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In a simple neighbourhood, by a simple sidewalk, is a simple house. Hidden behind a sturdy oak fencing, and a carefully tended garden, it stands there, giving away none of its history. Moss spreads and grows in between the little indents in the stone foundation, creeping onto the stairs and trailing up until the handrails. There are flowers under the gutters, there are flowers in pots and flowers settled against the open windows, leaning towards the sun. Toward the side of the wooden house there is a path. Lining the pebbled path are plant beds with shining red tomatoes and carrots, discarded gardening tools find themselves buried in the dirt, or beside the hose. Following the path towards the back of the house is where Quincy finds himself one morning, walking towards the noise of two pairs of feet, pairs he is well acquainted with, and the sound of laughter, with a cup of black coffee in one hand, and a backpack in the other. It is at the end of the path that he pauses. He watches everything bathed in gold, the blues and whites of the sky reflected in messy puddles, and his eyes fix upon the two suns in his life, and for not the first time, he wonders how he got here.
Life is good. He’s been good, he thinks. A lifetime ago, his life was all cheesy leather pants and bitter smoke and cheap whiskey. The sound of a microphone screeching in his ears. Heavy bass and electric guitars. One day, he walked away, and that was it. No more waking up to foreign ceilings and distant beds. No more riding fast across far flung parts of the country. No more bands, no more chains. Then a few months after, he caught a scrawny thing that was more bone than boy stealing from a local grocery. It wasn’t any of his business, but he still put the money on the counter, he still went into that alleyway and brought him home. He fed him, and in the way strays adopt owners, the boy kept coming back. Months later, he found himself pushing a cart full of kiddie pudding, cereal and bacon at the very same grocery, with Topper carefully placed on his broad shoulders, pulling and tugging at his hair. Quincy’s wallet felt a little lighter that day, but his heart felt full.
So many things have changed.
He works as a PE teacher now.
He has flowers and plants and life growing in his home now.
He’s a dad now.
“Quincy, Good morning!”
Quincy responds with a grunt, lifting his eyes to the warm glow of Eiden’s face. He busies himself with his coffee, shuffling the backpack straps around his shoulders. Topper immediately starts running at him, all flushed chubby cheeks and round eyes, arms spread and smiling lopsidedly. For a second, that precious little second, Topper and Eiden’s smiles were one in the same. “Da!” Topper squeaked, crashing onto one of Quincy’s sturdy legs and clinging on tight.
“Topper, careful!” Eiden chided, but he leaned down to ruffle his fluffy white hair. “Did any coffee spill on ya?” He asks, the question addressed to Quincy.
“Nn.” Quincy raises his hand, subtly bringing the mug closer to Eiden as if to confirm its contents to the man. The fact that his tracksuit was clean helped too. “I’m off to work.”
“Leaving us alone so early? That’s a shame –” Eiden laughed, “Me and Topper will be having fun allll day!”
Topper cheered, running circles around Quincy’s legs before barrelling into Eiden’s embrace, tiny fists digging into the cottony soft apron tied around Eiden’s waist. Playfully, Eiden spun around, which caused Topper to erupt into giggles.
Quincy feels light on his feet, and a certain warmth fills his tired bones. It must be the coffee.
Checking his watch, Quincy squats down and offers his son a hug, one that Topper returns with twice as much eagerness. “Alright. Call me anytime. Are we having takeout tonight?”
“I’ll cook tonight.” Eiden answered, then he seemed to remember something.
“Wait, did you get your bento from the kitchen?”
“Ah. I forgot.”
“That’s fine, let’s head inside for a bit. You can make some time for some actual breakfast that’s not coffee for once.”
Pot, kettle. Quincy thinks, having witnessed the man do the exact same thing. Despite this, he obediently follows Eiden up the stairs to the backdoor, carrying his son in his arms.
He follows him to the small kitchen and the equally small table, with the only three sets of plates and utensils they have. Quincy never found a reason to buy more, it wasn’t like he had any (wanted) guests to entertain. It was just him, Topper and Eiden.
Quincy’s best joy in life is being a father. That would never change. But it doesn’t change the fact that parenting is hard. Being there for Topper every single hour of the day wasn’t possible, even if Quincy wished it was. That was the agony of a parent – there were little missed moments, little memories that got away, because life gets busy. He needs to work, needs to put food on the table, train the school’s varsity and watch over them. It’s funny, sometimes he feels like he takes care of other people’s kids more than his own, and that thought haunts him at night.
Then, in the same way Quincy left his old life, he found something new by walking away to take a short break. It was meant to be a short walk – then there was Eiden. Cosied up in his tacky blue jacket stained with coffee and paint stains that could never be washed off, carrying his sketchbooks and journals, rushing in the opposite direction Quincy was headed. They crashed, they fell, and in the end Quincy made the acquaintance of this loud, interesting wisp of a man, and left with a new name in his contacts and a silent understanding between the both of them that they’d find each other again.
Whenever he could, he would take the long walk home, he’d find Eiden there, still in that ridiculously baggy jacket. Eiden would paint him a picture of his life – little experiences with his co-workers, commissions in his spare time, a growing portfolio, a growing crowd of people seeing his work, and all his succulents he’s affectionately named, each name growing increasingly more insane and eccentric than the last. They would part ways by a traffic light, parting ways but never saying goodbye. Tomorrow, they would meet again, and Quincy would hear more about new projects at the marketing firm Eiden works at or the comics and illustrations he’s been working on.
Topper got sick one day, and it was all Quincy could think about. The worry added onto the little pile of worries that weighed on Quincy’s shoulders. Topper wasn’t getting along well with the other kids. Topper had a hard time connecting with other people. Topper was every bit of Quincy’s son, quiet and withdrawn. And Quincy hated it, because he wasn’t enough, he wasn’t a good dad, he wasn’t good with kids, he doesn’t want his son to grow up to be him –
Eiden leaned against Quincy’s shoulder, and the world felt lighter.
“I’ll help you take care of him.”
He said it as if it was such a simple thing. It felt like it was simple. Because one day Eiden wasn’t in their lives, and then it felt like he had always been there.
Topper adored Eiden, and evidently, Eiden adored him back. In lieu of photo albums, Quincy had heavy stacks of illustrations and sketches of Topper. The little moments he feared he would miss. Eiden would make little comics of events that had happened throughout the day. Things like Topper making a mess out of the watercolour set for kids that Eiden bought or Topper chasing birds.
