#only the epilogue is left | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 16

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15

--------------------------------------------------------

Eddie didn’t usually get nervous about meeting people. Even the few times he met parents, he didn’t really expect them to be a forever thing, so it didn’t really matter to him if he made a good impression.

But this was Steve. This was the person he was spending forever with. And despite his clearly complicated relationship with his parents, his mom seemed to mean something to him.

Steve explained their entire conversation on the way to his apartment, his old apartment, the one he hopefully wouldn’t move back into.

If it were up to Eddie, this temporary move to his house would be permanent, but he didn’t want to push. He knew Robin and Steve were close, and that Robin looking for a new roommate may take some time, that Steve wouldn’t want to just leave her with such little notice and no one to cover his half of the rent.

The closer they got to the apartment, the more nervous Eddie became.

Steve looked over at him when they stopped at a red light, brows furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing, my love,” he brushed it off, kept his face forward so he wouldn’t fall for the puppy dog eyes Steve gave him to get what he wanted.

“You know, my mom isn’t that bad. I don’t get along with her all the time, but she is definitely the lesser of two evils when it comes to my parents.”

“Mhm. Just wanna make sure you’re okay with everything.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, the soft tones of a song he didn’t recognize playing on the radio.

“You know it’s okay to be worried about yourself, Eds. I’m feeling…well, not great, but kind of positive about this? I know it could turn into nothing, but my mom is kind of relentless when she’s set on something and it doesn’t sound like she’s gonna give up until I have my job back.”

Steve’s hand settled on Eddie’s knee, providing him a comfort he didn’t realize he needed.

Eddie often found comfort in putting others’ needs first, that’s what made him a good dom, a good friend, a good person. But even he needed to take a break from that sometimes. He knew it, he just didn’t actually do it.

“I’m mostly worried about you, but I am a little worried about meeting your mom. There, is that better?” Eddie asked with a small smile.

“Yes. She always comes off scarier than she is. All yip, no bite, or whatever the saying is,” Steve said confidently.

Eddie loved him. God, he loved him so much.

He watched as Steve bobbed his head along to the music, his hand remaining on Eddie’s knee and tapping his fingers, though he was completely off beat.

Eddie loved him so much, it felt like a part of him was always going to hear Steve’s name and associate it with comfort and home.

Steve pulled into his usual parking spot, sighing as he parked.

“Just don’t take any offense to what she says. She has no filter and forgets that people have feelings. I barely listen to anything she says anymore.”

Steve sounded nervous suddenly, maybe even more than Eddie had been on the way here.

Eddie turned, cupped his face in his hands, and kissed his nose.

“I’m here to support you, protect you. I want her to help you. I don’t care if she likes me or is rude to me, it’s about you being happy.”

“Eds, I don’t want her to upset you. Please just don’t let her scare you away.”

“Sunshine, I’m not goin’ anywhere, especially not because of your mom being a little mean to me. Your my home, and I’m yours, right?”

He felt Steve relax into his hands, a fond smile taking over his face.

“Yeah, baby, you are.”

“Then let’s go see your mom.”

—----------------------------------------

Robin was standing at the front door as soon as he opened it, her eyes begging him to do literally anything to help.

He almost laughed.

Almost.

But then he heard his mother, presumably on the phone with someone, and he decided he probably should be easy on her.

“Who’s she talking to?”

“It’s been someone new every five minutes since she got off the phone with you. I think this one is your father, but I’m not sure because she talks to everyone the exact same, which is like they are specks of dirt on the bottom of her shoe.” Robin rolled her eyes and turned to Eddie with a smile. “Hi, Eddie.”

“Hi, Robbie. Gonna make it?”

“Hard to say. I hope so.”

They gave each other quick hugs, an exchange of wordless support, and Eddie felt a bit better. If Robin could handle Steve’s mom, he certainly could.

“Richard, I don’t give a shit and a half if you think I’m babying him. He’s our son. He didn’t do anything wrong and he’s being punished. Our job is to help people who don’t do anything wrong and are being punished. I’ll be better off without your help, but I refuse to let you make empty threats at me or him.”

“You guys stay here,” Steve muttered, making his way into the kitchen to talk to his mom.

“I have to go. You can go fuck yourself or the newest woman who has to fake it through a few minutes in bed with you to get a new diamond bracelet.”

Anne Harrington did not fuck around. Steve could admit to himself that it was probably the best part about her.

“Oh, good, you’re home. I’ve contacted the school to let them know any future interviews involving you will also have me present. Any paperwork sent to you or requiring a signature will be reviewed by me first. I’ve already been sent the paperwork you signed, which will not hold up in court because all parties involved in the case are supposed to sign it and only you signed it. You work for a school system that doesn’t seem to understand basic law, which is concerning since they’re opening themselves up to a hell of a lawsuit.”

“It’s nice to see you, Mom.”

Anne sighed, releasing the weight of the world from her shoulders, and pulled him into a hug.

They were never a touchy family, not even when Steve was a small child. But every once in a while, usually during the most stressful times, his mom would pull him into a hug that actually felt like the type of hug a mother would give her kid.

“What a pickle this is,” she said against his shoulder, a solid six inches shorter than him, but always bigger than her body when she spoke.

“I know. Thanks for helping.”

“No need to thank me, it’s gonna be easy to handle. Now! Where’s the boyfriend?”

“Uh. With Robin.”

“Let’s go get this out of the way, then,” she said as she pulled away from him, her face back to the stern look he’d walked in on.

“Just be easy, please. He-”

“Steven, I know what it looks like when you’re happy. I know I rarely was around to see it, but it’s easy to see the glow, even with all this stress happening around you. He makes you feel loved?”

“Every second of every day.”

“Then he won’t have to worry about me unless that changes,” she said as she walked out to the living room.

Anne walked up to Eddie, his eyes wide as he took her in.

“Edward Munson. Nice to meet you. I’m Anne Harrington. I am certain I like you just fine, but let’s get right to it: my son is all that matters to me right now and if you get in his way of getting his job back or me doing my job, you will never step foot near him again, understood?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the blush creeping across his cheeks. His mom had never been this protective of him, not even in high school when one of his friends tried to drag him into a legal issue with another basketball player.

“And if I ever get in the way of his happiness and future, I hope you would do whatever you can to protect him,” Eddie responded.

Anne studied him for a moment, looking him up and down and trying to figure out what her response should be.

She nodded once, turned to Steve, gave him a wink, and then looked back at Eddie.

“Let’s get Steve his job back.”

—----------------------------------------

The next three days were endless meetings with his mom, the school, and the school board.

Steve was instructed not to open his mouth except to give the same answers he’d already given, let Anne do most of the talking otherwise, keep his head up and appear confident that he’d done the right thing.

He had done the right thing, so it was easy to do.

Every moment he got with Eddie was special, his mom taking the guest room of the house and making it difficult for them to have any time alone.

But they still stole away in the evenings, when his mom decided to take a break from everything and shower and read her book for a bit. Eddie and Steve would take a bath together, Eddie washing Steve, Steve washing Eddie, touching every inch of each other with reverence as they silenced the moans with their mouths.

It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do for a while.

Steve cooked them breakfast every morning, Eddie wrapped his arms around his waist and rocked side to side, humming a song Steve didn’t know.

Eddie went to the shop while Steve stayed home and made sure his mom had everything she needed to do her job. He would bring Eddie a late lunch to take a break, and his mom would often go find a restaurant she deemed tolerable so she could enjoy a “decent salad, nobody makes a decent salad anymore, Steven.”

By the time dinner came around, Steve was feeling too much, and he had no way to feel better about it until Eddie got home.

Eddie would just know.

He’d pull him against his chest, run his hands up and down his back for a minute, then tug on his hair just right, just the way Steve craved.

It wasn’t enough to float, not even enough to drift a bit on the edge, but it was enough to make him feel like Eddie knew what he needed and would help as soon as he could.

“Your mom in the kitchen?” Eddie whispered against his head.

“Mhm.”

“She okay?”

“Yeah. Said we should be hearing anytime now about everything.”

“Did you talk about her treatments yet?”

Steve shook his head against Eddie’s chest.

