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Daybreak.
The time where soft rays peak through the blinds as speckles of orange hues mix with indigo at the horizon, ushering in the glow of the rising sun that outshines the light of the moon. Large, wispy clouds embellish the scenery while steady wind carries the sounds of singing birds to the windowsills of old fashioned houses.
There’s small moments in a person’s life that may not get much thought. Routines easily taken for granted but have so much impact on the rest of the day.
Out of all the small mudanities of day to day affairs, Grimmer’s favorite has to be dawn.
This morning was no exception.
He rose in a haze, vision too blurry to see the clock but enough awareness to tell it was early. Somehow, rather impressively given the man’s track record, he woke up before him .
He pulled back the white sheets and carefully sat up to study the figure of the man turned away from him. He took comfort in watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest in alignment with the relaxed curve of his shoulders. Black hair tucked behind his ears allowed Grimmer to notice the subtle flickering of eyelashes and flutter of nostrils with each even breath.
In all his quiet vulnerability, Tenma looked peaceful. His form exuded a serenity well deserved and the sight of him made Grimmer think about a certain word that came to mind when the two of them are together behind closed doors.
Intimacy.
In truth, Grimmer hadn’t foreseen any chance of being with another person after his ex-wife filed for divorce. He swore off marriage as something he simply couldn’t do to anyone else again for either of their sakes. Dating didn’t really make sense given the messy complexity of it all and whatever existing romance that didn’t fall into either of those two categories wasn’t imaginable.
It’s unfair for anyone to have to deal with the burdens of a situation so complicated. It’s foolish and perhaps cruel to expect someone to accept, let alone settle for a man who deems himself unfinished and embrace such a project in their personal life. It was a highly unlikely scenario, one that Grimmer didn’t have to worry about getting his hopes up for because he never dreamed of it coming to fruition in the first place. That kind of life wasn’t built for him and gazing into that world from the outside with general apathy meant he never asked for it. Even so, he didn’t rule out the possibility completely. At least, the more time he spent with Tenma, the more he realized he couldn’t.
Grimmer assumed with the advent of any new relationship, approaching intimacy again would make it comparable to relearning a language.
With Tenma, it’s like learning a new language entirely.
In fact, Tenma expressed a really interesting idea to him when they began to figure themselves out.
“This might sound selfish and a little overzealous but... if possible, I think it would be nice for us to have something different. You know, something that’s not like how things were for me and Eva or how it went for you and your ex-wife.”
Grimmer remembered the shyness in Tenma’s voice and how it vanished when he looked into his eyes and promised him patience. He recalled the conviction in his words when he promised to listen carefully and make an effort to read between unclear lines while still respecting the things that can't always be said.
He finds it odd that Tenma described his suggestion as selfish. To him, it’s more selfless than anything. From Grimmer’s perspective, Tenma is giving him an opportunity to reinvent what it means to be close to someone very important. He’s laying down the groundwork necessary to learn how to build bridges and cross them not because of any pressure to adhere to a script. In retrospect, Grimmer couldn’t say he didn’t consent to his ex wife. Discomfort wasn’t the issue as much as there was a lack of emotional resolve. He wanted to experience so much with her and value it as strongly as she professed but his heart just wasn’t there.
Nevertheless….It’s different now. It’s faint on occasion but its presence is growing. His emotions, unfiltered and raw enough to call his own come easier now. They don’t fade away as easily anymore nor does he find an obligation to wear a mask as a simulation. He doesn’t have to tell himself how to act as much. Movement, expressions, and desires are hard to conceive but in this revolutionary endeavor each of them flows slowly and naturally not because a book or any person told him it was right.
It just indescribably feels that way.
It’s of course a lie to say it’s like that every day. Regressions happen more than Grimmer wants to admit. But, it’s not wrong to realize a new type of consciousness is blooming within.
And to have Tenma be the one to bear witness to the development of a catalyst he helped create is…
...touching? Moving. No. Something stronger than that.
For the first time in Grimmer’s life, someone is walking him through the motions of affection not in an effort to make him a mirror image nor a projection of a one sided dream but out of a desire to prove he had the capacity for genuine connections somewhere tucked away the entire time.
Tenma offered him a love that is occasionally soft and hesitant. One that could be straightforward and bold but always kind. Always asking.
“How does this feel?”
Foreign. Gentle. Welcoming.
“What’s on your mind?”
Not sure how to say it. Several things, maybe? Certainly you.
Tenma has this remarkable ability where he generally leads with caution yet follows in stride and knows how to wait for yes, yield when he sees his partner slow down, and come to a halt when faced with an overloaded response. Amazingly, he never seems disappointed with the changes in motion nor did he seem to act with any set expectations in his head, much to Grimmer’s relief.
