Chapter Text
“There are no records of him,” Nirei is saying, his voice tinny through Haruka’s phone. “Not in our database, any past police reports, or any online forums; we’ve asked around among the townsfolk too, but they’ve also drawn a blank.”
“What about CCTV cameras?” Haruka asks, despite already knowing the answer.
“There were none in that alley,” Nirei says.
Haruka grunts, pressing his hand on the glass container separating him from the little, broken baby he had dug out from the dumpster. Listed on the patient information tag, attached to the railing of the bassinet that the baby lies on, is the name John Doe.
Across from Haruka, Suo is crouched next to one of the four round openings surrounding the container. His slender right hand is carefully reaching inside, gently patting the baby’s tiny, borderline concave stomach, his touch feather-light; barely pressing down on the pale, purple mottled skin, if at all.
The baby is horribly small. Clearly, dangerously malnourished. Bruised and battered. He’s attached to an IV drip, and a bunch of other tubes that make Haruka’s chest tense uncomfortably.
At the very least, the baby’s eyes had been cleaned of the yellow gunk that had sealed them shut. But he hasn’t been able to open them yet, still healing from infection.
“We’ll continue investigating,” Nirei is saying reassuringly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more of a help.”
“It’s fine,” Haruka says.
They talk for a few more minutes before Haruka hangs up, sliding his phone in his pocket. He stares down at John Doe’s scrunched little face, his fingers splaying across the glass box.
His hand.
The baby’s whole head is the size of his hand.
Quiet footsteps pad towards Haruka. Then, suddenly, warm, lithe arms wind around Haruka’s waist, hugging him from behind. Another weight presses against his shoulder comfortably.
“Haruka-kun,” Suo’s gentle voice rings through the air. “Visiting hours are almost over.”
“...right,” Haruka says. He’s still staring at the baby.
“We can come tomorrow,” Suo says soothingly. “After work.”
“But patrols—”
Suo kisses Haruka’s cheek. “The Furin kids can handle themselves for the day. A couple weeks, even.”
“Right,” Haruka says.
At work the next day, Haruka’s body is on autopilot.
He greets customers. He brews tea and drip coffee. He makes iced and hot lattes and macchiatos and americanos. He cooks omelets and omurice and other simple dishes on Cafe Pothos’ menu. He cleans. On his break, he downs a quad shot of iced espresso. He shakes, a little, from the high concentrations of caffeine.
He doesn’t normally drink coffee.
He keeps thinking about the baby. Keeps counting down the hours for four in the afternoon to hit, for when Kotoha will come and cover the rest of his shift so that he can head over to the hospital. Suo will meet him there, right after spending some time grading essays. If the Furin kids demand for an impromptu sparring session (read: lesson) from Suo, then he’ll take even longer.
Haruka feels weirdly anxious, going alone to see the baby.
He’s never been around kids before, beyond the extent of saving them. He’s never really been around babies much before, beyond the one time he had visited Umemiya at the orphanage he takes care of.
He doesn’t remember much from the visit, other than how weirdly off-put he’d felt, standing in the nursery and hovering around the small, pudgy, pink-faced things. They’re almost nothing like the baby from the dumpster, who’s even smaller, barely a lick of fat clinging onto his little bird bones, and worryingly pale—
Making the yellowing, purple bruises on his skin stand out all the more strongly.
“You seem like you have a lot on your mind.”
Haruka jolts. He looks up, seeing Kotoha standing across from him, on the other side of the cafe counter.
Kotoha co*cks her head at him when he doesn’t respond. “Date didn’t go well?”
“We didn’t have it,” Haruka says stiffly.
Kotoha hums, crossing her arms. “What kind of mess did you guys get yourself in this time?”
Haruka grunts. He glances up at the clock across the room. It’s five minutes past four. “Are you covering for me or what?”
Kotoha sighs. She outstretches her hand. Haruka hurriedly takes off his apron, handing it to her to throw in the laundry bin in the back.
“Thanks,” Haruka says.
“How much longer is he going to be here for?” Haruka asks the nurse who’d walked into the hospital room a few minutes ago, quietly drawing blood samples from the sleeping baby. Haruka has been in the hospital room for an hour already. He’d spent most of it standing by the hospital bassinet, his mismatched eyes trained on the slow rise and fall of the little baby’s chest.
“It’s hard to say,” the nurse says, discarding the needle and setting her sample aside. “He’s really malnourished. We want to observe him for the next few weeks. He’s so young, you know. And he looks so—” she stops, sighing. “I can’t believe anyone would do this to a baby.”
Haruka scowls darkly, at the reminder.
“...how old is he?”
“We estimate around seven and a half weeks.”
Seven and a half weeks.
The tiny baby is barely two months old.
Haruka swallows thickly. “Has anyone… has anyone come by for him?”
“No, Sakura-san,” the nurse says. “It’s only been you and your husband.”
The nurse quietly excuses herself, then, leaving Haruka with the sleeping baby. He stares at him for several minutes, before he finds himself walking around the hospital bassinet, towards a round opening.
