#im !!

Arataka has only known Shigeo for the span of a month and can already say beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would walk through hell and back, fight an army of thousands, and tear the world apart if it meant Shigeo would live a long, safe, happy life. Shigeo is by far the best thing that’s happened to him and he wouldn’t trade him for anything.

That said, he doesn’t know the first thing about parenting. He’s sure he’ll get it eventually, that things will ‘click’ some way or another, but it’s already been a month. He would’ve hoped to have at least a few clues by now.

“Hey, it’s almost the weekend,” he says into the apartment one Thursday afternoon, kicked back on the living room couch. The couch is too small to fit him, really; his legs dangle over one end and his head rests on the other; but it’s all he could afford at the time of purchase. “You wanna do anything special, kiddo?”

“Like what?” Shigeo asks, looking up at him. He’s sitting on the rug, dangling a string that Dimple has been chasing around for the better part of an hour. The cat has this… sickly green tint in its fur that’s always been there, and if Shigeo hadn’t asked so innocently and Arataka wasn’t such a damn pushover, the cat would be in a shelter. As it is, though, the cat is theirs.

Arataka gives a shrug. “I dunno, something. We’ve never been up to the mountains before, have we? I heard they’re calling for snow, it should be a lot of fun.”

Shigeo blinks at him twice. He isn’t moving around the string anymore. “What should be fun?”

Arataka sits up. “I mean, going up there and playing in the snow. We can build snowmen and have a snowball fight and stuff. We have a weekend to kill.”

Shigeo looks down thoughtfully and Arataka prays he hadn’t said the wrong thing (even though he has no way of knowing or even guessing what that could’ve been). The rope swishes across the floor and sharp claws scramble after it.

“Who’s going to take care of Dimple?” Shigeo asks.

“I’m sure the neighbors wouldn’t mind,” Arataka says, and now he’s guessing, but at least there’s some logic behind it this time. “They’ve looked after him before. I’ll drop by later and ask them. In the meantime… what do you think?”

Shigeo pauses for a moment to think. He likes taking time with his responses, thinking over each word carefully before he speaks them. Arataka is a patient man, but right now his nerves are kind of getting to him and he hopes he answers soon.

“I think that’d be fun,” Shigeo says at long, long last, turning to him with the smallest of smiles. “I’d like to go, I think.”

The butterflies in Arataka’s stomach high-five, and soon he’s grinning, too. “Great! Then let’s do it!”

As it happened, “killing the weekend,” as Arataka put it, ends up having to be more of a “kill one Saturday afternoon because whoops there aren’t any cabins up there and it’s too cold to pitch a tent, which would be out of the question anyway because of the bugs, Shigeo, the bugs,” but Shigeo doesn’t seem too disappointed. If anything, he’s happy that they won’t have to leave Dimple behind for long and still have time to play in the snow. It’s a win-win situation as far as he’s concerned.

And with Shigeo in such a good mood, Arataka can’t find it in him to be upset for very long. They load up the car (a rental; Arataka can only hope and pray that he doesn’t wreck it because whoo boy he’d have to sell their entire home and probably his soul to pay that off), and once Shigeo says one final goodbye to Dimple and has given him a tight squeeze, they board the vehicle and disembark.

Shigeo sits in the passenger seat, facing forward, hands folded loosely in his lap. Arataka glances at him whenever he dares to look away from the road, keeping tabs on his posture. Things are never obvious when it comes to Shigeo; everything’s subtle, barely there, but noticeable if you take the time to look for it (and know what to look for).

Right now, Shigeo looks relaxed. Some of the tension in Arataka’s shoulders eases, too.

“So.” Arataka drums a finger against the steering wheel. “Snowball fights.”

“You’re going to beat me,” Shigeo replies, like he’d been called on in school to answer a question. “You’re better at stuff like that.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Arataka says, shaking his head. “I haven’t had a snowball fight since I was your age. That kind of puts us on a level playing field, doesn’t it?”

“Not really.”

He has. No idea how to talk to this kid. Which makes sense considering how short a time they’ve been together, but still. He really needs a guidebook for this sort of thing because he doesn’t fill the “parent” shoes very well at all.

Or would that be “shoe” because he’s a single father? What is he doing?

“Well, I’m sure we’ll have fun either way!” Arataka says finally, much more chipper than before. “It won’t be long now before we’re there. I’m surprised we haven’t seen any snow yet.”

“I’m sure we’ll see some soon,” Shigeo says hopefully, voice lighter than it’d been a second ago. Arataka’s smile grows wider, and he reaches over to ruffle Shigeo’s hair. No matter how the weekend actually turns out, he’s certain it’ll be fun. As long as they’ve got each other.

Except, it doesn’t actually snow. It just gets really, really cold.

