Arcadia Chapter 3.1

At midnight, when the dark night had settled, a commotion, the first in several years, noisily upended the living room that had been steeped in silence.

“Crazy bastard. A truly insane son of a bitch….”

The face he saw reflected in the table mirror was a total mess. His left eyelid was swollen, his cheekbone and temple were bruised a deep blue, and the cut corner of his mouth looked like it would scab over in a few days. There were handprints on his neck, and it was obvious what the rest of his body, hidden under his clothes, looked like without even needing to check.

Van swept the inside of his mouth with his tongue to make sure his teeth weren’t loose, then threw the mirror onto the table.

“This is an asset. How could you pick only the face to beat up?”

“I see you sell your face, too. I didn’t know that.”

He was nitpicking, but Wayne’s face wasn’t in much better shape. Van glared at Wayne, who was rolling up a tissue to stop his nosebleed, then fiddled with the bridge of his own nose to check if it was broken. As Van felt the tip of his nose, Dia, who had placed a hand on his thigh, leaned in close.

“Does it hurt?”

“I feel like I’m going to die.”

Dia, so close that Van could feel his breath, gently rubbed the swollen cheekbone with his fingers. The warmth of his hand was cooler than the throbbing wound, and when Van closed his eyes, a moist sensation pressed down on his swollen eyelid. He opened only his right eye, and Dia’s dense eyelashes came into blurry view. Dia, after kissing Van’s eyelid and pulling away, brushed his lips against the cheekbone, the cheek, and the split lip as well.

“You think this is going to make it not hurt?”

Van tried to suppress a smile, but his cheeks were already too prominent to hide. In truth, every time Dia’s lips brushed against him, the stinging made him flinch, but he didn’t push him away because he found the action so lovely and cute.

“Does it still hurt?”

Dia gently rubbed the handprints on his neck with his small hand and looked up. Van narrowed his eyes to hide his smile.

“It still hurts… Ah!”

“Cut it out.”

A large hand smacked him on the back of the head. As soon as his head jerked forward, Dia quickly cradled it, but that didn’t make the dizziness go away.

“Ugh….”

“Van, are you okay?”

Dia cupped his cheeks and gently lifted his head, pressing their foreheads together. Van, frowning, groaned for a long while, unable to get his bearings. His face, covered in scabs, was more than enough to upset Dia. Dia stared intently at Van, who couldn’t open his eyes, then turned his head.

Meeting Dia’s gaze for the first time since coming above ground, Wayne raised his eyebrows high before quickly pulling back. He snatched something flying toward his own face and forcefully pushed the child’s hand away. The moment he saw it reflect in the light, he let out a gasp.

“…Ha.”

Clutched firmly in the small hand was a Swiss Army knife. He snatched the sharp blade that would have been lodged in his eyeball if he had been even a little bit slower and threw it to the floor. The child looked down with an innocent expression. Witnessing Dia’s remarkable pretense as he stroked Van’s cheek as if he had done nothing at all, Wayne clicked his tongue and stood up from the sofa.

“I’m leaving. I’ll be watching, so don’t do anything stupid.”

Van, who had been constantly complaining of pain, heard Wayne’s farewell—which he had longed for, but could not understand the reason for—and raised his head. Wayne, looking like he was really leaving, brushed off his coat and headed for the door.

“You’re leaving?”

“So you want me to live here?”

No. That would be unacceptable. If I had to live with that bastard, I’d die from a rage-induced stroke. After glaring at a repulsed Van, Wayne rummaged through the paper bag he had left on top of the shoe cabinet.

What came out in his hand was a bottle of wine. He placed the wine on the living room table and then, with a face that was not at all handsome from being beaten up, gave a slight smile.

“I moved in next door. This is a housewarming gift.”

“…Next door?”

“The red brick house. Come visit sometime. Leave that one.”

Wayne, pointing precisely at Dia, turned to leave as if he had accomplished his goal. Van, staring blankly at the back of the man who was leaving as abruptly as he had arrived, let out a hollow laugh. What the hell is with that guy? First, he shows up without a word, and now he says he’s moved in next door.

He liked this unpredictable job less and less. Wayne, who had gone outside, suddenly threw the door open again, stuck only his head in, and shouted.

“For your information, you’re both forbidden from going out. I’ll allow you to move around inside the house.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do….”