“She doesn’t want to?”

Steve shook his head again.

“Want me to ask?”

“No. I just want you to be here with me when I do. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is, sunshine,” Eddie kissed the top of his head and pulled away so he could head into the kitchen to start making dinner.

It was smooth, or at least as smooth as it could be with an extra person in the house who was toeing the line between welcome and nuisance.

Eddie was making steak salad tonight, at his mom’s request, because he was incredible and a small part of Steve loved seeing that Eddie was doing whatever it took to keep her happy, to keep the peace between them.

“Hi, Anne. How’s today been?” Eddie asked as he moved towards the fridge to pull everything out to start prepping.

“It’s been another day, Edward. How was your day?”

“Had another first tattoo today. Those are always interesting,” he sent a knowing look to Steve, who was shaking his head slowly.

“Oh? Do you get them often?”

“Honestly, no. Steve was my first first in a while. This was a friend of a friend who only trusted me to do it.”

Steve froze.

Somehow, Steve had managed to hide his tattoos from his mom the entire time. He’d been wearing Eddie’s hoodies around the house and long sleeve shirts and blazers or jackets for the meetings.

Eddie must have realized what happened as he turned to see Anne’s eyes searching Steve’s visible skin.

“You have a tattoo?”

“I have two.”

“Steven, tattoos aren’t very professional for your line of work.”

Eddie was standing at attention now, ready to step in the moment Steve needed him, but waiting for a signal of any kind.

“I got them in places that can be hidden. You haven’t seen them the entire time.”

“What could you possibly have gotten tattooed?”

“Will made me a sun painting and I decided I wanted it as a tattoo. Eddie did it on my wrist. Then I got a robin done.”

“This is the Will that you helped?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see?”

Her voice was much gentler now, almost too kind compared to what Steve was used to when she was disappointed in him.

Steve rolled the sleeve of his hoodie up, holding it out towards his mom as she sat at the table.

She took his wrist and turned it back and forth as she looked at the sun.

“He’s quite talented,” she said softly.

“He is.”

“I’m proud of you, Steve.”

Steve’s heart stopped, his eyes widened, and he felt his eyes flood with tears.

His parents had never said that to him, not when he made the varsity basketball team a year earlier than most people do, not when they won a championship, not when he made swim team captain as a junior, not when he graduated high school, not ever.

He’d stopped expecting to hear it eventually, especially when he’d cut himself off from them.

But some part of him, probably his inner child who had craved hearing those words for his entire life, felt incredibly overwhelmed at the way his mother was looking at him with tears in her eyes.

He distantly heard Eddie walk out of the room, and he struggled with the combination of feelings of relief and anxiety knowing that he wasn’t right there.

“I’m sorry I don’t tell you more, or ever, I guess. I know you’ve deserved to hear it so much. I guess-” she took a shaky breath. “I guess it was easier for me to pretend I wasn’t proud because I had no hand in your accomplishments. It was selfish of me to think that way, and I know that no amount of apologies will make up for it, but I let my job and your father dictate my entire life to the point that I forgot my son needed me.”

“Mom-”

“Let me finish first, please,” she held her hand up to stop him. “As I’ve been working on this entire situation, I’ve read through the interviews the school board conducted with Will, with his mom, with his brother, with other students, with the principal. Everyone loves you, everyone is on your side. Your own principal said the school would never be the same if you weren’t given another chance, that they would never find anyone as valuable as you are. The place I went to lunch the other day saw my last name and asked if I was related to you, and when I told them I was your mom, they gave me lunch for free because you helped the owner rebuild his shed when a snowstorm collapsed the roof last winter. And Eddie. Honey, that boy looks at you like you’re his sun. I cannot believe you’ve only been together a couple weeks. I don’t think I’ve ever felt the way you two feel about each other. Robin wanted to kill me when I walked into your apartment, and I assume it’s because she knows I haven’t ever been a good mom to you, and she’s right for wanting to protect you like that. I was never around to protect you, and probably caused more pain than anything, and I will spend as much time as it takes to try to make up for it.”

Steve was crying, the tears running down his face, soaking his hoodie, his vision so blurry he could barely even see that his mother was crying, too.

She stood up and pulled him against her, her head resting against his shoulder, his head resting against the top of her head.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into his hoodie, her voice muffled but still audible.

“Why wasn’t I enough to be proud of?” Steve asked, his voice breaking.

“Oh, darling, you were. I promise you were. This isn’t anything you did wrong, or didn’t do well enough, this is all me failing you. You deserved to know I was proud of you, but I didn’t stop to think about how much not telling you would hurt you. That was my fault, not yours., you understand?”

Steve nodded, letting out another sob.

Suddenly, Eddie’s hand was on his lower back, and Steve’s body instantly relaxed.

“Sorry to interrupt, but your phone keeps ringing, and I figured it must be important if they keep trying,” Eddie said quietly, softly, the gentlest interruption he could possibly have made to their moment.

Steve pulled away sniffling, wiping his eyes as his mother did the same.

He reached for his phone, a new set of vibrations alerting him to another phone call.

“Hello?” Steve answered, hoping his voice didn’t give away the emotions of the last 15 minutes.

“Mr. Harrington, so sorry to keep calling like this, but I wanted to make sure to reach you before the school board official called.”

Principal Graves’ voice sounded excited, barely containing something that Steve hoped was good news.

“Is everything okay?”

“They’re going to be calling with the scheduled hearing for all parties involved today. They only do this when they’re pretty sure about reinstating someone, so I have a very good feeling you’ll be coming back to work within the next week.”

Steve started crying again.

Eddie and his mom looked at him concerned, but he gave them a wet smile to show that he was okay.

“I’ll get to talk to Will there?”

“This is why you’re the only person qualified for this job. The person filling in for you doesn’t believe in weekly sessions with students, says it causes students to become too attached to the counselor and services. I can’t wait to see her go. You didn’t hear that from me though.”

Steve let out a laugh, his tears finally slowing down, and his head falling to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I miss my kids,” Steve admitted, closing his eyes when Eddie’s hand rubbed up and down his back comfortingly.

“They miss you. We all do. We owe a lot to your mother for how quickly this has turned in your favor. This could have gone on for another month at the rate they wanted to do things. She’s an impressive woman.”

Steve watched as his mother sat back down at the table to write something down in her notes with a smile.

“Yeah, she is.”

He wrapped up the call so he could be available for the school board call, thanking the principal multiple times for her help. He knew she struggled with filing a report at all, that she was only doing her job.

When he hung up, he explained everything to Eddie and his mom, getting interrupted halfway through by a kiss from Eddie, their teeth clacking together because of the broad smiles on both their faces.

When the call from the school board came through, Steve was sitting on the couch while Eddie prepared dinner in the kitchen, having a casual conversation with his mom while she worked at the dining room table.

On Monday, his entire future would be decided, and hopefully, he’d be back in his office to make a difference.

—------------------------------

When Monday came, Robin and Chrissy met Eddie and Steve at the school board office an hour early.

“Your mom coming?”

“She had a phone call with her doctor this morning so she should be here soon,” Steve said.

They’d talked over dinner a few nights before about her treatments, and how she had been putting it off for work, but also putting it off because she was scared. Steve told her she had to take care of herself, that her health needed to take priority, and if she needed to have support through it, he would be there.

Eddie took it a step further, and offered her the guest room during her treatments so she didn’t have to be alone.

Steve loved him so much.

“Should we wait inside?” Chrissy asked, holding onto Robin’s hand.

“You guys go in. I just wanna talk to Steve for a second,” Eddie said, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist.

Chrissy smirked, but didn’t say anything as she guided Robin inside.

Steve turned to Eddie, nervous smile on his face.

“What is it, baby?”

“I just wanted to say that no matter what, I’m in this with you. We’ll figure it out if things don’t go as planned, and nothing with us is going to change. You’re an incredible person and counselor, sunshine, and if they can’t see that, they don’t deserve you,” Eddie pecked his lips quickly to emphasize his words.

“Thank you, Eds. I love you.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

With one more quick kiss, they parted, and made their way inside to find the room the hearing would take place in.

When they found it, the Byers were already there, and Will looked ready to vibrate out of his seat when he noticed Steve walk in.

