Chapter Text
Shion sat at his desk, pulling absentmindedly at his hair as he scoured yet another document. He’d been working all day and it felt like he’d hardly put a dent in the pile of paperwork on his desk. His work as the head of the Reconstruction Committee had been demanding, yet endlessly rewarding over the last five years. He’d been able to help people, really help people as humanity worked together to rebuild after the fall of No. 6. Five years ago, Elyurias was cast out from the city, the walls fell, and Shion had lost his lifelong friend, Safu. Nezumi had also left him then. Shion’s heart ached as he remembered the fiery redhead, leaving him with a heart-stopping kiss and the promise to see each other again someday.
Shion’s hand curled into a fist as he took a deep breath to ground himself; no time for reminiscing now. These people needed his help, and he was going to be sure to get them absolutely everything they needed and then some. The papers he currently had spread across the desk were requests for resources from The Underground. The Reconstruction Committee had done its best to ensure even distributions to everyone, but there were still some communities that suffered from their decades’ worth of being denied resources.
He read through them carefully, but he knew deep down he was going to give them what they asked for. They rarely asked for anything that offset budgets too drastically, and Shion knew they really needed the help. He signed off on excess expenses before moving on to the next set of papers. Information about restoration efforts for the Mao Forest.
And suddenly Nezumi plagued his thoughts again. The boy had never talked much about his past, but Shion knew he was a singer and that he’d had to flee his home when he was just a child during the Mao Massacre. Shion’s heart ached when he learned about the massacre, and what it had done to the one he loved. His heart still aches now; the endless greed of mankind had brought destruction not only to the Forest Folk, but to everyone in No. 6 and the outlying communities. In a way, this was one of Shion’s efforts to repay Nezumi for everything he’d done for him. The Mao Forest would never be the same as it was before the events of that horrid massacre, but Shion would still do whatever he could to bring it back to life.
Maybe, just maybe, the promise of a home could bring Nezumi back to him.
Nezumi wrote to Shion often. Several times a week Shion would hear the familiar sound of Nezumi’s messengers squeaking to announce their arrival, always ecstatic to see him. He always made sure to give them some food and drink, and lots of affection as he read Nezumi’s messages. Nezumi had even scolded Shion for “spoiling them” and that he was turning his messengers into big softies. “Hah!” Shion had truly laughed aloud at that, continuing to pet the small rat next to him in defiance as he read the rest of the note.
It had been almost two weeks since Nezumi’s last letter. Shion tried not to let it bother him, as it wasn’t the first time in the past 5 years that Nezumi had been out and about on a mission that left him with little time for correspondence. But he couldn’t ignore the dread in his gut that always came with the lack of letters. Anxiety gnawed at the back of his mind, unsure of Nezumi’s whereabouts, how he was doing, if he was keeping himself safe . It wasn’t as though that information was ever given to him in Nezumi’s letters, of course… but at least with a constant flow of messages, Shion at least knew that he was alive . From there he could assume that he must be doing alright.
Shion groaned as he returned to his work, wanting to get through a few more requests before calling it a day. He failed almost immediately, his mind flooding with thoughts of Nezumi as he leaned back in his chair, his pen slipping from his hand and clattering down onto his desk. He dragged a hand over his face, muttering a quiet prayer to Safu to grant him some of her strength.
Then he heard it.
Softly at first, but once he’d recognized it it was all he could hear. That voice… That same voice he’d heard for the first time all those years ago, singing so softly, so sweetly that he could barely hear it.
He was…?
Shion whipped around to look out his open window. “Nezumi?”
He bolted from his chair, dashing across the room to the window of his office. He nearly threw himself out in his enthusiasm, grabbing tightly onto the sill and looking down, searching desperately for the source of the voice.
“Nezumi?!” he called out, head whipping around frantically. Then, suddenly, there was a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Before he could turn to see what it was, he was tackled to the floor, and there he was above him in all of his glory: Nezumi.
The man who’d brought him to life all those years ago.
“Nezumi!” Shion cried out, tears already welling in his eyes as he reached up to pull the other man into a crushing embrace.