Before he could finish, the door was slammed shut with brutal force. Seething with unresolved anger, Van swallowed his resentment with the sole resolution not to show such a disgraceful side to Dia, who was looking at him with an anxious expression. Then he made an announcement.

“We’re going to live upstairs now. Get some sunlight, live brightly. Sounds good, right?”

“We’re not going back down?”

“We’re not going back down.”

Van, shaking his head decisively, found the remote and covered the entrance to the basement. There was a mountain of things to organize, but if he didn’t lie down and rest right away, he’d surely end up bedridden. Taking the hand of Dia, who was looking around the living room as if it were awkward, Van hurried toward the second floor, a place they hadn’t gone together since Christmas.

“Your room is here.”

He gave Dia the room that Michel had used, who was observing his surroundings the entire time. When he opened the firmly shut door and went inside, only a large bed remained, starkly revealing the disposition of its former owner. Since his son and daughter-in-law had passed away, the number of days Michel had visited this place could be counted on one hand, so it was as good as a new room.

Van had the child sit on the bed and headed to the bathroom attached to Michel’s room. He took off his sweater, which was covered in dust from rolling around on the floor, and turned to look at himself. As expected, his skin was a complete mess. As Van touched his side, where a large bruise would remain for some time, he looked down at Dia, who had approached him at some point while he was taking off his pants. He gently tapped the cheek of the child, who was staring at his bruised side with worried eyes, and asked.

“You want to wash up, too?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get your clothes off. Hands up.”

He pulled Dia’s sweater off in one go as he stretched both arms straight up and smoothed down his ruffled hair. He’d had a hard time washing him in that small basement bathroom every time, so it seemed like a good opportunity to teach him how to wash himself.

Softly spoken gossip was exchanged inside the steamy bathroom. To say it was exchanged would be an overstatement; it was, in fact, Van’s one-sided complaining. Van, positioned behind Dia who was sitting with his legs stretched out, squeezed sweet-smelling shampoo onto his palm and began a not-so-sweet lament.

“I’m really not even close with him, and it was just a mistake. Isn’t he being way too petty over a few mistakes? Think about it. When a person lives their life, things can happen this way or that way. Isn’t that right?”

While Van gently shampooed his water-soaked hair, Dia nodded, silently agreeing. Van, frowning in thought for a moment, let out a sharp intake of breath.

“But then again, I get it. I’m kind of, you know, regardless of whether they’re a man or a woman, like this, and also… you know?”

“What do you mean, ‘like this, and also’?”

“It’s just a thing.”

Van, who had smoothly segued into boasting about himself, chuckled alone before grabbing the child’s waist and pulling him up. Van measured Dia’s height, which had grown yet again, with his palm, then picked up the showerhead and gently rinsed out the bubbles. The sight of water droplets clinging to his eyelashes and falling one by one was clearly visible under the languid light.

Van, who had instructed the child to lather his own body with soap, let his gaze fall to the necklace swaying near the child’s chest. Holding the small locket in his hand, Van looked directly into Dia’s eyes, who was fiddling with the soap, and whispered.

“You can’t let Wayne find out about this.”

“Why?”

Van couldn’t give a clear answer and just rubbed the cold piece of metal with his thumb. Since it was always hidden under his sweater, Wayne probably hadn’t discovered it yet. It might come in handy if the situation called for it. Instead of the child’s flushed pink cheeks, Van kissed the necklace and replied lightly.

“You’re not supposed to show precious things to others. I gave it to you, so of course it’s precious, right?”

He patted the head of the child, who was now smiling and nodding, and turned on the shower. Van pushed Dia’s curly hair, which was lovely even when he looked like a drowned rat, behind his ears and buried the uneasy feeling.

The child, who had even learned how to dry himself meticulously, just wouldn’t think of sleeping alone. It would be more accurate to say that he couldn’t accept it. Van laid the fidgeting child in bed, tucked the covers in securely, and waved goodbye.

The reason they had slept together until now was because of the unique circumstance of the basement; normally, it was common practice to sleep separately from birth. He had, Jack probably had, and so did every child growing up in this country. Van, whose battered limbs ached so much that he had no energy to soothe Dia, left Michel’s room after telling him to practice sleeping alone.

Stepping out into the dark hallway, Van looked around at the surroundings, which felt quite unfamiliar.