Arataka parks the car in what seems like a safe spot for now, but the second he gets out of it he kind of wants to go back in. The wind drags icy fingernails across his cheeks and a shiver spirals down his spine. They’ve bundled up, at least, but still. They’re close to the ocean, close enough to hear it from where they’re standing, and while the air is fresh, it’s cool and crisp all the same and makes for an unpleasant tingle in the back of Arataka’s throat.

“Oh.” Shigeo looks up at the cloudy sky, standing beside Arataka with his scarf blowing gently in the breeze. His eyes are wide. “It isn’t snowing.”

Arataka feels a twinge of something in his gut. “Yeah, I know. Stupid weather report, steering us wrong… sorry, kiddo, we might just have to come up here some other ti—”

“What’s that?”

It’s now that Arataka realizes Shigeo isn’t looking up at the sky, but instead, up at something closer to the top of an incline, silhouetted against the sun filtering through the clouds. He squints.

“... I don’t know what that is. Maybe a lighthouse?”

“A lighthouse?” Shigeo looks spellbound. “I’ve never seen a lighthouse…”

Arataka shakes his head with a sigh. His breath fogs for a moment before vanishing into the air. “They’re not much to look at, honestly,” he says. “And as far as I know, that one’s not in operation anymore. You’d probably be disap—”

“Let’s go check it out!”

And before Arataka can finish his thought or even sputter out a “Huh?” Shigeo has taken off. Sprinting.

It leaves him dumbfounded, and then the dumbfoundedness leaves him. Blood returns to his stiff limbs, and he kicks off and runs, too.

“H-Hey, kid, wait up!”

“Come on!” Shigeo throws a smile over his shoulder, eyes gleaming. “If it gets too dark we won’t be able to find our way back!”

“Okayokayokay I get that, just—! Slow down—!”

Shigeo doesn’t slow down, and Arataka doesn’t shout for him again. Even though his lungs burn in protest and his throat is made raw by the ice in the air, he can’t help but smile. This is the first time Shigeo’s been this openly excited about something. He can’t mess this up.

“There it is! It’s right up ahead, look! Looklooklook!”

Arataka is so occupied with breathebreathebreathe for so long that Shigeo actually retraces his steps, just to grab him by the arm and haul him forward. Running is fine, but running uphill is a lot less fine. Nonetheless, Shigeo surprises Arataka yet again and drags him up closer to the lighthouse.

It isn’t a shadowy shape in the distance anymore. Now, it’s a towering pillar of stark white, with a concrete patio wrapped around it, a door, barred shut, and a rusted metal railing guided along the edge of the cement, overlooking the ocean on a precarious cliffside. The spot is abandoned, now, and not quite as glamorous as it’d once been, but he can imagine how it used to look.

“Oh, it’s amazing!” Shigeo gushes brightly, starting forward. He flattens his palm against the side of the lighthouse and looks all the way up toward the top, beaming. “Wow, I never thought they were this big… they’re so cool...”

Shigeo is so thrilled by the simple lighthouse that Arataka doesn’t even miss the snow anymore. He smiles and moves to stand beside Shigeo, following his gaze toward the top. He can’t see it at this angle, but he can imagine the lighthouse’s beams as they used to be, guiding ships to dock.

A thought strikes him.

“Hey, we should take a picture together!”

Shigeo rounds him, wide-eyed. “A picture?”

“Yes!” Arataka is already whipping out his phone, tugging off a glove with his teeth so he can use the screen. “Okay okay okay, hold on… oH NO FACECAM, NO FACECAM—okay okay, here we go, here we go! Let’s stand in front of the lighthouse, c’mon!”

He takes a knee and winds an arm around Shigeo’s shoulders, pulling him to his side with the phone held at arm’s length in front of them. Shigeo doesn’t even stiffen at the sudden motion, and instead moves as close as he can and puts on a smile for the camera that looks every bit as genuine as Arataka knows it is.

“Smile!” Arataka chirps. The phone focuses, Shigeo throws up a peace sign at the last second, and he takes the shot. With a click!, the photo is saved and the memory makes itself a special little home somewhere deep in Arataka’s heart. Regardless of the photo quality, this is one memory he’ll always cherish.

“Can I see?” Shigeo, still pressed against his side, peers closer.

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Arataka says, holding the phone out for him to see. “What do you think of that? That’s a good picture!”

Shigeo takes his time examining it, like he takes his time with everything, but before long his smile has returned with the sparkle in his eyes. “I love it!” he says, beaming.

Arataka’s heart seizes in his chest and god, if there’s one thing he’s learned about being a father, it’s that he absolutely loves it.

“Here, let’s take another one!” Arataka says, re-opening the camera. “A goofy one this time, make a silly face.”

“A silly face?” Shigeo asks, tilting his head to one side. “Like what?”