“Jeez, Shion,” Nezumi groaned, simply returning the embrace despite feeling as though he was about to be crushed to death. “Have you been working out or something? Your grip’s even tighter than it used to be.”
“I’m not letting you go again,” Shion said matter-of-factly, ignoring Nezumi’s comment entirely. “I’m keeping you to myself now.”
Nezumi only laughed, and Shion loosened his grip enough for Nezumi to sit up. But he kept a steady grip on Nezumi’s hand, looking up at him, his red eyes sparkling with so much adoration and excitement. Nezumi understood that he wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon, so he resolved to get comfortable where he currently sat… practically straddling Shion on the floor of the man’s office.
Nezumi gave a small cough, turning to hide the flush to his cheeks; he feigned interest in the room to avoid making eye contact.
“You know, Shion, most proper professional men shouldn’t be making time to have other men straddle them in their offices,” Nezumi said finally, chancing a glance at the white-haired man below him. He only smirked, and Nezumi’s heart fluttered.
“Oh they could make an exception for you. You’re so pretty,” Shion offered matter-of-factly, bringing up the hand not occupied by holding Nezumi’s own to gently push the strands of hair out of his face.
Nezumi scoffed, having had enough of Shion’s… teasing? Whatever this was. He swatted Shion’s hand away and pulled his own hand from Shion’s grip, rolling off of him in one swift motion. He sat on his knees, glaring at the other man as he laid there, laughing at him.
Nezumi frowned. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, standing up and reaching out a hand to the still-chuckling Shion. “Get up, Funny Man.”
Shion grabbed his hand, hoisting himself up. He turned to look at Nezumi, who blanched as he looked up at him.
Up.
… Up ?!
Sure, Shion wasn’t that much taller… maybe an inch or so. But Nezumi was supposed to be the tall one!
“Well, look who’s taller than who now,” Shion teased. “I guess planting down my roots somewhere was good for something, huh, wanderer?”
“Whatever,” Nezumi grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. “You’ve barely got an inch on me. Plus, being smaller means its easier for me to move quickly without being discovered.”
“Oh? And what kind of trouble have you been getting yourself into, Nezumi?” Shion asked, his voice akin to a purr.
Nezumi hated the way his cheeks burnt under Shion’s scrutiny. He waved Shion’s question away dismissively. “When did you get so…?”
Shion raised a quizzical brow. “So?”
Nezumi flapped his hands in Shion’s general direction. “Just… so!”
Shion laughed again. Annoying, frustrating, endearing, adorable, God Nezumi had missed him so much. He moved suddenly, pulling the now taller man into a hug.
“I’ve missed you,” Nezumi offered honestly. He felt Shion tighten his embrace.
“I missed you too, Nezumi,” Shion whispered, burying his head in the crook of Nezumi’s shoulder. “Every day. Every minute. Every second , all I could think of was you.”
They stood like that for a few more moments, savoring the other’s company. When they finally pulled away, Nezumi shoved his hands into his pockets, swaying back and forth. “Sorry to drop in so unexpectedly,” Nezumi offered sheepishly. “I meant to write you ahead of time, but someone has spoiled my messengers rotten, and they don’t much like to work anymore.”
“Don’t blame your cute little workers for your own forgetfulness!” Shion scolded. “They work just fine when I have messages to send to you.”
Nezumi stuck his tongue out at him. Shion laughed. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to say.
Well, he knew what he wanted to say. He didn’t know how to say it.
He was scared to say it.
Nezumi raised a brow at him as he turned away slightly, working a hand through his messy white hair. His eyes flitted back and forth quickly, and he muttered silently to himself.
Still have that nervous little boy hiding under all that bravado, huh? Nezumi thought to himself.
“I can hear you thinking, Shion. What is it?”
How long are you staying? Will you let me convince you to stay? Please don’t leave me again, I don’t think my heart could take it…
“Let me take you to dinner?” Shion settled on, turning back to him and offering an awkward smile.
Nezumi raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t what Shion wanted to ask him at all, but he decided he’d let it slide. He was pretty hungry after his journey here, anyway.
“Sure thing, Funny Man.”
Shion’s nose wrinkled at the new nickname, and Nezumi could only laugh.