He looked to Joyce, silently begging for permission to go to Steve. When she nodded with a smile, Will shot up out of his seat, nearly tripping on his own feet to run towards him.

Steve nearly fell backwards with the force of the hug, Will’s arms wrapping around him as he let out a sob. Eddie held them both up as Steve found his balance again, smiling down at them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything to anyone. Mom’s trying to put together a fund for you so you can still pay your bills and Jonathan booked a show and the band is gonna give up their money from it to help you. And I made you a painting, but I couldn’t give it to you because Mom said it would possibly be worse if we tried to talk to you while they did everything. And I hate the new counselor, she’s terrible. She said if I need weekly services I should see a therapist and didn’t understand that we can’t afford one, that’s why I talk to you, but she just kept saying there are ‘resources for people in poverty’ which, we know, but they’re terrible and there’s a long wait list or else I would have already tried and-”

“Woah, buddy. Take a deep breath.” Steve helped him take a couple deep breaths and smiled down at Will. “It’s gonna be okay. Even if today doesn’t go well, I can still help you somehow. And you don’t have to worry about the money, you guys are amazing, but I’m doing fine.”

“Mom brought you a check already today. You can’t leave without it.”

Steve shook his head.

“Keep it. Use it for art supplies or something. I’ve got my bills paid and if today goes well, I’ll be back to work very soon.”

Will looked like he wanted to continue to argue, but Anne walked in, followed by Principal Graves and a few school board officials that Steve recognized as the interviewers for the case.

“You must be Will,” Anne said as she walked up to them.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t do that. I fear I’m looking much older than I wish to these days and that doesn’t help. I’m Mr. Harrington’s mom, Anne.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anne.”

“You’re an outstanding artist, Will. I’d love to commission you for a piece for my office when you are done with school for the year.”

Will’s jaw dropped, and Steve couldn’t help the little giggle he let out.

His mother had only told him about that plan the day before, and he wholeheartedly agreed with it.

“Like, for money?”

“Of course. We’ll discuss it more when we get past this little bump in the road, okay?”

Will nodded, his mouth still open in shock.

“Attention everyone, please take your seats so we may begin,” a loud, deep voice echoed through the room.

Everyone followed instructions quickly, silent agreement that this needed to be over with as soon as possible.

Steve was nervous. He’d done okay up until this point, relying on his mom to explain technical things to him and Eddie to help him stay grounded and relaxed as much as possible.

But neither of them could do that now. Now, it was up to everyone at the front of the room to make a decision, a decision they probably already made, that would determine if Steve left here with a job or without one.

“As all of you know, I am the lead official investigator for this case, Mr. Hammond. We have spent many days conducting individual interviews with all parties present, as well as group interviews and other individual interviews with students and teachers at the school. We are here today to allow both sides to state anything they may have left out during interviews before we make our final recommendation on Mr. Harrington’s employment.” He cleared his throat before turning to look at Joyce and Will. “We will begin with you both. You are not required to add anything, but if you feel there is anything else you’d like to say, now is your chance.”

Will stood up immediately.

“I’d like to say something, please.”

The group in front nodded.

“Mr. H has been the best thing about school for me. He’s helped me really feel comfortable with myself, and helped me make new friends, and helped me understand that my art can be special to me and can provide a future for me if I try hard enough. No other counselor or teacher has ever been there like he has. My grades have suffered since he was sent home,” he sighed. Steve didn’t know that, and he felt anger rise up as he thought of the counselor in his place turning Will away while he struggled. “I haven’t been able to focus on my portfolio. I get encouragement from my mom, but she works hard and sometimes it’s just nice for someone who isn’t related to me to offer their support. Mr. H was that support for me, and no matter what decision you make today, I know he will do his best to still give it to me in whatever way he can.”

“Thank you, Will.” A woman next to Mr. Hammond gave him a smile. “Anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

Will sat down and Joyce hugged him, whispering something into his ear that no one could hear.

“Mr. Harrington, now is your chance to speak. You may say anything you wish to discuss your actions.”

Steve looked at Anne, who nodded at him encouragingly. They’d agreed the day before that she would only step in if things got ugly, and it seemed calm enough that he could speak on his own.

“Thank you,” he said as he stood. “I believe I spoke a lot during my interviews about how much my students, not just Will, mean to me. I got into this profession because I want to be a support for kids who may not always have it. That isn’t to say Ms. Byers doesn’t support him, but she’s a hardworking single mom, and it does take a village to raise a child, as we all know. When I first met Will, he barely spoke to anyone, he was barely passing his classes, and he was on his way to being a statistic that doesn’t look good for the community, the school, or himself. After a few sessions, he started opening up a bit more to me, and I saw a major improvement in his grades. He started making friends, he started becoming more involved in school activities like art club, and even got encouraged to apply for an elite art program. As you all are aware, his mother barely makes enough money to pay the necessary bills, and an art program like the one Will deserves to be a part of requires a lot of funding just to apply. He came to me as a trusted person to ask for help, which is something we encourage all students to do without fear of punishment. Instead of that happening, he was punished. I was punished as well, and trust me, it’s been difficult, but this entire time, I’ve been worried more about the impact this will have on Will.”

Steve looked over at Will, who was wiping tears from his face.

“My boyfriend Eddie was the one offering financial assistance. If you remember, he knew the Byers before we were even together. He knows what Will is capable of and didn’t want him to lose out on a big opportunity for his future because of a couple hundred dollars. I supported them because Will deserves it. If our job is to care for these kids, and make sure they have bright futures, then that’s what we did. Punishing any of us for it seems like the opposite of what our mission is. It’s been a privilege to be able to provide Will, and many other students, a safe place to be themselves, and I hope to continue to do that in this school.”

Steve sat down before anyone responded, his mom squeezing his shoulder and Eddie taking his hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Harrington. If you would give us all a few minutes to deliberate in the other room, we will be back shortly,” Mr. Hammond said seriously.

As they filed out, Steve’s nerves grew exponentially.

His legs were bouncing up and down until Eddie’s hands were on his knees, putting pressure on them to keep them still.

“Look at me, Stevie. That’s it, good boy,” Eddie whispered to him. Anne was busy speaking with Joyce and Will, so they were practically alone. “You did amazing. They’d be idiots not to reinstate you. If you’re not back in your office tomorrow, I’ll move us to another school district so you can find a new job. Will can come, too.”

Steve let out a small giggle at the thought of moving their entire lives just so he could have another chance to be a counselor somewhere.

“Everyone here knows you did the right thing. That’s what matters most. We’re all proud of you.”

Steve nodded.

He looked behind him at Robin and Chrissy, who both waved when he looked back, their hands still clasped between them.

He sat silently for a few minutes, looking down at his lap, trying to believe Eddie’s words, but not get his hopes up too much in case things went badly.

The door opened.

The group walked in.

No one’s face gave anything away.

Steve’s nerves grew, but Eddie’s hand in his kept him here.

“Thank you for your patience,” Mr. Hammond stated. “At this time, will Mr. Harrington please stand?”

Steve stood, his legs wobbling slightly as he let go of Eddie’s hand.

He felt every eye on him.

“Mr. Harrington, you understand that this has all been following a very strict policy in regards to confidentiality and personal relationships with students?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You understand it was our responsibility to fully investigate all claims made to ensure the safety of the student in question?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You understand that reinstatement of your position will still show this investigation on your record?”

Steve heard Will cheering before he truly registered what was being said.

“I’m sorry?”

Mr. Hammond smirked. The rest of the group was smiling at him.

“You’ve been reinstated as of today. You may resume your position as guidance counselor as early as tomorrow. Please keep in mind any future claims will require an immediate suspension of duties. Please stay here while the paperwork is drawn up for signatures. Thank you all for your cooperation.” Mr. Hammond turned to Will. “And good luck to you, Will. Your art is quite spectacular and deserves a place in that art program.”

“Thank you!” Will said, maybe a bit too loudly for the location and occasion, but it just made everyone let out laughs at his excitement.

Eddie was suddenly pulling him into his arms, kissing the top of his head and saying so many lovely things that Steve could barely hear.