Yes, the love he offered him is so compassionate and sweet.
It’s almost too much.
Tenma has a manner of speaking and showing affection that makes the world feel warm and safe. He can say “I love you” with a series of soft touches and kisses and literal words in such a way that Grimmer doesn’t hear it passively but feels it actively. The rush of heat in those instances is invigorating in its own right but oftentimes the true effects take longer to emerge.
Grimmer learned it could take weeks for an “I love you” to really sink in but once it does, it seizes his entire being. Perhaps that could explain the time he stood in the living room, sorting through laundry and thinking about Tenma coming home from work in the evening before something overtook him. The sensation made an unfolded shirt slip through trembling hands and left him wondering what is this? What is this sudden revelation that makes his mouth go dry and his breathing hitch? But more importantly, it left him wondering why? Why did so many physiological responses go off immediately like a broken light switch unexpectedly closing a circuit for electricity to course through?
Why did that simple thought of him make everything shake? Why, almost at random, did his chest tighten and his stomach flutter in tension and…. and his eyes begin to well up with tears?
The love Tenma provides is overwhelming to receive some days but only because he has so much to give. It’s unfathomable. Sublime.
A deep inhale and an unintelligible murmur from the man in question pulled Grimmer out of reminiscing and back into the present moment. By that time, more light crept into the room as the sun painted over most of the violet in the sky, blending into a fusion of faded blues and pinkish tones. He was still sleeping soundly, as he should Grimmer might add but more than that he found himself concerned with something else.
He wants to reciprocate. Not just for last night, or the night before, or the promises made in formally starting what they have but for the effects of all of that and more. He admittedly doesn’t have much confidence but Tenma’s unwavering belief in his abilities has inspired him so much that it’s worth the constant effort to try.
“Kenzo.”
It wasn’t the first time Grimmer called out his given name. He started testing it lately when the house was empty like a strange ritual. There’s a certain closeness to names that he can’t help but acknowledge. They seem to have certain unwritten rules that govern dynamics between people.
Like when and where to say them.
He wanted to call it out again but that was decidedly not the best idea lest he disturb Tenma’s well needed rest. He tried imagining his reaction, troubled at the fact that he didn’t have any solid predictions whatsoever, leaving more questions than answers.
Would it sound weird to call him something so close?
Would he think it’s strange coming from him? Disingenuous even?
Would he laugh?
Would he get embarrassed?
Would he say anything at all?
How could something be so confusing and exciting all the same?
Ah! True excitement. How novel…
As for his own name, Grimmer doesn’t really care. To him, a name is a label. It gets peeled off when deemed unnecessary and replaced with another when convenient. For that reason, he isn’t really Wolfgang Grimmer or Neumeyer or anyone at all. He’s somebody as much as he is nobody. He explained this to Tenma when the doctor asked about calling him Wolfgang sometime ago. It’s a weird feeling, telling someone you don’t exist. That there’s a fluidity to your identity because parts of you have been forgotten or erased and well...it’s a story he couldn’t finish. Not that Tenma let him.
“Everyone knows what water is. There’s as many words for it as there are languages. That doesn’t mean it’s any less real.”
That doesn’t mean you aren’t real.
They were wonderful words spoken in the right place at the wrong time, decades far too gone to apply balm to a wound cut too deep. Beliefs don’t change overnight but fortunately, it doesn’t take much to question them.
But as encouraging as it was to hear, it didn’t answer the question of using his first name or not.
Problems. Grimmer has faith they will be solved and even more confidence that Tenma will be there to watch the process.
Tenma- no no, Kenzo…
He sighed.
It’s going to take a while to get used to this.
For now, Tenma turned over, eyes still shut as he faced Grimmer. Outstretched fingertips lazily brushed against the back of Grimmer’s hand before going limp, and the sensation sent a light spark down his arm. It reminded him how the raven haired man had this habit of affectionately reaching for things in his sleep as of late. These are touches he’d apologize for when he was conscious and they were never forceful or sudden but slow and imprecise. They’re often unfocused and uncertain attempts at contact occasionally lending itself to a grasp for a pillow that leads to an awkward brush of a hand against the nape of Grimmer’s neck, trailing down between his shoulder blades. Or a nudge of a foot against his calf, a movement too light to count as a kick but apparent enough to take notice.