He thinks about the day before. About the way Suo had gently pushed his arm inside the container; the way his slender hands had so delicately patted the baby’s bare stomach rhythmically, his red eye tender and gentle.
Thinks about the way Suo had smiled at the baby, the line of his mouth soft.
He’d be a good parent, Haruka thinks.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Haruka-kun,” Suo says. “Were you waiting for long?”
Haruka shakes his head.
Suo walks towards the bassinet and stands beside Haruka, his hands neatly pressed behind his back. He peers down at the quietly breathing baby.
“It seems like all he does is sleep,” Suo says, his voice light and airy.
“It’s not like he can open his eyes right now,” Haruka points out, staring down at the baby’s thick, delicate eyelashes. “They said it’s gonna take a few days, maybe a week before he can.”
Suo wraps an arm around the small of Haruka’s back, leaning against Haruka’s side. “What colour do you think his eyes are?”
Haruka shrugs. “Brown? Most people’s are.”
Suo reaches up with his free hand, swiping a thumb across Haruka’s cheekbone. “Not yours.” He points at his own red eye. “Not mine, either.”
Haruka grunts, biting down a we’re not exactly normal. Haruka’s appearance, particularly, is odd. He hasn’t personally met many people whose eyes are different colours.
Suo stares at Haruka’s face carefully. Then, “I think he has your eyes.”
“What?”
“He fought hard until you found him,” Suo says, his voice gentle but firm. “You fought hard until we found you, too.”
We, meaning Bofurin. Meaning Kotoha. Meaning the townspeople.
Meaning Suo Hayato.
Slowly, Suo swipes his thumb downwards, across the corner of Haruka’s mouth. His blunt nail digs gently into Haruka’s lower lip, poking at the small hole he’d helped Haruka pierce years ago, when Kiryu had dared him to get a lip ring.
Suo had loved it, even when the ring cut his tongue whenever they’d make out.
“It’s only natural he’d have fire in his eyes, just like yours did,” Suo continues, leaning forward.
He kisses Haruka, sweetly.
Then, against his lips, barely above a whisper, “Just like yours still do.”
The next time Haruka visits, Suo is by his side. Suo sits on the visitor’s chair closest to the baby’s hospital bassinet. Haruka moves to sit on the seat next to him, but Suo’s strong, slender fingers wrap around his wrists, stopping him.
Haruka turns to him, disgruntled. Glares, when Suo smiles back at him, patting his lap.
“No,” Haruka says.
Suo co*cks his head. “Why not?”
“There’s another seat right there.”
Suo pats his lap again. “You’ll like this one more.”
“No.”
“But I’m so cold, Haruka-kun.” Suo says, and Haruka scoffs; the other man is wearing a long-sleeved button up shirt and a thick blue cardigan. It’s Haruka who should be cold, dressed in only a white t-shirt and dark wash jeans.
He had, again, forgotten his usual jacket at the cafe.
Decidedly uncaring of Haruka’s withering stare, Suo opens his arms. “Warm me up?”
Haruka’s face burns red. “Are you a baby?”
“I’m your b—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
Suo laughs. He crosses one leg over the other, his hands folded neatly over his lap. “You’re so shy, Haruka-kun. It’s so cute.”
Haruka’s eye twitches. “Don’t call me cute.”
“Sure,” Suo says, not missing a beat. “You’re so handsome—”
Haruka huffs. “You—”
A weak, but sharp cry suddenly pierces through the room.
In sync, Haruka and Suo immediately hurry towards the hospital bassinet, squinting down at the container.
Behind the glass, the little baby is sobbing, his face red and scrunched up, like he’d eaten a particularly sour lemon. His eyes are screwed shut, large, fussy tears pouring down soft, pudgy cheeks, dripping onto the thin bedsheets underneath him.
Haruka’s hand starts wandering towards the call button hanging from the railing of the bassinet, intending to get hold of a nurse.
He stops when he sees Suo kneeling in front of a round opening. Watches quietly as Suo’s arm reaches in; as Suo’s hand gently, gently starts patting the baby’s mottled, trembling stomach.
As Suo starts humming.
Within minutes, the baby’s cries stutter into slow, heavy breathing. It’s still a bit frantic, but is a drizzle compared to the storm that it had been.
“Haruka-kun,” Suo says softly. “Come here.”
Haruka silently crouches next to Suo, in front of the other opening.
“Pat his chest,” Suo quietly instructs.
Haruka stares at his husband. Then at his hand.
The baby is so small. What if he hurts—
“Haruka-kun.” Haruka turns back towards his husband, who smiles at him reassuringly. “It’ll be okay. He’ll like it.”
Swallowing, Haruka complies. Slowly, slowly he reaches his own hand into the other opening. Carefully, he lets his hand fall over the baby’s frail chest, conscious of the bruises peeking out between his ribs.
Pat.
Pat.
Pat.
Underneath his trembling fingers, the baby’s breathing slows. Steadies.
Beside him, Suo starts humming again.