“You’re incredible, oh my God, I’m so happy for you,” he whispered into his ear before Anne got in between them.

“Let me hug my son!” She said half-jokingly. Eddie let him go so he could be enveloped in his mom’s arms. “I’m so proud of you, honey. I knew you’d be fine.”

“Probably not without you,” Steve admitted.

“Maybe, maybe not. Important thing is you get to go back to work and make a difference for these kids, right?”

He nodded and then got wrapped up in Robin’s arms.

“You did it dingus! You get to be back with the rugrats!” She was bouncing up and down, making the hug a bit awkward, but Steve was used to her energy.

“Congrats, Steve. I’m so happy for you,” Chrissy added from behind her.

Steve felt loved.

So many people came to support him, to show him that no matter what decision was made, they were on his side. That he mattered.

But he didn’t really start crying until Will was hugging him again, thanking him over and over again for being the best and for not giving up and for caring so much.

He let Will sit next to him while he signed all the paperwork, his mom reviewing everything before he did so.

Will was telling him all about the piece he started working on in art club, and how he thought it was good enough for his portfolio, but kind of wanted to get his opinion first. Steve listened, unable to stop smiling at his excitement.

It was contagious, the excitement.

Everyone in the room seemed to feel it, all of them practically bouncing in place as they waited for Steve to finish.

When he did, Anne took everyone out to a celebratory brunch, bribed Joyce to keep Will out of school for the whole day with the promise of the best mimosas she’s ever had.

As Steve rode home after in the passenger seat of Eddie’s car, he looked down at his sun tattoo.

Somehow, despite every cloud in the way, he was still shining.

“You okay, sunshine?” Eddie was looking over at him out of the corner of his eye, a smile pretty much permanently plastered on his face since the decision was made.

“I’m perfect,” he replied.

He’d never been perfect before. He’d never thought perfect was attainable.

But perfect to him wasn’t the lack of problems or imperfections, it was knowing that even with them, he was happy.

He felt bright. He felt warm. And with Eddie next to him, he felt like the sun.

epilogue

TAG LIST: @invisibleflame812 @inmoonywetrust @captain-daryn @carlyv @lillemilly @spectrum-spectre @raisedbylibrarians @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @mightbeasleep @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @bornonthesavage @loguine-linguine @bejeweledbaby @bisexualdisastersworld @eddiemunsonswife @sadcanadianwinter @messrs-weasley @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch @maya-custodios-dionach @sleepyboosstuff @novelnovella @f1ct1onwh0re @croatoan-like-its-hot @shrimply-a-menace @crazyhatlady86 @izzy2210 @phirex22 @crypticcorvidinacottage @yourebuckingkiddingme @sydthekid2004 @lovelylilbadone @abydell921 @wildflower-faun @lydi-cyan @lololol-1234 @221b-fandom @carlajim98 @azure-and-gold @space-invading-pigeon @crying-trashcan @hellomynameismoo @mrsjellymunson @lichenettic-pos

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #will byers #joyce byers #call me sunshine send me to space #tattoo artist eddie munson #guidance counselor steve harrington #soft dom eddie munson #sub steve harrington #last real chapter #only an epilogue and bonus buckingham chapter left!!!!

180 notes · View notes

aranarumei · 1 year ago

Text

the anomalous agate (part two)

now: here's what some of you actually wanted to see yesterday.

a quick rundown for anyone who has no idea what this is: here's ch 1 on tumblr and ao3. I posted an updated version of ch 1 yesterday that flows a bit nicer, and recommend checking that out if you haven't already.

and, while it's even less necessary to do, consider checking this post out, too. the context in which it was written is kind of... irrelevant to this fic, honestly, but it provides a bit of background that I think enhances some of what's going on in this chapter and the next one (that I haven't written yet).

with that out of the way, this chapter is over 7k, so here's the ao3 link if you prefer. (there's also a bit of a longer author's note there at the end) if you'd like to stick to tumblr, follow me under the cut.

edit: part three

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (part two)

Even the usually oblivious Tanimoto-san noticed my listless mood in the following days. It wasn’t unusual for me to worry or speculate about my clients—everyone who stepped into Richard’s store certainly had some kind of interesting quality, but something about Hanzawa tugged oddly at my chest.

To complicate matters, I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Richard had spent Sunday carrying on as usual, but every once in a while, he’d drift into his thoughts and his brows would furrow like something was bothering him. This wasn’t a trait unique to Hanzawa’s presence, but this was possibly the first time I’d seen Richard look genuinely unsettled instead of troubled.

It wasn’t an expression I liked seeing on his face.

“Seigi-kun, you seem deep in thought,” Tanimoto-san said. “Something on your mind?”

Class had ended. I flipped aimlessly through the pages of the book on gemstones I’d borrowed from Richard before tucking it into my bag. Somehow, I didn’t quite feel as if I could meet her eyes. “You mentioned there were many gems that did heat treatment, right?” I asked as we began to shuffle out of the classroom.

She responded with less cheer than usual, and I felt dejected to be the cause. “Oh, yes… not just corundum,” she said. “Beryl and quartz, too. That encompasses a large quantity of jewels which are just named as different forms of these materials, really… heat treatment is used often to change their color. Apart from deepening the red of a ruby, there’s aquamarine—a type of beryl—which is most commonly green-blue. Heat treatment tends to enhance the blue color and really give it that expected ‘aqua’ color. One of the most dramatic transformations, to me, is amethyst—it can turn a deep orange when it’s treated with heat.”

“Ah—I saw that last weekend,” I said. “It’s meant to mimic citrines, right?”

“Citrines tend to be a paler yellow, actually,” Tanimoto-san said. “But they’re rare—especially ones with a deep orange color. That’s why heat-treatment of amethysts is so common.” She sighed, gaze drifting off in space as we headed to her next class. “When we think of the term ‘citrus,’ the first thing that comes to mind is often an orange, despite the variety of citrus fruits in other colors. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the reason people mistake amethysts for citrine so easily.”

“It fits with their preconceived notions, huh?” I said, earning an approving nod from Tanimoto-san. “I still remember what you said before—about wanting to appreciate the stones as they were without heat treatment. I thought that was a really beautiful idea.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you think so, Seigi-kun,” she said. We came to a halt in front of her next classroom, but she didn’t go inside just yet. “But we’d talked about this already… is there something else you wanted to ask me?”

I swallowed around an uncomfortable bit of air. We were early for her class—it wasn’t a particularly long walk from classroom to classroom, but I liked spending time with her—but she usually went directly inside. It’s so nice of her to take time out of her day to worry about me, I thought. But again, I knew that I must have been really out of sorts for her to notice.

“It was just mentioned in passing,” I said at her prompting, “But… well, a client was discussing agate, and I heard that some of them were dyed. Is that a common process?”

Her expression immediately soured. For a minute I thought I’d stepped on some kind of conversational landmine, but though she looked unhappy, she spoke without malice. “It’s—not uncommon, no. Agate is porous, so it absorbs dye well, as do any stones like it.” I could see her turning over her words with care. “But… while heat treatment is an irreversible process, dyeing tends to be less effective. The color can fade over time, especially under sunlight, and it may not stain evenly. And depending on what dye is used, it can be removed with solvents like acetone… so it’s a process that’s much less certain.”

“So, they’re kind of fragile,” I observed, “even if they’re made to look nicer.”

“Well, they certainly look pretty—the bright colors can enhance how distinct the banding is, so you could argue the dye only enhances the best features of agate and other types of chalcedony, but…”

“…But?”

“Dyeing stones is really common for selling fakes,” she said. “And well—I just think that’s inexcusable, to conceal the truth like that. Even though dyed stones can be detected, that’s usually only after they’re sold, right? And this often happens with online purchases, so… I can’t help but feel resentful.” She frowned. “And every time I’ve traveled to see something related to rocks, the gift shop always carried those tumbled and dyed stones! It’s hard to find anything else…”

“That must be tough,” I said, though it was hard to suppress a smile at the thought of Tanimoto-san scowling in the middle of a gift shop. She usually seemed so magnanimous, and it was nice to see that she had her weak points, too.