Life is good. Quincy wakes up and he’s at peace with life, hearing Eiden and Topper’s presence in his home.
“Quincyyy, oi, Quinccyyyy –”
Quincy sighs as Eiden starts to wave his hands in exaggerated motions close to Quincy’s face. Eiden rocks back on one foot, placing his hands on his waist once he realised he had gotten Quincy’s attention. “You haven’t taken a single bite of your omelette, are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
“Mhmm.”
“Mhmm.” Eiden imitated, lowering the pitch of his voice comically. He scrunched his brows in a deep furrow and tried, in vain, to copy the deadpan look on Quincy’s face without cracking up.
Topper was delighted by this. Quincy was not.
“You’re a horrible influence.”
“I don’t know what you mean~”
“Little devil.”
Eiden gasped and covered Topper’s ears, but the damage was already too late.
“Little devil, little devil!~” Topper repeated, to Eiden’s horror and Quincy’s amusement.
“Aaaah!!! Topper, don’t listen to your dad!”
“Li-ttle de-vil.” Quincy enunciated monotonously, but the teasing lilt to his voice was not lost on Eiden, who’s been the victim of Quincy’s occasional bullying.
“Little devil!”
Eiden slumped into his chair in defeat.
“ – and you call me a bad influence.”
Quincy quietly bites down on an omelette, both father and son exchanging victorious looks from across the table.
This is good. Life hasn’t been so troublesome these days.
In a simple neighbourhood, by a simple sidewalk, is a simple house, where breakfast continues on with Eiden’s lively account of his plans for the day and small talk that Quincy keeps in mind, taking in everything silently. I’ll check the bookstore if they have that manga in stock. Eiden’s craving melon pan, I’ll pass by the bakery later. While I’m there, I’ll get Topper something too. Quincy mentally adds those to his to-do list, placing his dirty dishes by the sink.
He kisses Topper’s forehead and fixes his shoelaces, leaning against the door as he looks for where Eiden had gone. He found him by the kitchen counter, re-wrapping a white green-striped bento. Eiden smiled, and just then, the light peeking through the window danced on his dewy skin.
Quincy opened his mouth to speak, but found his voice winded, as if someone had landed a great devastating punch on his soul. “I’ll be off then.”
“Wait!” Eiden called out, hurrying over to the door with Topper in tow. He took Quincy’s larger hand in his own, placing the lovingly made bento into his open palm. With Eiden’s hands brushing over his own, Quincy couldn’t help but notice the bump on Eiden’s ring finger. An artist bump. They lingered there for a while, reluctant to say farewell. “Ah, there…there you go. Geez, imagine if you forgot your bento again!”
“Hmm. There’s a cafeteria.”
“Nothing compares to home cooking and you know it!”
The sound of a bus interrupted them, and Quincy cleared his throat. “...I’ll be late. I’m going now.”
“Yeah, me and Topper have kept you enough.”
Eiden carried Topper into his arms and they both waved at Quincy as he got closer and closer to the bus.
He took a chance to glance back at them, squinting his eyes through the haze of the morning sun. Yet, Quincy’s eyes remained fixed on his own source of light, a pair of smiles distantly beaming at him from the open doorway.
“Dad, I love you!” Topper yelled, waving his hands in the air. “Bye bye dada!”
“Bye, Quincy! Take care of yourself!”
Quincy waved back at them. Giving the driver the usual fare, he settled into one of the seats at the back and stared at Topper and Eiden until he could only imagine a distant vision of them as the bus moved further and further away. He closed his eyes and sighed.
This is good. Having a home to return to is good.
Quincy ended up falling asleep.
Klein Academy is not exempt from gossiping and speculating amongst students and staff alike. Whether it be from nosy students or curious teachers and faculty members, several points of discussion came up in conversations frequently. (1.) There’s a lounge hidden at the back of the library with a water dispenser and a coffee machine. It was meant for teachers, but when students had come upon it, it became common for a few to sneak in for a cup of coffee to get through the school day. (2.) Principal Aster and his secretary Morvay are in a relationship, despite the loud bickering and heated exchanges that they have subjected the entire student body to. Morvay came to school wearing a ring, light and chipper on his feet, and the principal was then spotted with a matching ring. Everyone can say that they are happy for the pair, even if their ears are perpetually bombarded by their incessant arguing. And, on the topic of romance, (3.) Coach Quincy is normally quiet and withdrawn, but in conversations regarding his child and an elusive ‘Eiden’, his eyes would gleam, and there was a certain life in him as he shared bits and pieces of stories with his students and co-workers.
It was precious enough for Coach Quincy to offer more than a single sentence or two. It was only on occasion, and when the topic of his son was brought up, that he would smile and engage in short conversation. This is the nature of parents, after all. No parent can resist the spark of pride and fondness when speaking about one's own children. While no one had ever seen ‘Topper’, they knew that he was adopted, and that he was five and learning how to read. He has white hair and black eyes and his favourite food is meat and Eiden’s cooking.
“Um, coach!” One of the students dared to ask, “The person who makes your bentos, is it this ‘Eiden’ person?”
To the surprise of her and her peers, Quincy’s lips twitched into a slight smile. “Yes.” he answered, “My son and I are the same. Eiden’s cooking is my favourite too.”
“That’s so cute, sir!~” One of the students gushed, “Your bentos always look so good too.”
“Mhmm. Want to see?”
The class jumped up and excitedly crowded around Quincy as he carefully unwrapped the handkerchief. He lifted the lid, tilting the container slightly to show the contents within it to his students. That day, Eiden shredded some cabbage over rice mixed with seaweed and tuna, sliced two cherry tomatoes and made a crispy tonkatsu and tamagoyaki to go with the rice. Quincy closed it, with that ever rare slight smile still on his face. “It’s always good. I like it.”
“My mom makes bentos for me too!”
“My dad is really good at making sandwiches and salads.”
“Coach, you’re really lucky – ‘cus you don’t gotta eat the cafeteria food, y’know?”
“Yes, I know.” Quincy nodded. “I’m very lucky.”
