu’s lips. He just shrugs.

“I remembered that, when we were in Hawaii, you liked to stand out on the balcony of our hotel room at night, gazing up at the sky. Sometimes we were all inside, laughing and joking, and there you were, stargazing with that dreamy look on your face,” he explains. “...the same look you have now,” he adds with a teasing grin.

Shoon is glad it’s dark so that Yabu can’t see his blush. He is not sure how much the dreamy look has to do with his surprise and how much with being on a date of sorts with Yabu.

Later, when they sit in the showroom, under a gigantic dome-shaped screen, gazing at a starry sky when outside it’s daylight, Shoon can’t think of anything more romantic. He just wishes... Oh, what a terrible thing wishes are.

The show even includes a program called “Colours of the Dark”, that shows breathtaking, colourful images of the universe with a background of music. It’s the most beautiful thing Shoon has ever seen.

Yabu takes Shoon to an informal sushi place in the area, and they talk and talk, as if they didn’t see each other everyday. They laugh, and make confidences to each other, but there’s just this one thing Shoon cannot tell Yabu, not even today. He’s afraid of spoiling one of the most perfect days of his life.

On the ride back they are both quiet, but the silence between them is not awkward, it’s a silence that Shoon cherishes, just like every each and other moment of that evening.

When they get to Shoon’s house Reon is home already, but he’s in his room and doesn’t bother to come downstairs when Shoon calls with a “tadaima!” as he closes the door. He just replies with a lazy “o-kaeri” and says he’s going to take a shower.

Shoon is glad to have those last few minutes alone with Yabu before he leaves.

“This has been one of the best birthdays I’ve had,” he tells Yabu, wanting to say so much more. “Thanks.”

Yabu smiles.

“I had fun too.”

Before the silence stretches, Shoon asks Yabu if he’s taking the metro to go home. A bit of unsubstantial conversation should do the trick, he thinks. He wants to kiss Yabu, but he doesn’t want Yabu’s warm smile to turn into an expression of shock, or worse, of horror.

“No, I think I’ll take the bus,” Yabu replies. “The bus stop is a few blocks ahead, but I feel like walking.”

“You should have put a scarf on,” Shoon reproaches him, looking at his bare throat. “It’s colder now that it’s getting dark.”

He takes off his and lays it over Yabu’s shoulders. Only then does he realize what he’s doing. His hands are still holding both ends of the scarf, his face is but a few inches away from Yabu’s, and his gaze is locked with Yabu’s lips. He’s terrified to look up, to meet Yabu’s eyes, afraid his feelings will be revealed.

“Shoon, close your eyes.”

Shoon’s heart jumps in his chest when he feels Yabu’s warm breath spread across his lips. His stomach is tied in knots as he closes his eyes, more nervous than he’s been in his whole life, almost as if this were going to be his first kiss.

He feels Yabu’s hands close on his to make them let go off the scarf’s ends.

“And don’t open them.”

Shoon swallows, his lips part.

Yabu lets go of his hands, and Shoon frowns when he hears Yabu stepping aside, the wardrobe door opening, a rustle of plastic.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

When he does and sees the wrapped present Yabu is holding in his hands, Shoon’s heart plummets and he wants the earth to open and swallow him up. It takes him a second to recover.

“You didn’t have to... I told you not to...,” he mumbles.

“I know, but I wanted to give you something anyway,” Yabu says, pushing the present into his hands. “Open it.”

Numbly, Shoon takes it, wishing he could smile.

He unwraps the present, tearing the coloured paper awkwardly until he holds... a pink teddy bear in his hands. His throat closes up. Suddenly he’s thirteen again, he’s holding a small, skinny Yabu in his arms. A pink teddy bear... Yabu still remembers, after so many years. He lets out a breathless laugh as he looks up at Yabu, who laughs too.

“The FBI rescued him just yesterday,” he says. “The boy who kidnapped your teddy bear asked for a ridiculously high ransom, but the police circled his house, and in the end he released your plushie.”

“Oh, Yabu,” Shoon says amidst more breathless laughter. “I can’t believe you remembered that,” he murmurs shaking his head. “I have to say it looks nothing like the teddy bear I had, though,” he adds, just to tease Yabu.

“Well, it’s been many years since he was kidnapped. You couldn’t expect your teddy bear not to age. And he’s suffered a lot,” Yabu replies, making Shoon laugh again. “You must take good care of him now.”

“I will,” Shoon promises with a smile.

That night, when Shoon gets into bed, the pink teddy bear sits on his nighstand. He’s looking at it as his mind goes through the events of the evening, but when he remembers the “failed” kiss he doesn’t feel bad. Yabu’s present wiped away the hurt the moment Shoon laid his eyes on it.

He smiles at the teddy bear, and touches its nose with a tap of his index. Suddenly though, he realizes he hasn’t given it a name. Shoon purses his lips, trying to come up with one and when he does, he knows the teddy bear couldn’t have any other name.

He turns off the light and looks at the plush toy in the dark.

“Night, Kotchan,” he whispers with a smile before closing his eyes.

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NOTES:

Credits to Luma-chan for the Shoon and Yabu-Shoon JE shop pics. =]

Here you can watch the clip from the 2003 Ya3 show in Universal Studios Japan of Shoon and his plushies! XD Also, if you want to download it, you can do so here.

Info used for this fanfic:

+ Blasting off for Golden Week, The Japan Times, an article about planetariums in Japan.

+ Site of The Nation Museum of Emerging Science and Innovation (Miraikan) in Odaiba, Tokyo.

+ Info about the program “Colours of the Dark”, showed from 2005 to 2007 (from which I took the pictures for this fic)

fanfic glossary:

+ odaiji ni, ne? [get well soon/take care, will you?] – [go back to where you were reading]

+ ‘Kaasan (familiar form for “okaasan”, mother) - [go back to where you were reading]

+ manga – Japanese comics - [go back to where you were reading]

+ onigiri – rice ball - [go back to where you were reading]

+ daijobu? – are you okay? - [go back to where you were reading]

+ un – an informal Japanese word for “yes” - [go back to where you were reading]

+ o-yasumi (nasai) – good night - [go back to where you were reading]

+ matte! – wait up! - [go back to where you were reading]

+ hai – yes - [go back to where you were reading]

+ Miraikan (common name for a planetarium in Odaiba, Tokyo, which full name is the “National Museum of Emerging Science and Innovation”) - [go back to where you were reading]

+ tadaima! – I’m home! - [go back to where you were reading]

+ o-kaeri – welcome back - [go back to where you were reading]

+ Kotchan – a nickname for Kôta, Yabu’s first name. Actually it’s a nickname Hikaru came up with in the March issue of this year’s Duet magazine - [go back to where you were reading]

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