Arcadia Chapter 4.1

Wayne visited every time with a pile of books. It seemed like Dia had gone through a truckload of them, so it was a wonder that there were still more books to read, and it was also a wonder where he was getting them from. Van, leaning against the entryway, stared at Wayne with annoyed eyes and was about to take the books and close the door. If only Wayne hadn’t wedged his foot in the gap of the door.

“What is it this time, coming here at this hour.”

The reason Van was so irritable was because of the time of the visit and Wayne’s attitude. He could let it slide that Wayne knocked on the door after midnight, but it was hard to forgive him for showing up right when Van was finally about to get some sleep, after taking Dia, who was crawling into his bed, to Michel’s room and putting him to bed with great effort.

Moreover, the man had yet to answer his questions clearly. No matter how much Van tried to sound him out about the anonymous client, he slipped away like an eel. He only repeated that his intentions were the same as Van’s, and since he seemed suspicious but not dangerous, Van had more or less given up. To Van, who asked with an intensity that suggested he would slam the door shut regardless of whether Wayne’s foot got crushed if it was for another useless purpose, Wayne held out what was in his other hand.

“Want a drink?”

Van’s gaze dropped. As soon as he spotted a bundle of canned beer, chilled so cold that water droplets had formed on the surface, he threw the door wide open.

“You should have said so sooner.”

Glancing sideways at Van, who had shed his gruff attitude and was now as breezy as a spring wind, Wayne stepped into the house. Van glared at the back of the man, who didn’t seem like he would give him a single drop if he just told him to leave the beer and go, then closed the door. It would be fine as long as he drank in moderation.

The two men settled in the living room and started drinking. Though to call it a drinking party was an overstatement—it was merely opening cans of beer with a single bag of salty crackers—Van was satisfied beyond measure. As the cold beer went down his throat, the sharp carbonation tickled his chest. The alcohol he couldn’t even touch while raising the child couldn’t have been sweeter.

“How is that one doing?”

“Dia? He’s grown a lot. Look over there.”

Van gestured with his chin toward the wall while sipping his beer. After checking Dia’s height marked on the wallpaper, Wayne let out an indifferent comment, “That was fast.”

“I saw him earlier, and it’s not just his height that’s grown. His shoulders have gotten broader and his hands are bigger too. Oh, but isn’t he just so pretty? Have you ever seen someone that pretty? I haven’t. If he weren’t an alien, he’d have the face to make a fortune. Take a good look at him tomorrow.”

Once Dia became the topic, Van chattered on, bringing up even the most trivial things. He praised him to no end, saying how pretty, gentle, and smart Dia was, and that even though he sometimes acted like a baby, he was lovely, charming, and clever anyway. Wayne, who had been quietly drinking beer next to a grinning Van who was seeking agreement due to the alcohol, turned his head and let out a scoff. He was being a complete fool for his child.

“You’re going to end up keeping him by your side like that, you know?”

“Well, of course.”

Van, who had nodded his head without thinking, caught himself with a start and picked up a cracker for no reason.

“…I can’t keep him by my side.”

“If you know that, don’t get too attached.”

“What am I supposed to do about getting attached?”

He grumbled playfully, but he grew bitter whenever situations like this arose, reminding him of the end. About five or six months left now, maybe. Time was so cruel. He tossed back the last sip of beer and opened a new can.

Six crumpled cans were rolling around on the table, and three cans were left. Thinking he had drunk a lot in that short time, Van blinked his tipsy eyes, unable to resist the temptation of alcohol, and downed more beer.

“And not attached to me?”

Van, wincing as he swallowed the highly carbonated beer, looked to his side. A dark man came into his hazy vision. With his lips on the mouth of the can, Van slowly scanned the man from top to bottom. The only thing about Wayne that matched his tastes was that he was older, and now he was meeting Van’s gaze steadily with his dark brown eyes.

Van laughed like air escaping a balloon. Well, compared to when Wayne had suddenly shown up waving an old-fashioned cell phone, his wariness had faded a lot. It still pissed him off to remember how Wayne had dragged little Dia around like an object, but after that, Wayne and Dia never clashed. They didn’t seem to interact in any special way, but they didn’t seem to be on particularly bad terms either, so there was no excuse to find fault.