It was also a known fact among the staff that these bentos were always packaged with little cards, post it notes or letters that Quincy would store in his wallet to occasionally look at, or at his desk where they were on display. When Quincy was gone, the teachers would curiously peer over and read them.
‘Don’t fall asleep at work, Quincy!”
‘Topper and I are always with you and cheering you on ✩!! ’
‘Quincy, thinking of you always, fight on!!!’
‘Did you like your lunch today? I made it with love ♡’
‘Come home safe today, I’ll make your favourite.’
Some of them had small doodles like stars and smiley faces. When Quincy would look at them, it seemed like a bit of weariness and tiredness would be removed and replaced with some determination, as Quincy looked over the results of his student’s fitness tests and performance. On the field, when he was tired and sleepy, Quincy would just reach into his pocket, let his eyes rest on one of those short little notes, and he would push through with a new found strength.
Presently, Quincy was looking for a spot to eat. Normally, he would eat in the faculty room or the lounge, but both areas felt too crowded for him today. He wandered the school grounds for a while and, in a split moment decision, hastened his pace towards a secluded area with benches right across the football field.
A puff of air sharply left his lips as a sudden cold blast of wind caused the greenery to sway harshly. Eiden informed him of his plan to take Topper to the park today, but it seemed that the weather wasn’t agreeing with them today. Quincy’s familiar with which park they were going to – it’s somewhat close by, around fifteen minutes from the campus if Quincy ran there. He wonders if Eiden remembered to bring an umbrella.
He shuffled through the bushy paths until he found the small gazebo tucked away at the back. The stairs creaked in complaint as he made his way inside the enclosed space. It was clear that the structure had been left to age, as vines dangled down from the ceiling, and a fine layer of dirt covered Quincy’s palm as he patted down a place to sit. There was a circular table, on which Quincy placed his lunch, untying the knot holding the handkerchief together and letting it lay down flat like a makeshift placemat.
Moments passed by, until Quincy heard the tell-tale pattering and the scent of rain and grass. Instead of reaching for his chopsticks, he grabbed his phone instead and immediately tapped on the icon at the very top of his contacts.
[Calling: Little Devil 8️⃣ ]
“Quincy? Hey, Quincy!”
Eiden’s voice crackled over the phone, mixing with background noise and muffled music.
“It’s raining. It might get heavier later.” Quincy said, “Are you and Topper at the park?”
“Nah. We were earlier though. I decided to take Topper to the mall to get something to eat, then it started pouring outside. I was thinking that we might as well get some grocery shopping done. Oh, did you want anything? – Woa-woah!”
There’s shuffling over the line, as well as muted words that Quincy barely managed to catch over the line. Something to the effect of ‘Okay, okay!’ and ‘Here…lemme just…’
“Daaaaad! I’m with Ei, we went to the mall!”
“Hnn. I know. Hi, Topper.”
“We ate, um, chi - chim - chee…”
“Chicken?”
“Uh-huh! And gra-gray-gravy and fries, and Ei ate with me!”
“...That’s good, I’m just about to eat lunch.” Quincy put the phone on speaker mode and placed it on the table. He gave himself time to chew before adding – “Tell Eiden it’s good.”
Quincy can imagine Eiden squatting down to Topper’s level, or maybe he’s lifted Topper up to his shoulders. Either way, he can hear him say ‘Awww, tell your dad I said thank you~’ in the background when Topper relayed the message (Rather loudly. He would wonder where Topper got all his volume from, if he didn’t know exactly he got that from.)
“Ei said thank you!”
“Mhmm.”
“Dada, what’re you doing?”
“Eating. What about you two, what are you doing now?”
Topper paused. ‘Ei, what are we doing?’ He asked, lowering his voice to a clear whisper.
Quincy pretended he didn’t hear.
Eiden similarly played along, whispering in a comically loud and playful way, ‘Groceries. We’re gonna get groceries.’
“Um, we’re getting groceries.”
“Alright. What are you going to buy?”
“Oh, oh! I want jelly, and pancakes, and ham, and –”
Quincy listened quietly as he continued eating lunch. By the time he was done eating, his son cheerfully talked about what he wanted at the store, what he and Eiden did at the park today, and that he had done his homework for school tomorrow.
“I’m glad you’re having fun, I’m proud of you, Topper.”
“Hehe! Thank youu!”
“Hey lil buddy,” Eiden whispered softly, “Can I talk to your dad for a bit?”
“Oki, it’s your turn with dada now!”
Some shuffling again, and then Quincy could hear Eiden’s voice over the line. “Hey, Quincy. I’m paying for all the stuff now. You sure you don’t want anything?”
“Nothing I can think of.”
“Alrighhtt~”
“What do you plan on doing after paying for the groceries?”
“Hmm, well, I forgot to do some chores earlier, so I might just head back home.”
Quincy frowned. “...It’s my turn today. You two can stay at the mall, then we can go home together after I get off work.”
“Ehhh, what would I even do here though?”
“You have my card. You mentioned some things you wanted to buy a few days ago, so just get them while you’re there.”
Quincy’s already finished packing up and he started to walk back to the main school building. It’s good timing, since he can see the students who spent their break on the field start to walk back to class as well.
“But, ah – It’s okay, I should have enough money next payday. I don’t wanna spend your money on things that aren’t for Topper.”
“If it’s for you, it counts as Topper’s too.”
“...Huh?”
“Topper’s happy when you’re happy.”
“Quincy…”
“Stubborn little devil, go treat yourself to something.” Quincy insisted, “...Go to the bookstore. I checked in with the owner and bought that manga you were talking about. I wasn’t able to pick it up, but you should be able to.”
“Really!? Seriously!? Haha, oh my god, I’ve been looking for that volume everywhere! How much did it cost, I’ll pay you ba–”
“No.”
“But –”
“There’s nothing to repay.” He said firmly, “You’re a part of Topper and I.”
“...” Eiden sighed softly.
“You’re the one who’s stubborn, Let, let me win…for once…”
Quincy smiled. “Never.”
In such little time, he managed to make it to the main building’s covered court, where the varsity were already lounging around, doing stretches, drinking water, running around, or playing around with the sports equipment.
“...Lunch is over. I’ll have to get back to work in a few minutes.”
“O-okay!”
Eiden’s little flustered squeak gave away what he must look like right now. He would get like this sometimes – taken by an out-of-character meekness, a garden of roses blooming on his cheeks. Quincy’s lips curl, if only slightly.