In rare instances, the fidgeting can become more complex, like the time Grimmer pulled back the comforter in the middle of the night to pick up an unfinished book from their personal library. He wasn’t sure if the whine he heard alongside the floorboards creaking from the shift in weight came from Tenma’s mouth or his own imagination but it didn’t stop him from partaking in some light reading until he felt sleepy again. He didn’t know how much time had passed either but upon his return was surprised to find a rather restless Tenma, perhaps subconsciously looking for his partner, mere inches away from leaning too far sideways and falling off the bed completely.
Left to his own devices, Kenzo Tenma is a bit of a mess.
Grimmer lifted him back onto the mattress, careful to disentangle him from twisted sheets and like a rock, the doctor didn’t stir at all. Fortunately, he caught him just in time, undoubtedly saving Tenma from some painful late night confusion and sparing the both of them from an explanation to Dieter about what the loud thud in their bedroom was and how he ended up on the floor.
What a story that could’ve been.
But, contrary to how it may sound, the man never fights in his sleep. Instead, he physically attaches himself to Grimmer in a fashion that through trust, communicates a specific type of question:
A request to stay.
One quiet evening, he admitted that he isn’t quite used to having another person lie next to him like this again. Neither of them are.
After all, for a long period of his life, Tenma was lonely. Grimmer understood the textbook definition. By all accounts, he should’ve felt lonely too. Part of him thinks he knows what that means now.
Isolation. It’s a feeling no one should have.
So it’s okay when Tenma needs a warm, reassuring hug or when lost in a dream, wants to gradually guide his partner’s hand to wrap his arm around his waist. It’s alright if he needs a sign to know that Grimmer is here and he’s not going anywhere.
To keep him happy, no , to keep both of them happy, he will gladly oblige.
Whatever it takes.
Looking at Tenma now, he noticed a few rogue strands of hair resting on his face. Compared to his appearance in old photos, Grimmer could tell it had grown over the years from living in Düsseldorf. He did say he wants to cut it sooner or later. It’s definitely a handsome style but maybe it annoyed him to some degree.
It’s possible that the disheveled hair that tickled his nose was annoying him at this very moment and if that was the case, Grimmer wanted to fix it.
Can he feel that? Certainly he must.
He swept the strands behind his ear with a thumb, surprised to see the man did not flinch. Grimmer furrowed his brow.
Can he feel this too?
In a strange mesmerizing gaze, he watched his fingers travel down his side profile, caressing smooth skin. Right. He shaved the other day. The clean look is so nice on him.
As he held his cheek, Grimmer started to bend down and lean forward, close enough to feel his breath and smell the scent of fresh cotton and lavender from a shower the night before. Something about it was intoxicating and it made him lean closer until-
He stopped.
Where was he going? What was he doing?
“Grimmer.” Tenma’s gravelly morning voice broke his train of thought even further.
“Yes Doctor?”
In some ways, referring to him by occupation created some comfortable distance between the two when Grimmer needed to gather himself again.
“Why?”
His heartbeat pulsed in his ears as he stared back at an expression he couldn’t read.
Why what?
Fortunately he didn’t have to say that in order for Tenma to know what he was thinking.
“Why didn’t you kiss me?”
Oh.
“What do you mean?” Is that what he wanted?
As far as they’ve come, he’s still not the best at knowing the right time and the right place and how to go about all of this and yet...
“It just felt like...like that’s what you were going to do. But it’s okay,” Tenma started again, in the midst of a yawn, “if you're not sure.”
“Tell me something Doctor. How long have you been awake?”
It’s at that moment Tenma gazed back at Grimmer through half lidded eyes, a certain sweetness shining through them.
“Since you called me by my name.”
Oh. How long ago had that been?
Grimmer knew it was only a matter of minutes but couldn’t fathom why it seemed like an eternity ago.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I just-”
“You didn’t. It was nice hearing it from you.”
So this is his reaction. It isn’t excessive, or overblown, or confused or mean-spirited. Of course it isn't. It’s grounded.
It’s normal.
“Kenzo.” He liked the way it sounded the second time around. Slightly uncertain but carrying more confidence.
“Yes?”
Grimmer cupped his cheek again, admiring how Tenma naturally tilted his head into the touch like a mold fitting perfectly into place. He took a deep breath.
“Maybe this is an awkward thing to ask but…” he started to trail off but caught himself.
“Can I try again?”
Tenma nodded, lips slightly parted and that’s all he needed to close the distance between the two of them.
It’s daybreak.
Bathed in the light from the window, it seems unreal that Grimmer can experience his favorite time of day with one of his favorite people in the world. It’s difficult to know what that means and even harder to say it but, perhaps the feeling that emerges is stronger than words or thoughts can ever convey.
But that’s quite alright for Kenzo.
And it’s more than enough for him.