She pouted. “I know it’s a petty reason, okay!” she said. A touch more melancholy, she added, “But every time I see them, I want to stand up and yell at everyone that rocks and minerals are more interesting than that, because it feels like these polished stones and other kinds of jewels are the only kind of beauty that people care about. For all kinds of rocks and minerals… I don’t think they possess a beauty that is just skin-deep. But when you limit the conversation to just rocks, because they look so different, the interests just don’t overlap…” She glanced up at me, seemed to realize that the type of person she was talking about was right next to her, and hurried to clarify. “Ah—I didn’t mean that as a strike against you though, Seigi-kun.”

“No, I totally understand,” I quickly reassured her. “I mean, in an ideal world, that’s how we want to think of other people, too, right? Without judging based on the outside alone. And I think anyone would want to share their interest with more people. So, if what you like is rarer, or unappreciated, it feels sad, right?”

“Right,” Tanimoto-san said. She smiled. “…I really am glad we get to talk about gemstones. I always feel like I end up hearing something interesting.”

Not for the first time, I thought that Tanimoto-san was some kind of angel. I truly didn’t have any questions about rocks to reciprocate with, except— “There’s a few rocks that do count as gemstones, right?” I asked. “Like lapis lazuli.”

“You remembered!” Tanimoto-san exclaimed. “Lapis lazuli’s a particularly special rock, you know,” she said, a gleam in her eyes. “Historically, it was used to make this very expensive blue paint…”

“Ah—ultramarine, right?”

“Exactly!” Tanimoto-san said, clapping her hands in excitement. “Seems like you’re already an expert on it, Seigi-kun.”

“I just heard it in passing,” I explained sheepishly. “That customer from before—he and my boss talked about ultramarine for a bit.” I paused to recollect the various times I’d spotted the stone in Jewelry Étranger. “Though, the stone looks so unbelievable to me on its own that it feels strange to think it would ever be used for paint…”

“It is one of the beauties of metamorphism,” Tanimoto-san agreed. Or at least, I was assuming she was.

“Sorry, but… what exactly is metamorphism again?” I asked. “I feel like I’ve heard the term before, and I just don’t remember.”

Despite the various expressions I’d put on her face today and in all the other conversations we’d had, this was the first time I’d ever seen Tanimoto-san look truly dumbfounded. It took me a while to even realize that was the expression on her face, until she cleared her throat and said, “I guess you said yourself you didn’t know much about rocks, but… well, I thought this was common knowledge, and maybe it… isn’t?” Worriedly, like she’d just learned she was privy to a secret for which she hadn’t voluntarily been made a confidant, she asked, “I mean, everyone knows that the three common classifications of rocks are sedimentary, igneous, and metamorphic, right?”

“…That rings a bell?” I said unconvincingly.

Her eyes flickered towards the classroom—she had only a few minutes before her next class started, so I imagined she would head inside, but instead she squared her shoulders, formed a distinctly “Golgo” look on her face, and said, “Well—metamorphic rocks are basically a type of rock that’s actually a combination of other rocks and minerals. So that’s how lapis lazuli has that beautiful gold coloring—it comes from the pyrite that’s part of the rock. The main blue comes from lazurite, but there’s many more mineral components that are mixed in with an average lapis lazuli.”

“And metamorphism is how these rocks form?”

“Right,” Tanimoto-san said. “Basically, they’re put under a lot of heat and pressure, and because of that, the composition of the rock ends up changing—so, for lapis lazuli, all these separate things fuse—or the crystal structure shifts, which is a kind of complicated thing to explain… But by the end, the new rock is distinct when compared to the simple sum of its parts. Something like marble or slate… you wouldn’t call simply a combination of other things, right?”

“I would never have known unless you told me… that’s amazing,” I marveled. “In a way… it’s kind of nature’s own heat treatment, huh?”

“That’s true,” Tanimoto-san said. “Just one without any motivation.”

This was something that had always fascinated me regarding jewels. Of course, it was untrue that they existed without human involvement. But before any human had laid eyes upon it, lapis lazuli had always been that brilliant combination of blue and gold. That, to me, was something like a miracle.

“You must have had an interesting customer this week, right?” Tanimoto-san guessed.

I shook myself out of my thoughts. “What?”

“Well, Seigi-kun, you’re always curious,” she said, “So maybe it’s nothing. But this time you look like you really want to say something to someone.” She tapped the space between her brows. “Don’t let it give you wrinkles, though!��

With that, she hurried into class, taking her seat just a few seconds before the professor began her lecture. I was left standing dumbly in the hallway, stuck with my swirling thoughts. Though I’d glossed over it at first, I supposed I was of the same mind as Tanimoto-san; dyeing stones felt more like concealment than enhancement. And then I remembered what I likely wasn’t meant to hear—surely that dyed agate is prettier—and reached up to my forehead.

Sure enough, I was frowning. I wanted to pull out my phone and text Richard something along the lines of This is your fault, but that would be truly nonsensical, and really, what I wanted wasn’t to assign something like blame. But since I couldn’t just run to him, I decided to follow Tanimoto-san’s advice and smooth out my expression.

———

“Ah… Nakata-san?”

Richard had said that most serendipitous encounters were just a natural consequence of learning more about the world, but I was pretty sure this situation was the exclusive work of strange fortune. Though I doubted this surprise encounter would go as badly as the last one had, the sharp sense of déjà vu kept me wary.

Still, I inhaled a breath of crisp morning air, and replied, “It’s alright to call me Seigi.”

I was looking up at the face of Hanzawa Masato, who truthfully had been the furthest thing from my mind in the past few days. That space in my brain had been usurped and summarily overwhelmed by the tedium of classes and assignments. If I had to learn how to draw another kind of economic model using another set of conditions and parameters, my head was going to burst. In fact, my head ached at the thought alone.

Now that we were face to face again, though, the rigamarole of university had all but disappeared from my mind, and I watched his face contort into an expression halfway between awkwardness and concern. The awkwardness was a given—I hadn’t expected to run into him either. Half the reason for his concern was a girl from my university who I’d just learned was called Kaede. And the other half of his concern—a quarter of his total expression—was in response to seeing me, who’d just been shoved into the side of a building.

Maybe that was the reason my head ached. It was certainly the reason I was sitting down and staring up at him.

“Are you okay?” Kaede fretted. She had sunk into a worried crouch in front of me, hands hovering around my head like she could divine the nature of my injuries.

I pressed a hand to my cheek, which was stinging, but didn’t feel scraped, and hauled myself upright. Any dizziness I’d felt had faded, and though one of my arms felt numb, I’d gotten worse injuries doing karate. “I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just a surface-level injury. Probably looks worse than it is. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine—not a scratch!” she reported, standing up to demonstrate her lack of injury. “I had no idea he would do that, though. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be,” I cut in before she could self-flagellate. “It’s not your fault at all.”

Were I feeling charitable, I’d point out that I didn’t think the guy in question had even meant to push me into a wall—he’d just meant to push me and bolt. But he was also the kind of asshole that cornered people against the side of a building, so I wasn’t going to defend him in the slightest.

“What happened?” Hanzawa asked.

I felt a little ill-at-ease seeing the sheer expressiveness on his face. Of course, it made sense that he’d be so frazzled, considering what had just happened to his friend, but it was uncomfortable to see his lack of composure. Like this, he looked like an ordinary, unremarkable teenager.

Kaede wrung her hands, stumbling through her words. “I—you know that senior who was bothering me? Well, he cornered me, and we started arguing, and then”—she gestured in my direction—“he hit him and ran away.”

“I heard shouting, so I came over here,” I added when Hanzawa looked to me for further explanation.

It was really as simple as that. After exiting a horrendously early class, I’d heard arguing near the shadowed side of the building. And once I’d seen Kaede telling the other guy to leave her alone, I’d intervened without hesitation. He’d started aggressively posturing at me before shoving me to the side and running away.

The sharp spike of adrenaline I’d felt at the time was now wearing off, and my injuries began to twinge. I took a deep breath, and in an effort not to dash after the guy, I suggested, “We should make a report or something.”

“Oh, right,” Kaede said, fishing out her phone. “There’s like… campus administration or something, right? Let me find out wherever it’s located.” She paused in thought. “Wait… do you two know each other?”