“...I have to go, but I meant what I said. The three of us can go home together. Wait for me.”
“We’ll be right here. Topper, your dad’s picking us up later. Wanna say bye bye?”
“BYE BYE DADAAAA–” The boy yanked Eiden’s arm down and yelled into phone, “I LOVE YOUUU!!”
“I love you too, Topper.”
“Ei, Ei!” Topper whispered, “Say I love you too!”
“E-eh!? Topper –”
“DAD, EI LOVES YOU TOO!”
“WHA – O-oi, Topper!”
Something fluttered in his chest, startling out a short, loud guffaw from Quincy. His eyes crinkled and formed into crescents as he smiled down at the screen.
“Mhmm. Okay. I love Eiden too.”
Eiden’s flustered squawking and Topper’s cheerful shout were both cut off as the call ended. Quincy pocketed his phone, but he couldn’t shake off the tingling joy that danced in his pulse.
He belatedly realised that the sky was clear. He didn’t get soaked by any rain while walking back.
It’s bright outside, actually.
(Every student and teacher has found a new topic to fixate on. (4.) ‘Eiden’ is Topper’s other parent, and Coach Quincy is capable of laughing after all.)
The garden gives Eiden a sense of peace. Quincy is at work, Topper is at school, and he is all alone within the small world that makes up the little garden in their backyard. He watches a snow white butterfly landing on the flames of a red flower, relaxing even under the unbearable heat of the sun. Life tingled in the air, tantalisingly near. His work is flexible, allowing him to work at home, with the requirement of reporting to work only once or twice a month, and it gives him more time for moments like this. An ease fills out his joints as he revels in the petrichor, the fresh blades of grass plush against his bare feet, and the sound of loose papers rustling with much effort to fly away from this little place, only held back by a cheap, charming paperweight Eiden purchased from a novelty store.
Art. It’s a funny thing, he thinks. When he was younger he enjoyed the finery of it, the whole pageantry. He’s lost hours to the meticulous work of bringing an ideal of beauty to life, imitating the clean, godly perfection his teachers admired. But his hours only produced a few pieces, and they were just that. Graphite in the imitation of human life. It’s only now that he realises that they were too clean and pretty to be human. Mess is the beauty of the human soul. Over the past few months, Eiden has drawn more than he’s ever drawn in his life, and when he looks at his work he can hear the laughter, the clattering plates, the coffee machine whirring to life – the mess of it all. Something has changed. These meaningless things have been given meaning. There is life all around him and he has never felt so happy. Eiden sees Quincy and Topper, and suddenly he sees the wonder and joy in the world that he’s always longed to see.
Art needs life to have meaning. It’s like what the moon means to the sun, what the gods were to their people, and what Quincy is to Eiden.
Eiden doesn’t realise how lost he was in his thoughts until he hears the wooden gate’s hinges creak with age, and a pair of slow footsteps scratch against the pebbled path.
“Quincy?” Eiden called out unsurely.
“Oh, no, dear.” A woman laughed, “I’m Yakumo’s grandmother.”
“Yakumo,” A meek little boy a year older than Topper. He’s adorable and round like a red bean mochi; he’s sweet like one too. It surprised Eiden the first time Topper introduced him to his friend, but now he makes sure to pack an extra snack or two. “Ah! Yes, please come in, ma’am! Let me help you – here, take a seat, please.”
“Thank you, it’s always so lovely to see you, dear boy.”
“I’m happy to see that you’re doing well. Would you like me to get us some drinks?”
“No, no, there’s no need for that.” She waved her hand, “Is this old woman bothering you? You seemed to be in quite a state.”
Eiden shook his head, “You? Never a bother, ma’am. And well – what do you mean by that?”
“You looked very happy. Did something good happen?”
“I was thinking of Topper and Quincy,” He giggled, “That – that makes sense, then. They make me very happy.”
“Oh, I know the feeling. I’m always thinking of my Yakumo and my husband.”
“How are they, these days?”
“As good as ever,” Yakumo’s grandmother replied, “It doesn’t stop me from worrying about them, though. What about your family?”
Your family. Eiden swayed his legs alternately, each giddy kick brushing the grass beneath him lightly. He couldn’t help smiling; a smile which he hid behind his palm.
“You know, Topper’s been going ham with that new pack of crayons I got him. He hasn’t used any other colours other than blue, green and pink. He told me – ‘green is for dad, blue is for Ei, and pink is for me!’ and he’s quite an artist. Yesterday, we had fun doodling something for Quincy before he had to leave for work. It was so cute! I had Quincy send a picture of it to me. He’s gotten into a habit lately – Quincy, I mean – of sending pictures to me throughout the day. He said his students told him to say hi to me for them, and he took a picture of them! Quincy’s surprisingly knowledgeable about flowers and trees, too. I have a bunch of pictures of random plants and fauna in my gallery now, but I don’t want to delete them. He knows flower language, can you believe it? It’s useful too, since he knows a lot of useful ointments and mixtures and stuff that make Topper feel better when he’s sore, or when he gets scrapes from running around too much. Um, wait – I’m rambling, huh?”
The old woman listened with some relief and content, her lips parted in awe and her eyes warm with understanding. She saw herself in the lilt of his voice, the excited moving of his hands, and the silly curve of his grin. She knew then that her worries were for nothing, and her anxiousness was replaced with happiness. “You’ve brought this old woman so much joy. Children talk, you know. Topper loves you very much. He told me that you would look a little sad and lonely everytime Quincy left, and I was worried for you. So this old woman came here.”
Eiden gasped, “Lonely? No, no, I’m –” but he couldn’t bring himself to say a lie, no matter how white or how half true it was, “I’m not sad. I just miss Quincy sometimes. I understand, he’s busy and he’s tired, y’know? I see him everyday but there just never seems to be enough time. I want to spend more time with him, other than breakfast and dinner and the rare times he gets to join me and Topper and – ahh, this sounds so stupid! I should be happy just getting to see him…”
“...Not stupid.”
“GAAAAAAHHHHHH!????”
Spooked, Eiden jolted out of his seat, but was caught by a strong, careful hand scooping him by the waist.
“Qui-Quincyy?? Eh? Wai-wait a moment, shouldn’t you be…?”