That’s about it, you could say. He was less bothersome than expected.

“Sorry. I don’t get attached easily.”

As soon as he answered with a grin, his collar was grabbed. His upper body lurched forward. Pulled along helplessly, Van recognized Wayne’s eyes coming right up to his face and, in that moment, felt his lips being covered.

Something soft and squishy invaded his parted lips. Wayne, pressing their lips together so hard their noses were crushed, tilted his head, staring intently into Van’s eyes. The flesh, chilled by the beer, swept through his mouth and tangled with Van’s tongue. As soon as Van fumbled to put his beer can down on the table, the hand gripping his collar moved to the nape of his neck. Wayne wrapped his hand firmly around the neck of Van, who was pushing at his chest, and pulled Van’s thigh towards him.

“…Ngh!”

A light struggle ensued with their lips still locked. Wayne, who finally succeeded in pulling Van’s leg and laying him down on the sofa, wrapped his tongue around Van’s retreating one, deepening the union. Van’s nose was pressed against Wayne’s cheek, making the man’s scent feel stronger. Pushing away at Wayne, who was kissing him as if to devour him while slowly turning his head, Van, with his eyes more or less open, frowned.

“Hah…”

As a slight gap formed, Van exhaled, then cupped Wayne’s cheeks with both hands as Wayne tried to immediately press his lips back on, and tilted his head first. When his alcohol-soaked tongue swept over Wayne’s teeth and gums, even touching the roof of his mouth, the hand gripping the nape of his neck went slack. Wayne’s knee pushed between his legs, and the old sofa creaked.

Creak.

Letting the hand that was sliding up his thigh and into his sweater be, Van focused solely on the kiss. Around the time Wayne’s rough tongue began to follow his gentle movements, Van sucked on his lower lip and pulled away. Their lips, parting with a wet sound, glistened with saliva.

Van patted the cheek of Wayne, whose gaze had hazed over, and whispered.

“What have you been doing all these years? Your skills are seriously lacking.”

“…Hey.”

“What, you bastard.”

When he taunted with the corners of his mouth pulled up, Wayne burst into a hollow laugh. Get your hands off. Van, who had warned him and was trying to push him off and get up, was thrown back onto the sofa before he could even prop himself up on his elbows. Wayne climbed on top of him, kissing the tip of his chin, and pushed the hand he was told to move even further in.

“We even drank. It’d be a shame to end it here.”

“You’re right. You don’t have any confidence without alcohol.”

“We’ll find that out when we try. You probably haven’t even been able to touch yourself, busy raising a kid.”

“I took care of that just fine on my own. If you’re that bored, go find some other guy.”

“There aren’t really any decent people around here.”

Their lips met in between the verbal sparring. Van didn’t bother to push Wayne away. Although he had mocked his skills, Wayne was not a bad kisser. He didn’t dislike the warmth and skin of another person that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and if he closed his eyes, he could pretend the person pressing down on him wasn’t Wayne, so he was briefly contemplating whether to just let it go for one day.

The wooden building, which hadn’t been repaired, made a faint creaking sound whenever someone walked down the hallway. And right now, that sound could be heard. The footsteps reaching the landing preceded his alcohol-muddled reason awakening by a split second. As Van, entangled with Wayne and sucking on his lips, slowly opened his eyes, the owner of the footsteps stepped onto the stairs.

Van blinked, wondering what that was, and was horrified for the first time. He immediately shoved Wayne away and sat up. As the sweater that had ridden up over his chest slowly fell, covering his skin, he was flustered for the second time. Finally, staring at the boy shrouded in shadow, he stammered.

“Uh, why aren’t you sleeping…”

“…What are you two doing?”

A voice came from the darkness. As the voice, somehow more subdued than usual, entered his ears, the effects of the alcohol vanished without a trace. Is this how parents feel when their child catches them in an intimate moment?

Van bit down on his red, swollen lips and straightened his disheveled clothes and hair while punching Wayne’s thigh. Wayne wasn’t the type not to get the hint to get lost if he had any sense, yet all he did was slowly fasten his pants buckle, which he had unfastened at some unknown point.