“We just met by coincidence once,” I said, figuring that Hanzawa would value his privacy.

It was enough of an answer for Kaede, who just laughed and said, “Masato-kun knows, like, everyone, so it’s not really a surprise!”

I was relieved to see that she didn’t seem too shaken by everything.

Soon enough, we were pointed the way of campus authorities, and I learned the full story while Kaede made her report. Apparently, this guy had been bothering her for a while after they’d met at a mixer—he’d seen her waiting to meet up with Hanzawa, and then blown up at her when she declined to spend time with him. Since he already had quite a few conduct violations on his record, the administration assured us that they’d act quickly.

Their urgency might have also been prompted by the blatant injury on my face. Every time someone turned to face me, they would reflexively wince at the circle of reddened skin on my cheek. I’d seen it in a mirror while getting my injuries checked out—I was officially deemed concussion-free, which was a relief—and had flinched at my own reflection in surprise.

Amidst the commotion, Hanzawa stayed level-headed, guiding Kaede through the motions of making a report. Even though he wasn’t a student at my university—a fact which was strangely relieving to confirm—it was like he’d gone through this process before. I thought he’d escort Kaede home, too, but once everything had been squared away, she called some of her university friends to pick her up. They arrived with a slew of inventive insults that seemed to cheer Kaede up in an instant. She thanked me again as we swapped numbers, and then she waved us goodbye as she was whisked away by her friends.

“You’re not going with her?” I asked.

“Her other friends will be much better at taking her mind off things,” he said. “Besides, they all go to your university, so they can accompany her during classes.” He turned to face me as he spoke, and though he didn’t wince, his gaze lingered on my cheek.

“I’m alright,” I said. “I even got an ice pack when we were making the report.”

“Still…” Hanzawa said. Hesitantly, he asked, “Could I treat you to lunch? Or a coffee?”

The sun was high in the sky. On one hand, I wasn’t particularly hungry, but coffee sounded nice, and I didn’t have classes until later this evening. On the other hand, Hanzawa looked like he was already regretting the offer.

But Tanimoto-san was right; I had a few things I wanted to say to him. And despite his hesitation, it looked like Hanzawa felt the same.

“Sure,” I said. “You can pick the place.”

———

Hanzawa’s coffee order was a little more complicated than mine. Hearing him rattle off his order made me realize that Richard was right to only offer tea at his shop. The café he’d picked out was like many of the other cafés I’d been to—peaceful, atmospheric, and a neutral ground for conversations. Once we’d taken our seats, we each waited in a brittle kind of silence.

Hanzawa began to fiddle with his phone, and I took it as a clear indication he wasn’t ready to talk. My coffee arrived first, so I savored it while gazing through one of the café windows. Outside, the weather had snapped into a bitter frost, as it seemed wont to do whenever I wasn’t looking. I shivered a little—even inside the temperature-regulated café, I’d dressed a little lightly for the cold—and let the coffee’s steam curl against my skin. Though I couldn’t call myself a connoisseur, I’d begun to appreciate coffee for more than its caffeine.

It was just one more thing I’d learned how to treasure since I’d met Richard. Thinking of him, I reflexively touched my face. We weren’t anywhere near Ginza, but I could imagine the shop’s entrance in front of me as I stared out the window.

“Is there something you’re worried about?”

I started, noting that Hanzawa’s coffee had appeared between his hands. He held the cup strangely, his fingers curled around the sides without any pressure; I worried that it might slip from his fingers if he tried to lift it. Still, the pose seemed so natural for him that I wondered if he’d held the tea at Jewelry Étranger the same way, and I just hadn’t noticed. Like that time, any initial hesitation of his had melted away into a self-assured grace.

“I was just thinking…” I replied, tapping my reddened skin, “it’s going to bruise.”

“Ah,” Hanzawa said. His eyes darted around the room—he could probably sense the curious looks I’d gotten, too, but that wasn’t my main concern. “You’re worried about your weekend work, I assume?”

“No, it’s—actually, yeah, I am,” I said, cutting off my instinctive denial. First Tanimoto-san, and now Hanzawa… I wondered if my face was just becoming easier to read.

“I doubt a bruised face is good for customer service,” he added, clarifying exactly where my thoughts had headed.

I explained, “I’d rather not scare the customers, and it’s something I’ve done even without my face like this, so…”

“That would be troubling,” Hanzawa said. “I’d apologize for the situation, but…”

“There’s no need for apologies,” I stressed. “You and Kaede already thanked me, and there’s no need to apologize for someone else’s mistakes.”

Still holding the cup as if it were air, Hanzawa slowly sipped his coffee. My attention was drawn to his fingers, which were exceptionally long, and neatly trimmed at the nails. “I’m glad you think so, Seigi—it’s alright to call you that, yes?” When I nodded, he set his cup down and made a confession: “I’m not entirely without ulterior motives, though—it’s not every day you meet someone with your job, you know? I like hearing from interesting people, so this is just me indulging in my curiosity, really. What was the application process like?”

“Ah… I didn’t quite apply,” I answered. Maybe I’d just developed a streak of cynicism, but I didn’t believe that he had invited me to coffee out of pure curiosity. I briefly imagined someone taking my place—making tea, talking with Richard, and learning about our clients—and felt a wave a jealousy so strong that I added, “I don’t really think he’s looking to hire anyone new…”

Hanzawa laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m just asking out of curiosity. I’m not looking for a job right now.”

“Ah,” I said, and drank some of my coffee to cover my embarrassment. “Anyways, even when we first met, I don’t think he was looking to hire anyone.”

“Is that so?” Hanzawa asked, a clear prompt for me elaborate.

I had no desire to do so. Instead, I was distracted by the thought of Hanzawa as an employee of Jewelry Étranger. He seemed like he would excel at any job related to customer service, particularly when it came to making conversation. Even now, though I was conscious of the fact that he was leading the conversation, it didn’t bother me. But he wouldn’t know what sweets Richard liked best, or how to watch his expressions to figure out if he was enjoying them. And he wouldn’t know how to brew royal milk tea—not that I’d known that, either…

“I approached him about a family heirloom of mine, and he offered me a job afterwards,” I finally summed up.

Thankfully, Hanzawa didn’t pry any further. “I can see why,” he said. “Something about you must have been unique enough to convince him, right?”

“…You think so?” I asked, ducking my head. It was amazing how one word—unique—was enough to dispel my worries. Saying I had a talent for recognizing beauty—that already made me feel like the most special person in the world. The implication that Richard recognizing that had been a testament to my uniqueness was unbelievably flustering. Rather than think about it for too long, I downed my coffee.

“I just thought that if he wasn’t looking to hire someone,” Hanzawa said, “it means that you must have been important enough to ask for, anyways. The atmosphere at your store would make one think you two had been friends for years.”

I felt warmer than usual. “I just… guess we aligned somehow,” I murmured, feeling a need to deflect the compliment. As much as I privately liked to think of our meeting as “fate,” hearing it from a veritable stranger was something else. “Richard is—he’s almost too incredible, I think. I’m lucky to work there.”

Hanzawa considered my statement carefully, and then asked, “Is it—and I could be overstepping, here, but—is it kind of a… scary feeling?”

“No, you’re right,” I said, feeling a euphoric rush of shared understanding. “It’s—I’m happy, of course. It’s impossible not to be. But it almost makes everything else pale in comparison—”

“And you begin to wonder where you’d be without it,” Hanzawa concluded, perfectly reading my mind.

I sighed. “I mean… it’s not like this will be my job forever, you know? But still, compared to going to university, whenever it’s the weekend, I feel like I’m ten times as real. Like I exist as… I don’t know, more than I am.”

“As in… you’re able to express yourself more?” Hanzawa asked.

I shook my head. “No, it’s like… I’m a more impressive person, even though nothing about me changes,” I said. “It feels like my actions have more meaning. And my world keeps expanding, each time.” When he didn’t respond, still wrapping his head around my words, I added, “…It might be a bit strange to blabber on and on about my job satisfaction. But I really think that being able to work where I do is a miracle of some kind.”