“Like this!”

Arataka pulls one.

Shigeo reaches out and taps Capture.

The result is.

Flattering.

Aratata chokes on something caught in between a snort and a sharp exhale. It’s not long before he’s laughing.

“Shigeo why—”

Shigeo snaps another one.

“OH MY GOD STOP, STOP—!”

Shigeo goes in for another one but Arataka is only slightly faster, pulling the phone his way just as Shigeo’s hands reach for it. Shigeo’s hand lands on his wrist. Arataka underestimated just how much he’d moved, and loses his balance and topples sideways; Shigeo, fingers curled around his wrist, is tugged off-balance as well, and they land in a crumpled heap on the cold cement.

Arataka’s shoulder throbs a little when he lands on it, but he can’t stop laughing, and Shigeo is giggling, too, arms around tight around his waist with Arataka’s arms still around his shoulders. The phone is on the ground, forgotten.

Still scant of breath, Arataka breathes, “Holy crap, kiddo…” and Shigeo laughs softly, tightening his hold. Arataka returns the favor, struggling to replenish his poor lungs. Except, the air doesn’t sting nearly as much as before. Or maybe he’s just stopped caring.

“... Oh, look.”

Shigeo moves first, pulling out of Arataka’s arms before he’s ready to let go. Arataka sits up beside him and is just about to ask what’s wrong, when he feels it against the tip of his nose. A flake.

Shigeo points up at the sky and Arataka follows his finger. “It’s snowing!”

“... Would you look at that.” Arataka smiles, leaning back with his palms pressed flat on the cement behind him. “It is...”

“Can we look at the ocean before we go?” Shigeo says, hands clasped together in his lap. “I know it’s getting late, but we’re so far from the city, and I’m sure the view is really pretty from all the way up here, s-so…”

Arataka takes in the atmosphere for another moment or so. “Are you cold, Shigeo?”

Shigeo shakes his head. “Not really, I’m okay. I’ll be alright for a little while longer, I think.”

“Well, if you’re sure you’re alright, then I don’t have a problem with it,” Arataka says, beaming, rising to his feet. “Here, though—” He unzips his jacket, shrugs it off. The wind bites a little deeper, but it’s not more than he can ignore, and he settles the jacket around Shigeo’s shoulders. “Wear this, alright?”

“O-Oh, a-are you sure?” Shigeo asks, hands coming to clutch it around his shoulders. “Y-You don’t have to, I’m really fine, honest.”

Arataka ruffles his hair. “S’alright, buddy,” he says, rising to his feet. “Don’t worry about me. I just wanna make sure you don’t catch a chill. C’mon, you wanted to see the ocean, didn’t you?”

Crisis forgotten, Shigeo nods eagerly and slips his hand into Arataka’s. With a squeeze of his fingers, they round the lighthouse, along the edge near the guardrail, until the mountain is behind them and the ocean is before them. As far as the eye can see, off the edge of the cliffside, the water stretches like a great, sparkling blanket. The current is relaxed. There aren’t any crashing waves, no storm on the horizon. Only the snow, the lighthouse, the ocean, and them.

Arataka wishes he could bottle this feeling. The wind an icy chill against his skin, the sunbeams warm and bright, Shigeo’s hand in his, the ocean as it rolls like gentle pastures. He wishes he could bottle this contentment, this warmth, this light.

It’s been hell for the both of them, but suffice to say, every step of the way has been worth it. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“... The ocean’s really pretty,” Shigeo says, stepping forward closer to the railing. He lets go of Arataka’s hand, whether or not he means to. “Do you think we’ll see any seagulls?”

“Maybe, who knows?” Arataka steps up beside him, ignoring the bite of cold against his skin. It’s a little worse, now. They probably shouldn’t stay much longer. “It might be a little cold out for them, but you never know.”

Shigeo hums with a small nod, eyes glued to the sky, and Arataka leans on the guardrail to look out into the ocean.

In hindsight, he should’ve stayed as far away from that guardrail as he possibly could. He shouldn’t have let Shigeo anywhere near it, let alone lean on it himself. It’s precarious no matter how you look at it. There’s nothing good about the guardrail. Rusted, old, even broken in parts.

He doesn’t think about that, though.

He leans on it.

It snaps.

The ground isn’t beneath him anymore. The ocean is.

From a distance, he hears Shigeo’s voice shout his name, an octave higher than Arataka’s ever heard it before. The wind had nipped at him before, but it tears through him now like the talons on an animal, every slash a deep, penetrating wound that seeps through every ounce of his body. The ocean is coming at him. He tastes salt.

Somehow, he rightens himself. Somehow, he thinks about how he should land. Somehow, he thinks about the diving he’d done in high school, and he brings his limbs close, tight against his body, he puts his palms over his head, he—