“...I just went to tell them that I’d be absent for a while.”
“Huh?”
Yakumo’s grandmother smiled, undeterred by the noise. She clapped her hands excitedly and beamed. “Yakumo has been excited about having a friend over. It’ll be a delight to look after Little Topper for a week.I hope you two enjoy your vacation.”
Eiden’s jaw dropped and he gaped up at Quincy’s calm expression. Given Eiden’s shocked silence, Quincy bowed his head slightly. “I…I haven’t had the time since they both…blessed my life so…thank you.”
Quickly, Eiden turned red, his cheeks colouring with heat. “I’m kind of lost, this is so short notice.”
“Your young man wanted to surprise you.” She teased cheekily. Quincy flushed with a more subtle colour, averting his eyes from the both of them. “Now, I’ll be off. Mr. Quincy, I have your number, so don’t you worry, you can call me anytime and I’ll be sure to tell you all about your little one. Goodbye!”
“Mhmm. Stay safe.”
“Um, thank you!” Eiden called out, still a little confused. “You and your family should come for dinner some time!”
“Oh, we surely will!”
After seeing her safely turn the corner down the street, Eiden turned an inquisitive gaze at Quincy. The man had been quiet for a while, his brow furrowing with something ferocious.
“Quincy?”
Quincy gave a silent affirmation, his features smoothening out to their usual stoicness. He looked handsome, having changed into a more casual outfit than the sports wear Eiden had seen him in this morning. There’s some stubble along his sharp jaw and his hair framed his face softly with messy tangles of dirty blond. Eiden’s fingers itch. An urge to hold his pencil, and an urge to feel the comfort of Quincy’s warm skin against his.
“We could walk.” Quincy offered, “I reserved dinner at eight. Until then, we could walk. Or we could go to the park, maybe the mall.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Where you want to go.”
“What do you want to do?”
“What you want to do.”
“Quincy,” Eiden whispered, “You didn’t have to do this for me.”
“It’s for me.” Quincy said, his voice soft like a secret. “...I missed you too.”
And then Quincy’s knuckles nudged against the delicate skin of his wrist, dancing around his pulse. Rough fingers gently brushing his own, a tickling sensation. Searching for permission, but not pushing. Never pushing.
Eiden held his hand.
“I wanna get my sketchbook,” Eiden grinned excitedly, “Quincy, let’s go to the park!”
Eiden pulled Quincy along and began to sprint. He heard Quincy sigh, and moments later, as expected, they crashed onto the ground in Eiden’s childish haste to run to their home. He laughed as he did, dirty fingers reaching up to cup Quincy’s face. It was contagious. Quincy knocked his forehead against Eiden’s, and they wasted some time like that, lying on the grass like fools.
It was messy.
Words are hard. Quincy finds himself at a loss when it comes to them.
He has a preference for actions over words. He’d rather feel things without having to explain them, and he wants to be himself without needing a reason or excuse.
In some ways, Eiden was an acquired taste. When he walks, it’s accompanied by a wave of sounds; it’s not just his light footsteps, it’s his humming, his messenger bag thumping against his hip as he sways from side to side, and the faint residual sound from his earbuds, pumped up to the loudest volume. Eiden’s laugh isn’t just a laugh, it also comes with the unconscious series of short claps, and sometimes he pats his thighs, his amusement so bright and so real that he can’t contain his joy. Eiden is a firework. He’s the symphony of the day and the accompaniment of the night. Eiden was an acquired taste – and Quincy has acquired a taste for him.
There is so much Quincy wants to say to him.
He wants but he lacks.
Eiden is beautiful. He has a way of making the plain and mundane beautiful. He’s willowy and sunlit. Quincy likens him to a little bee, all buzzy and excited, drawing his strength from the sun and the flowers. Eiden looks at Quincy like he isn’t just looking at him, he’s seeing him. He has a way of moving his limbs like he’s dancing through the harsh winds of life. He’s more heart than man, more soul than body, and Quincy wonders when that heartbeat became so dear to him.
He can’t find the words to express his feelings, so he holds Eiden’s hand and he tugs him close, with his ear tucked close to Quincy’s bare vulnerable heart. He doesn’t know how to say ‘You’re beautiful’, so he buys him flowers and sweet pastries in a vague shadow of his loveliness.
There’s a quiet understanding between them that Eiden understands what he means to say.
“Ugh…”
Quincy turns his head at the sound of Eiden’s grumbling. He finds the man staggering at the door like a man on a battlefield, instead his weapon is a dripping whisk, his armour is a batter stained spatula, and his enemy is a giggly Topper holding something vaguely in the shape of a cake.
Quietly, Quincy grabs a towel and wipes his son down while Eiden hucks his apron into a bin. He emerges from his bedroom– a storage room converted into Eiden’s room when he moved in with them – in a baby blue hoodie, so large that the sleeves covered his hands and it went down to his knees, and a pair of lounge shorts. He’s preoccupied himself with the telephone, so he doesn’t catch the how Quincy’s gaze travels from his neck, then to the cute way he fumbled with his sleeves, and then finally, he remained fixated on the sight of Eiden’s legs; slim and pretty, with a perfect amount of of fat on his pillowy thighs.
“We’re having takeout,” Eiden declares.
“Where?”
“I have a coupon for this place and they just started taking deliveries. Their fried noodles are really good – unhealthy, but really good.”
Leaning against the couch, Quincy hums. “...I like your cooking.”
“We are having Yakisoba,” Eiden repeats, looking pink in the cheeks, and then says something that is only half a threat, maybe. “ – and you are going to like it!”
Topper ate his dinner earlier, and just as Eiden finishes ordering enough unhealthy food for two adults, he finishes his dessert and his big mug of warm milk. Even with all the trouble he caused in the kitchen, Quincy notes how Eiden folds quickly, ruffling Topper’s head dotingly as the boy yawns loudly.
“Thank you, Ei…”
“Okay, okay.” Eiden sighs, then chuckles. “Well, can’t say no to you. You’re too cute.”
Topper smiled, but was interrupted by a sudden yawn. Coming from himself. He looked so genuinely surprised at the sound that Eiden cackled.
“Mhmm, you’re not just cute, you’re also sleepy.”
“Noooottt…”
“Sure, sleepy boy. Let’s get you to bed.”