“I see what you mean,” he finally replied as he sipped his coffee. “In a way, Richard-san’s store feels like… a place that’s too good to be true, it could be said?”

“That’s exactly it!” I exclaimed. “And then once you meet Richard, it’s like… he’s a fairy prince or something that’s descended on the mortal world…”

Hanzawa fell into a sudden coughing fit.

I scrambled out of my seat, but he weakly waved me off, and so I stood over the table, watching him regain control of his throat. “Are you alright?”

He took a few deep breaths. “I’m fine,” he said, though he looked obviously embarrassed as he met my eyes. “I was just—taken off guard, I guess. You must really respect Richard-san. Have you… told him this?”

With a new understanding as to why Kaede had so uselessly hovered around me, I slipped back into my own seat. “Well, of course,” I said slowly, wondering what I wasn’t getting. “I needed to express my gratitude to him.”

Hanzawa stared up at the ceiling like he’d received some kind of divine revelation. “And he reacted… well?” he ventured.

I suddenly remembered the many, many times Richard had scolded me for speaking without considering the implications, and I grimaced. “I’m not great with words, so I’ve definitely put my foot in my mouth a few times, but… sincerity is worth the embarrassment, I think,” I said, refraining from adding that I liked to think it was at least part of the reason he’d hired me. “And, though he’s annoyingly mysterious sometimes, he’s sincere to me, too.”

“How nice…” It was impossible not to hear the wistful edge in Hanzawa’s voice. He seemed to hear it too, because he added, “Well, I do wish you two the best,” with a knowing smile.

It wasn’t hard to pick up on the distance in his voice. Despite talking about Richard and the shop, Hanzawa hadn’t once mentioned his own visit or his upcoming appointment.

Before I could prod him about it, Hanzawa cleared his throat and asked, “You’ve finished your coffee?”

I looked down at my cup, which had been empty for quite a while. “Yeah,” I said, bracing for a quick goodbye.

A strange look passed over Hanzawa’s face as he drained his cup, and he set it down on the table with a soft clink. His gaze moved sideways—I followed his line of sight, but it led nowhere. “If—if the bruising is a problem,” Hanzawa haltingly began, “I could… I might have a solution.”

The words looked painful for him to say. “You’re already treating me to coffee,” I assured. “There’s no need to do me another favor.”

He shook his head, firmer. “This… as I said, this was kind of a selfish request, anyways. If you’re willing, I’d be happy to help.”

I wasn’t about to turn down the chance to hear him talk. Maybe, if I gathered enough courage, I’d even be able to ask him about dyed stones. “Well… what did you have in mind?”

———

Much like the first time I’d visited the jewelry section of a department store, I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. This time, it wasn’t at the sight of diamonds as far as the eye could see, but of the bright lights, glossy photos, and shelves upon shelves of products I wasn’t sure how to name. I half-recognized some of the brand names scattered around the store, but otherwise felt wholly out of my depth.

Were it not for the presence of a guide, I’d have never come here. But Hanzawa was shifting his feet next to me, a skittish look in his eyes like he was convinced I’d back out at any moment. That was the same way he’d broached the subject, too, saying, “Well… you could probably cover that bruise with makeup,” in a tone so soft I’d barely heard him.

“How?” I’d asked, pouncing on the option a little too eagerly.

Hanzawa drummed his fingers against his empty cup. “It’s pretty easy,” he said. “I could teach you, but we’d have to buy some products, because we don’t have the same skin tone.” He mulled over his next words.

“There’s a department store near here,” I offered.

At that, he seemed to relax. “My older sister is really into makeup and costuming,” he said with a light laugh, “so I ended up being forced into knowing a few things myself.”

Things moved quickly after that. He paid for my coffee, and I followed him to the nearest department store before he could have too many second thoughts. It wasn’t like I didn’t understand his hesitation—we were still practically strangers, and this was an offer that required considerable involvement on his part. Still, more than anything, I didn’t want to skip work. And as little as I knew Hanzawa, he seemed like the kind of person who would never suggest something that wasn’t an actual solution.

“You’ll have to lead the way,” I finally prompted.

Hanzawa paused and corrected his posture. “Right,” he said, picked up a basket near the entrance, and then struck a path through the various displays, waving off staff with a polite, inscrutable smile.

For all he’d been hesitant, Hanzawa navigated the store with a brilliant kind of confidence. Apart from the two of us, there were barely any men in the store, but Hanzawa didn’t look out of place in the slightest. Soon enough we were left to wander around unapproached.

Finally, we came to a stop in front of a display that carried a variety of tubes in a variety of skin tones. Hanzawa leaned forward to inspect them, and I caught sight of the barely visible piercing holes in his ears.

“You’re not wearing earrings,” I observed.

He answered me without turning his head. “I suppose it’s a leftover habit from high school,” he said thoughtfully. “I didn’t wear them in class, because—well, it’s a bit of a delinquent look, and I was the president of the disciplinary club.”

That explained why he’d been so composed when helping Kaede earlier. I wonder if he’d acquired that sense of reliability from his time in the club, or if had been the reason he’d joined. “What… am I supposed to get, here?” I asked, pointing at the display.

“To cover your bruise, we’ll need concealer, foundation, and a setting spray, probably? So right now, we’re looking for foundations that match your skin tone. What color do you usually bruise?”

“…Purple, I guess?”

“Then we’ll get a yellow color corrector to offset it,” Hanzawa said, plucking a foundation from the shelf. He held it up to the light—the color was kind of close to my skin, I supposed, but there were a lot that looked just like it.

“How are you supposed to figure out the right color?” I asked.

“Oh—you can sample it,” Hanzawa said, and he motioned for me to hold my hand out. We swatched various foundations on the back of my hand as Hanzawa explained to me the basic methodology for covering a bruise. The color corrector would negate the purple hues of my bruise, concealer would properly cover it up with my actual skin tone, and foundation would provide a smooth cover that blended with the rest of my face. The setting spray was just to make sure everything held for the entire time I was working. “You’ll probably want makeup brushes, too,” Hanzawa said as he explained how to apply everything. “We can buy some, or I could maybe lend you mine…”

I could see him trying to work out how to lend me makeup brushes in a way that wouldn’t require an additional meeting. “No, I’ll get one of my own,” I said.

“You sure?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s kind of weird to say this, but… somehow, I feel like this may not be the last time I need something like this?”

Satisfied with the last foundation we’d tried, Hanzawa showed me how to remove all the makeup on my hand before leading me to another display. There he found a standard set of makeup brushes and gingerly placed it into his basket. “Well, I suppose you do lead quite an exciting life,” he commented.

“This is the first time I’ve gotten injured,” I said. “But there are a lot of interesting people at Richard’s shop, so I guess I do end up having interesting experiences.” I paused. Like this, actually, I didn’t say, and instead asked, “You mentioned your older sister taught you this?”

“It’s not really that I was taught,” Hanzawa clarified. “It was more like… a natural consequence of existing around her? I ended up knowing a lot of the terminology, and I’d get dragged to places like these, too. At that point, you have to at least learn the basics.”

I’d never had a sibling before, so I wondered if it was natural for everyone to pick up skills from their family like this. With my mother, we’d always maintained a certain sense of distance, and with my stepfather overseas, the only one who could maybe qualify as family was Richard. Who I had, indeed, learned a lot from. “And you learned more on your own, afterwards?”

“Well, at my high school, our cultural festival holds a cross-dressing competition each year—it was an all-boys school, hence the tradition—and I ended up learning a bit more because of that. One of my classmates actually attends cosmetology school, now, which is where I learned how to do this.” He gestured in the direction of my reddened cheek.

I reached up on instinct, suddenly conscious of the fact that I was walking around with such an obvious injury. I’d attributed the stares of passerby to the fact that I looked out of place in a makeup store, but this was probably the real reason.

Hanzawa studied my face, and his tone gentled. “It’s been a valuable skill to me,” he murmured. “Makeup gives us the ability to beautify.”

Hand still pressed against my cheek, I confessed, “I’d never really thought of it that way, before. Though I don’t really know anything, really. But I’d always thought of it as… having something to hide, I guess.” I felt like a fool as soon as the words left my mouth.