Michel’s room, the room his parents had stayed in, and his own smallest room at the end of the hall. Warmth began to blossom in the house that had been without its owners for longer than it had been with them. Van suddenly recalled the distant past and looked back at Michel’s room. The days when the cold-hearted Michel used to smile more often, his clumsy self who didn’t know how to walk quietly, and the noisy hallway. The days when he didn’t know loneliness.

‘Are you lonely?’

The child’s sweet voice echoed in his head. At this rate, wasn’t he in no position to refute such a ridiculous claim? Twisting one corner of his mouth to hide his weak heart, Van headed to his small room. It was a night when the small bed, which felt full just by lying down straight, seemed uncomfortable.

Dawn’s light poured in through the window where the curtains had been drawn. The bed felt uncomfortable for some reason. Van, frowning as he turned onto his side, sensed a pool of warmth nearby. In a strange state of being neither awake nor asleep, he tossed and turned, reaching out his arm to find the warmth. Haa. He let out a sigh and burrowed into the embrace.

He could guess that Dia had crawled into his bed without even having to be fully awake. Van stroked the child’s back and tried to fall back asleep. The child’s broad back… wait, broad back?

His eyes flew open. If it hadn’t been for the fact that one of his eyelids was so swollen that even opening it halfway was an ordeal, his eyeballs would have popped out. Van shot up and looked down at the child who had somehow squeezed into the bed, which was cramped for even one person, and was now asleep.

Asleep with his pristine blond hair, untouched by the bluish dawn, scattered on the pillow, it was indeed Dia. Only, he wasn’t a child. He was a boy.

Van clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming and carefully gave the child’s shoulder a slight push. After stirring slightly, Dia lay flat on his back and slowly opened his closed eyes. His eyelashes, as light-colored as his hair, fluttered, and then his eyes, shaded with the green of a lush forest, were fully revealed. Dia, now awake, greeted Van, who was pressed against the wall looking down at him.

“Did you sleep well?”

Van, despite being in a situation where he just had to choose between “well” or “not well,” could only stare stupidly at the boy.

He had grown at an unbelievable speed over the past two months, and because of that, he had come to believe it even if it was unbelievable, but to grow to the extent that it seemed like a different kid had been swapped in while he was briefly asleep was going too far. Dia’s growth had far surpassed the limits of common sense that Van could handle. Dropping his hand from his mouth, Van tried his best to appear composed.

“Hey, you…. You, uh. You’ve grown too…. What is this. What the…!”

It was no use, however. Van shot out of bed as if he had stepped into hot water, standing on his heels, and stared blankly at Dia, who was slowly sitting up.

Dia lowered his legs over the side of the bed, and his feet easily touched the floor. He tapped his feet once, then pulled at the sleeves of the sweater Van had put on him. It still covered half of his palms, but it was much more comfortable than yesterday when he had to roll up the sleeves for his hands to peek out.

After checking his rapidly grown body, Dia finally stood up from the bed and faced the dumbfounded Van. The golden eyes that he had to crane his neck to meet just yesterday were now positioned much closer. Two handspans. If he grew just two more handspans, he would be able to look Van straight in the eye.

Dia, who had become a boy of about thirteen in a single day, took Van’s hand, which was hanging limply at his side, frozen.

When they placed their palms together and straightened their fingers, there wasn’t much of a difference, despite Dia being two handspans shorter. Dia grinned, and Van was aghast.

As Van, whose legs had given out from shock, sat on the edge of the bed, Dia immediately sat down on the floor and reached out. The boy pressed his palm against Van’s again and chattered away nonstop, as if a dam had burst.

“I got so big! I think I’ll grow up in no time. Right?”

“No…. Don’t grow up….”

“I guess your hands are on the small side, Van. Look at this. I’m a lot shorter, but our hands are almost the same size.”

“No, I’m….”

“It would be so weird if you became shorter than me, Van. Then I could carry you around too, right? I want to get bigger faster.”

“What are you talking about….”

Van, replying dazedly to the uncharacteristically talkative boy, hung his head low, feeling like he was about to cry. While he ran his hands roughly through his messy hair, Dia continued to reel off his impressions of his rapid growth. His excited voice pounded against Van’s eardrums, but he was in no state of mind to play along.