Hearing his cue, Quincy gets up from where he was lounging on the sectional. He carried Topper, his son’s weight easily settling in his arms. Across from the living room are the bedrooms; Topper and Quincy’s rooms on one side, and Eiden’s on the opposite side. They pass Quincy’s room and open the door with crayon scribbles and little stickers disproportionately placed on the bottom part of the door (Topper could only reach until there). Letting the father and son enter first, Eiden stepped in, opened the light switch, and closed the door behind him.
Low light filled the room, illuminating cream coloured walls painted with sceneries of nature. Vast canopies, foliage and shrubbery, and adorable little weasels scampering about the place. Quincy placed Topper down on a twin-sized bed in the middle of the room, cushioning his tiny head against a fluffy pillows, and together they both worked to tuck him under his vibrant blanket. Eiden made sure to tuck in Topper’s favourite weasel plushie, leaning down to kiss Topper’s forehead, and his little beady-eyed sleepmate as well.
Quincy affectionately patted Topper’s back, a slow rhythm to coax the boy to sleep.
He yawned, “Nooo, don’t wanna…”
“Sleepy, sleepy boy,” Eiden teased, “If you wanna be tall like your dad, you should get lots of rest!”
“Nn…night, night, Dada…love you.”
“Good night, Topper.”
“Night, Ei…love you …”
“I love you too, Topper.”
They had their dinner that night. Hearty, oily noodles and a good beer or two. Maybe three. Five. An entire pack. Blearily, Quincy heard Eiden laugh at something – because when isn’t he? Though his vision dims, he makes out the inebriated tinge flush across his dewy skin, and his breath runs hot against Quincy’s cheek, coming out in soft, delicate puffs. Piecing the sight of him, and the closeness of his body, Quincy finally realises that Eiden’s plopped himself down on his lap, doing a satisfied little wiggle that rouses a carnal want in him. Plump thighs saddled at his side, exposed planes of flesh rubbing against his sweatpants. Eiden’s small hands wrap around his wrists, tugging, until Quincy’s fingers meet at his small waist, and fit perfectly; like that tiny little dip was made just for Quincy to grab.
He raised himself up. Quincy helplessly followed his gaze. Eyes dilated, Eiden cradled Quincy’s face, giggling to himself.
“Y’have stubble!”
“Mhmm.”
“S’scratchy. Spiky. Feels like a cactus, hehe~”
“...You don’t like it?”
“I likeeee ittt –” Eiden cried, “Fits you, y’look soo handsome.”
Quincy groaned. Isn’t that every man’s dream, to be told that by a beautiful boy?
“Okay. I’ll keep it.”
Eiden pouted. “N, not gon’na, say nuthin’ else?”
Confused, Quincy leaned forward, letting his head knock against the slender curve between Eiden’s shoulder and his neck. Peering up at him, he asked, “What else?”
“Y’think ‘m haandsomee, Quincyyyy?”
“...”
Eiden sniffled, muffling his voice by rubbing his face in Quincy’s hair. It smells like some cheap men’s shampoo, the kind that smells like lemons and something vaguely woody. “Wish you thought I was handsome. Pretty.”
He’d spoken so softly, so wishfully. Like he’d given Quincy a part of his soul to break. It was something — a mix of liquid courage and that pretty little pout — that moved his limbs. Firmly drawing Eiden close and nosing at his oversized sweater, until his lips touched his skin and drew breath against his collarbones.
“...You’re beautiful.”
“Hic! Re, really??”
“So beautiful.”
“What’s so– hic! – what’s so beautiful, ‘bout me?
“Your eyes, your nose, your neck,” Boldly, Quincy trailed his lips upwards, lathing at his sensitive skin, lapping at salt and sweetness, drinking in his shivers and the tension beneath his skin. “Your chest, your waist, your hands – beautiful hands; you should use it for passions other than toying with my control.”
“Ha…ah…You’re the one, using your hands…”
“...You want me to?”
“Want you to touch me,” Eiden whispered, “Tell me ‘m pretty, Quincy. Never heard you…talk so so much b’fore…”
On command, Quincy's hands slipped under Eiden’s breezy clothes. “So small,” The words came out rasped, wild, as he squeezed his waist, grounding the warmth between Eiden’s legs against his hardness. A little gasp, so vulnerable, sweet, and small came unbidden from lovely lips. Eiden grabbed at Quincy’s broad shoulders, pliantly pressed against the sheer breadth of his chest. “Cute. Fun to touch.”
“You’re just…big,” Eiden gasped, “So, so big…so much bigger th’an me, Quin…”
“...You seem pretty happy.”
“Aren…aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Quincy murmured, a breathy little sound that he pressed into Eiden’s skin as his hands slipped down, tracing his ample curves. His palms fit perfectly, the fat spilling out between his thick fingers as he squeezed, pulling Eiden downwards to join them intimately. Eiden’s cottony shorts made for a flimsy barrier, doing nothing to protect Eiden’s sensitive heat. He rutted against that wet, trembling place, using the advantage of Eiden’s prone and weak body to grind him down against the heaviness in his pants, jutting out eagerly to eat him up. “Ghh…I can’t see it, but you feel pretty, down there…”
“Oh..♡ mnn, hnn, ahh…♡”
“...sounds pretty. Just take it, Eiden…”
“More, more!” Eiden cried, moving his hips in little circles, desperately. “I want…”
“Hgh…tell me, what do you want?”
“Call me pretty again,” He begged, dainty little tears clinging to his long eyelashes. “More, just like that, oh please, Quincy…!♡ ”
“I’ll do anything you want,” Quincy promised, worrying his lip as he bit down to suppress the ragged, wretched noises caught in his throat. He smashed against that thin boundary, feeling Eiden drip onto the front of his sweatpants. “Fuck, the things I would do…you beautiful, lovely boy…”
“Uuu…hic! Any…anything, ahhh…♡”
They mashed together as one. Quincy lost himself, just like that, pounding between his thighs, drenching his pants in Eiden’s gushing liquids. He’d have to fight for dessert later, scrounging all he could get – Eiden probably tastes how he looks, so good, and so sweet, and so fucking stunning, this boy —
Quincy’s mouth is moving, too fast and slurred for him to catch his words. “Good boy. Good boy, Eiden, just for me – I only have eyes for you..!”