“Well,” Hanzawa said, still low and quiet, “I suppose we are aiming to hide that bruise of yours. But there is value even in concealment, I think.” A wry smile graced his mouth. “Speaking of.”

We’d lingered for too long in one place, and so we moved to collect a bottle of setting spray and a pale-yellow color corrector before stopping to search through a row of concealers. As we compared various shades on my hand, I recalled the conversation I’d had with Richard about tiramisu.

“…Don’t people also value the truth, though?” I asked.

The shade Hanzawa had tested was far darker than it had looked in the tube. He paused over my hand, and without lifting his head, said, “Perhaps I’m being cynical… but I think most people only value the truth when it is beautiful.” He paused to dab a different concealer on my hand. “I don’t think you’re wrong—people do value authenticity. That’s exactly why so many makeup advertisements discuss how to achieve a natural look, or how to enhance your natural features by smoothing out ‘imperfections’… we’ve defined a kind of beauty that is meant to emulate reality, but that doesn’t mean it is reality.”

Though I couldn’t see his expression, I could hear the raw sincerity in his voice. Something clicked into place, and I realized that for Hanzawa, enhancement was the same as concealment.

“The kinds of beauty we recognize are usually just skin-deep, huh…” I said, echoing the conversation I’d had with Tanimoto-san.

“And everyone prefers to be beautiful,” Hanzawa said.

Yamamoto-san, too, had thought that beauty was a great advantage. “Doesn’t beauty come with its own disadvantages, though?” I asked. At Hanzawa’s curious look, I paraphrased how Richard had described his own experiences. “Like, if you’re so beautiful that people think you’re unapproachable, isn’t that hard?”

“I suppose so,” Hanzawa said. “You’re talking about a kind of… unreal beauty, right? Like your boss.”

“Ah… was it obvious?”

Hanzawa smiled. “A little.” He hummed for a bit in thought, and then said, “In either direction, I think there’s a fear of… standing out, or looking odd. That’s why we’re here. Though I suppose there might be some people who have enough pride to eschew standards.”

The shade he’d just tried was a perfect match. “When you put it that way… there’s definitely times I don’t want to say everything about myself,” I conceded, remembering how I’d felt when confronted by Mami-san’s deep, uncomfortable sense of shame. “Having that kind of pride is… an ideal, but just that.” As much as Richard liked to ask if I had ever decided to think before I spoke, I, too, had things I found hard to say.

“That’s everything, I think,” Hanzawa said, adding the concealer to the basket. “I’ve got makeup wipes with me, so you can just have them. Since we’re here, though, do you mind if I make a quick detour?”

“Go ahead,” I said, and Hanzawa drifted through the store at a leisurely pace, inspecting different products. I took the time to observe the various advertisements pasted around the store, noting that Hanzawa’s description hadn’t been incorrect. Then I observed the array of colors scattered around the store as Hanzawa inspected different kinds of eyeshadow. “I guess blue is rare here, too.”

“Hm?”

“I was just reminded of ultramarine,” I said, pointing towards the overwhelming set of pinks and reds in a collection of lipsticks. “It was prized not just because the stone was precious, but because blue was a rare pigment color, right?”

“…Lapis lazuli sure was a precious stone,” Hanzawa replied. “In addition to blue’s rarity, I’d think it would be hard to collect pieces without significant gold spots. When ground into pigment, those colors would muddy the blue. If one needed to source pure blue lapis lazuli for ultramarine, that would only further increase its rarity and value.”

“Wait, are you majoring in economics?” I blurted out, a little bewildered by the clarity of his explanation.

Distracted from his inspection of an eyeshadow palette, Hanzawa turned to squint at me, bemused. “No, I’m not,” he said. “Are you?”

“I am, yeah.” I floundered, wondering how to explain that for just a moment, Hanzawa had reminded me of Richard. Maybe he was training to be a diplomat—that would explain why even when he spoke casually, every word felt measured. He was certainly better at speaking than me, who couldn’t figure out how to casually ask him what he was actually majoring in.

At my lost expression, Hanzawa laughed and went back to searching through eyeshadows. “…You actually remind me of someone I know.”

“How so?”

“A few things, I think,” Hanzawa said. “You’re both… open to many new experiences.” Though the fondness in his voice was palpable, it was deeply careful, like he was letting me know the shades of some terrible secret.

“You don’t find them exciting?”

“And equally likely to be hurtful,” he rebutted, though not aggressively.

Hanzawa took my answering silence as agreement—which it partially was—and continued looking around the store. Conscious of the time we’d spent wandering, he explained, “The color I’m looking for is uncommon. Eyeshadows have more variety than lipsticks do, but the majority stay within the range of pinks to browns.”

“Even though it’s not a problem to make blue pigment anymore, it’s still a matter of supply and demand, isn’t it?” I surmised. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone wear blue lipstick.”

“The kind of people that do are amazing to me,” Hanzawa said. “Whether it’s simply a matter of liking it or wanting to be deviant from the norm—I think there’s a great strength in accepting oneself as anomalous.”

Finally, he picked out a sparkly lime green eyeshadow, and after holding the color up to the light, tucked it into his basket. It was no wonder he’d spent so much time searching—while accompanying him, I hadn’t seen a single product that looked like it.

“You really are fond of that color,” I noted.

Hanzawa froze for a moment. “It’s for—the cultural festival, actually,” he explained. “I’m helping them out.”

“Oh, I do something like that too—it’s with the karate class I used to attend back in middle school, though,” I shared. “You must be close with your juniors?”

As we entered the checkout line, Hanzawa said, “I think it’s something like a leftover sense of responsibility. That guy… we used to be in the same club.”

Before I could ask him what that guy meant, our attention was redirected to the cashier in front of us. She looked surprised to see two men in front of her, but quickly began scanning the items before her. “Picking up products for your girlfriends?” she asked with a smile, clearly hoping to ease our nerves.

Hanzawa stepped forward, partially obscuring my view. “It’s for my older sister, actually,” he replied, the same smile mirrored on his face. “I just hope I’ve gotten it right!”

Caught up in his mild, inconsequential lie, I stood there, hands hung limply at my side, as I realized that apart from her initial shock, she hadn’t once glanced at my cheek. To be accurate, Hanzawa hadn’t let her. This was probably what he’d meant by the value of concealment. It was like when Richard had pretended not to speak Japanese at that department store. While it wasn’t the truth, it was the option that limited any unwanted misunderstandings.

…Was it really because of his older sister that he’d learned how to do makeup? Or was that just the easiest explanation?

We exited the store with our purchases, and I handed over the eyeshadow to Hanzawa. He slipped it into his messenger bag, and in return, produced a pack of makeup wipes for me to take. “If you forget what to do, there’s a bunch of tutorials online,” Hanzawa reassured, gesturing to my bag of makeup.

“Thanks for the help,” I said. “I had a nice time, too—I feel like I got to hear from an interesting person, as well.”

“Don’t think too much of it—I was really just rambling,” he said dismissively before offering me a tight smile. “I do hope work goes well for you this weekend.”

“…You’ll know, won’t you?” I asked, summoning a bit of courage. “Since you’ll be there.”

“Ah,” Hanzawa said, and stilled before giving his confirmation. “…Yes, I will.”

With that promise exacted from him, we naturally said our goodbyes and parted at a nearby street. The early morning chill had faded somewhat under the sun, and as I made my way back to campus, I thought about the many ways Richard’s face might change upon seeing Hanzawa arrive at his appointment. He wouldn’t give me a raise, but I’d get something out of it, nonetheless.

#cfojr #my writing #hanzawa to tashiro #hanzawa masato #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #the anomalous agate #<3 loved seeing the responses to ch 1 again btw.#and apologies for any typos i might have missed!#I think I could edit this more for like. minor flip flopping on how I phrase sentences but #if I do that this would never actually get posted lol #other things: I considered splitting this ch into two (pausing before the cafe) but decided not to #in return ch 3 is likely to be much shorter #in fact every ch should be. I’ve only got 4 scenes left including the epilogue #though how much does that mean. sure ch 2 was 4 scenes but yknow what was 1? ch 1.#jeweler richard

19 notes · View notes