It’s alluring, the way Eiden squeaks so cutely, all strength leaving his body as he shakes and falls apart in a mess of sobs and stuttered moans.
Quincy blinked. “Did you…”
Eiden covered his face, abashed. “It’s cus’... you w’re saying so many nice things.”
“Little devil,” Quincy uttered, feeling his heart clench at the state of him, “...I’ll say as many ‘nice things’ as you want.”
“...So-sorry, um, you didn’t get to…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with it later. I want to take care of you first.”
“Ah…um, if it’s okay,” Eiden muttered, “I…I want to sleep with you tonight…”
“Mhmm. Okay.”
It dawned on him at that moment that his sweatpants were soaked, he had Eiden curled up on his lap, his couch was never going to be the same ever again, and he’s never felt better in his life.
(The next morning, Quincy looked Eiden up and down as the man cooked breakfast. Out of impulse, Quincy’s lips took on a mind of its own, and he blurted out, “You look beautiful.”
Eiden turned so red he matched the marks of affection pressed against his neck.
Quincy decided he’d have to say it more often.)
“Shh, Quincy…I’m almost done.”
Quincy opens his eyes. As he’d expected, Eiden was sketching, his pencil scratching against a thick pad of watercolour paper. Suggestions of his craft became apparent to Quincy, as he focused on the excess graphite that stuck to Eiden’s fingers. Under the design of the wind, coming in through an open window, and the sun’s gentle rays, Eiden looked like a piece of art himself, to be kept forever in the museum of Quincy’s memory. He would never understand how Eiden couldn’t see it, the loveliness of his own soul.
His back began to hurt, stuck in an uncomfortable position. Slowly, he reached up over his head and began to stretch, easing out the tight knots of tension aching restlessly under his muscles. The movement caused the blankets to shift, pooling just below his bare abdomen, teasing a trail that led to something more. With shameless appreciation, Eiden gulped, his wide eyes staring at the flex of Quincy’s muscles, how his tight stomach rippled, and he became fascinated with this new knowledge that Quincy quite regularly slept in the nude.
Then Quincy settled back into his original position, tugging the blanket up and closing his eyes.
“Huh?”
“Weren’t you drawing?”
“Oh!”
Privately, Eiden stamped down his disappointment, instead choosing to focus on Quincy’s handsome features. He wore his godly features in a warm, human way. All strength and muscle and harsh lines, tempered by his sleepy peace. Just looking at Quincy made him feel warm and sleepy, much like the effect of a cosy fire or a heavy blanket.
Eiden let out a soft noise when he’d finished. Curiously, Quincy took a peek, and he wondered what caused such a delighted expression on Eiden’s face.
“What will you call it?”
“I think I’ll call it Sunrise.” Eiden answered softly, putting the drawing aside. “Scooch on over, big guy. I wanna sleep.”
“...It’s only 5 am. You were up before the sun again, weren’t you?”
“You can nag me about my sleeping habits later.”
The drawing was completely discarded as they cuddled beneath the blankets. The real thing was better than a sketch anyways.
“This is troublesome.”
“Ah-ah! No backing out now, mister, you promised Topper you’d come with us.”
There was an argument to be had that when Topper requested anything of his father, Quincy had no choice but to agree. However, the truth is that Quincy could say no, he just couldn’t bring himself to. The clever child recruited Eiden into his begging, and with two pleading eyes looking earnestly up at him, Quincy had folded, allowing himself to be dragged to the nearest mall with his wallet ready.
Mini train engines roared, racing across plastic tracks, performing extraordinary displays and tricks. On the ground, little clanging monkeys and yipping electronic dogs loudly drew the attention of excitable children and brought a sense of dread to the adults, who carefully watched their steps as to not step on the tiny army of toys. There were balloons and drones, levitating above the customers perusing through shelves of plush toys, fashionable dolls, action sets, and large building block sets featuring fantastical scenes. There were toys that pandered to the imaginative, creative minds. Intricate roleplaying sets for chefs, doctors, and all kinds of professions. Feeding into the little endorphin rush for surprises, there were whole isles dedicated to collectable figures hidden behind sparkly plastic bags, colourful eggs and boxes. Tucked away in a little corner, Quincy discovered a singular shelf for board games and card sets.
Some dollhouses on display attracted Eiden’s attention, who still had a child’s imaginative spirit in his heart. He marvelled at the tiny teacup sets, plates, and cosy rooms. One dollhouse featured a cottage that could be opened and closed, and it came with trees and a cast of fluffy animals in floral dresses, puffy sleeves and sweaters. Topper enjoyed the dollhouse for other reasons.
“Dad,” Topper exclaimed, pointing at a bear.
“Ei,” He cheered, pointing at the significantly smaller figure of a squirrel.
And finally, he pointed at a ferret, and then said, “Me!”
“Hey,” Eiden chuckled, “Why am I smaller than you?”
“I’m gonna get big like dada!”
“But you’re small right now.”
“Nuh-uh, I’m big now, you says so yesterday! I cleaned my room.”
“Said.” Eiden corrected, patting Topper’s head. “There’s a lot more toys to choose from, so let's look around. What kinda toy do you want, Topper?”
“I can gets anything?”
“Get, Top-top. And yeah, as long as your dad says yes.”
“Even girl toys?”
Eiden laughed, “Doesn’t matter who they were made for, bud. As long as you’re happy, you can get it.”
“Mhmm.” Quincy added, nodding his head.
Just like that, they found themselves at the dolls section. Quincy just leaned against a shelf, watching Eiden go on and on about the outfits passionately, while chuckling at some of the more outlandish and questionable clothing choices for the dolls. Topper and Quincy both listened to his enthusiastic ranting. Topper had fun pointing at the dolls, waiting for Eiden’s creative input on them. It was interesting to Quincy to witness the eye Eiden had for these things. From just a glance, Eiden could tell how cheap the material of some of the dresses were or how durable and articulate the plastics for the dolls’ bodies were.
At some point, a mom came over and engaged in polite conversation as her daughter joined Topper in looking at the dolls. The three adults allowed the children to have fun, giving them space as they retreated to a space where they could remain far enough without taking their eyes off of them.
“You know, I used to be into dolls a lot when I was younger. My wife was more into those clay things. I would know, we grew up together.”
“That’s so sweet!” Eiden beamed. “I didn’t have a lot of toys growing up, I mostly got them from donations, and I had to share them with the other kids.”
“What? – oh! Oh, I see.” The woman realised, “Do you still remember your favourite?”
“Sure do! It was like, this big star plush toy that I would whack the other kids with. I was a menace with the damn thing, hehe~ I would win all the pillow fights no matter what. I’d let the little kids borrow it and win, though, cus they were so cute.”
“No wonder you’re good with kids.” She giggled, “I can tell. That little boy looks so happy.”
Eiden’s face softened, looking every bit like a sentimental parent as he looked at Topper, who was on his tip-toes, trying to look at the dolls hidden behind the bulky plastic cased ones. “As long as he’s happy, I’m happy.”
“I understand that. I’d do anything to keep my little girl smiling. What about you, sir? What kind of toys did you grow up with?”
“I played basketball and football.” Quincy answered after a small pause. “I had a guitar and a drum set, too.”
“Ehhhh? You play instruments?” This was the first time Eiden had ever heard of it, and immediately he tried to imagine those large hands strumming a guitar and handling a drum set. “I’ve never heard you play,” then, he considered the idea of Quincy playing instruments more, and blushed. “Actually, I can see it. You look like you’d be into that kind of thing.”
“Not really, I quit.”
Seeing Eiden’s face fall slightly, Quincy huffed and ruffled his hair. “...I’ll play for you, if you want.”
It was worth it to see Eiden grin, all giddy and excited. “Haha! I can’t wait~ You put a lot of rock in our shared playlist, I’d love to hear you play one of those – then again, it’d be funny if you played that obnoxious intro to that show Topper watches. How does it go again? La–”
Before Eiden could get a word out, Quincy covered his mouth, looking dead-pan and tired. “No.” He said immediately. His grip was loose, so Eiden impishly giggled at him. “Eh? What do you mean no? Did I get the melody wrong? You should sing it then, c’mon, Quincy ~”
“...Troublesome.”
The mom looked amused, a wide smile on her lips. “Oh, please, Mr. Eiden. Spare us from the horrors of children’s programming.”
“Seriously, the music haunts me sometimes. It’s so loud…”
“Pot. Kettle.”
“That’s just mean, Quincy!”
“Papa, I want this!”
Topper looked at them with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes, holding up a doll with short brown hair and a jacket that mimicked a blue sunny sky, a mini sun pin and rainbow pin included. Thinking he’d misheard him, Eiden smiled and waited for Quincy to take the boxed doll.
Topper just blinked, confused, before pushing the box into Eiden’s lap. “Papa, I want it.”
“Huh?? Um, Topper, your dad–”
“I’m paying. Also, say please, Topper.” Quincy finally moved, taking the admittedly heavy box from Eiden’s lap.
“Oops, sorry! Papa, I want it, please.”
“S-sure, but um, shouldn’t you be asking your dad–”
“He did. He asked you.” Quincy said, nonchalantly. “Should we get it?”
“I…I mean, if he wants it…?”
“I do, it looks like papa!~” Topper brightened, turning to the mom with a silly smile. “Papa likes jackets, and he’s puh- per, pre…”
“Pretty?” She finished for him, and Topper nodded. “Mhmm!”
“That’s lovely, dear.” She hummed indulgently, getting up from her seat when she saw her daughter heading towards her. “What a cute family! Looks like my daughter’s picked out a toy too, so I’ll get going now. Here, this business card has my number at the back, we should arrange a playdate sometimes, and I’ll bring my wife along. Maybe we could have a double date? I know a nice place, it’s this quaint little cafe that just opened up.”
Eiden was stunned into rare silence, doing an impersonation of those lovely red roses he loved so much. Quincy took the card and nodded. “...Sure. We’ll go now, too. We have a date.”
“We have–!?”
“Aww, that’s great! Don’t let me keep you then.”
Both families went their separate ways, and almost meekly, Quincy held Eiden’s hand on the way to the counter. After a moment’s hesitation, Eiden’s mind slowly caught up to him, and tightened his hold around Quincy’s fingers.
“Um, Quincy…”
“Back there, um, you didn’t have to pretend…”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then…then…”
“...I’ve been thinking for a while. How to say it.”
Eiden held his breath. “Say what?”
“Topper says it so easily, I wonder where he got that from, because it wasn’t from me.” Quincy mused, and he looked at Eiden, cognac meeting honey champagne, and something bubbled and fizzed in Eiden’s chest. He worried it might pop and explode. “He’s your son. He’s been your son for a long while now. He loves you.”
Quincy slowed his steps, lowering his voice, creating a private moment between them. As private as it could be, holding hands in a crowded toy store while their son was waiting impatiently ahead. “...I wonder if you’d let me love you. It’s not much of a date, since our son would be there, but we could have lunch…”
Our son. Eiden felt like he could cry. He’d never been so happy in his life. He kissed that man right then and there, a brief chaste kiss at the side of his lips, and somehow the way Quincy’s stubble made his lips tingle in those precious few seconds felt more intimate than the heated moment of closeness they’d shared before. He laughed as he pulled away, attempting to pat away the dizzying warmth from his cheeks.
Quincy didn’t let him get away. He tugged his hand and kissed Eiden’s lips, just as quick as Eiden had kissed him, but it didn’t stop the inhuman shriek that escaped his lips.
“This is so embarrassing.” Eiden peeped, “This is more of a family outing than a date…”
“Topper brought us together, we owe it to him.”
“Heh, that’s true…” Eiden whispered, “I don’t mind…we could…could…go on a date, some other time…then…”
His voice kept getting smaller and smaller. Quincy thumbed at his pulse, smiling to himself. “Sure. I’d like that.”
“PAPPAAAA, DADAAAAA!” Topper whined, getting antsy waiting for them. “You’re so slow!”
“Coming, coming!” Eiden laughed, pulling Quincy along with him.
Quincy couldn’t help but laugh as well, mirroring his their smiling faces. So many things have changed; he’s a dad, he’s fallen in love, and every hour spent alive feels worth the trouble of waking up every morning.
“Papa, papa, where are we going after this?”
“What do you wanna eat?”
“Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes!~”
Quincy smiled.
Life hasn’t been so troublesome these days.