The fact that Dia, upon seeing that sight, came striding down the stairs was something Van had not expected at all. That he would smack Wayne’s face with the book in his hand was even more unexpected.

“Ah…”

Dia’s gaze, after grabbing the neck of Wayne who groaned impassively, landed on his torn lip. The lip, with a red bead of blood on it, was slightly swollen like Van’s. Wayne just stared blankly at Dia’s face, whose gaze was fixed on his lips. His eyes, looking as if to say, “Go ahead and try me,” provoked the boy.

The doll-like, expressionless face of the boy cracked, and he raised the book, holding it so the corner was showing. As Dia changed his target from the lips to the eyes and swung the book, a hand that hastily intervened grabbed his wrist. The boy slowly turned his head, and his pupils reflected a more or less stunned Van.

“…Dia. What are you doing right now?”

Van, witnessing Dia’s violent side for the second time, moved his stiffly frozen lips. He should be scolding him or reasoning with him, or at least asking why he was doing this, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Your skills at raising a kid are seriously lacking.”

Wayne, licking his blood-smeared lip, returned the insult. Only then did Van, who had regained his senses enough to acknowledge the intruder, snatch the culprit’s collar.

“Get up, quickly.”

When he whispered, suppressing his anger, Wayne smiled sarcastically. Van dragged the man he had been kissing and groping just moments ago with the past forgotten, and threw him out the front door. Wayne, who caught the tossed-out coat just in the nick of time, frowned.

“You’re kicking me out? Not him?”

Of course he’d kick out Wayne, who had a home, not Dia, who had nowhere to go. He felt pathetic for having given in to the alcohol, even for a moment, and fooling around with a guy like that again. Twisting his lips, Van was closing the front door but stopped and stuck only his head out. He showed a shameless face to the man who gave him a look as he was about to turn and leave.

“Sorry. I messed up again.”

“…Clark.”

Closing the door before Wayne could get any clingier, Van forced his uncooperative feet to move toward the living room where a huge mountain he had to climb was waiting.

Dia stood as if rooted in front of the sofa where he and Wayne had been fooling around. The boy’s back, as he stared at the cushion while clutching the book he had used as a weapon, looked harder and broader than it had that morning, perhaps due to the atmosphere. Wiping his face, which had become haggard in an instant, Van called out to the boy without having properly sorted out his thoughts.

“Dia.”

Dia, who had been lost in thought, slowly lifted his head and looked to the side. His hair, which Van had cut to a suitable length, had already grown to shoulder-length. Staring at the naturally wavy, curling hair, Van gestured toward the book with his eyes.

“Put it down.”

“…Why?”

The backtalk, which had only ever sounded cute, grated on his nerves. He could say that breaking the rabbit’s legs was something done out of ignorance, but this time it was different. Although he had shown Dia a fistfight with Wayne, he didn’t want him to learn a habit of letting his hands fly. Especially when he didn’t know how Dia would turn out.

Like a strict teacher, Van pointed at the table. The pile of crumpled beer cans on the table was embarrassing, but since he had already pointed, there was nothing to be done.

“Are you not going to put it down?”

Dia blinked his eyes, fringed with golden lashes, slowly, as if he couldn’t understand Van’s cold attitude. Only after being prompted one more time did the boy drop the book. Onto the carpeted floor.

“…Wow. Throwing a tantrum now, are we.”

A hollow laugh escaped him. The first sign of defiance from a child who had whined but never thrown a tantrum since birth felt foreign. Van crossed his arms as if to say, “Go on, try me.” His intention to give a few words of advice and gently soothe him vanished, and he resolved to give him a real scolding.

“…What were you two going to do?”

Dia, with his head bowed low, muttered vacantly. The question sounded strange at first, and Van, forgetting the lecture he had intended to give, retorted wryly.

“Do what?”

“What were you going to do after putting me to sleep?”

Come to think of it, it wasn’t a completely strange question, but the problem was Dia’s attitude. His demeanor, as if he had just witnessed a lover’s affair, was absurd. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Van scowled and, unintentionally, gave a sharp response.

“Whatever I was doing, what does that have to do with you?”

Only after blurting out the thought that came to his mind without a filter did he realize his mistake. It was an overly aggressive tone to use with a child. Especially to Dia, who wanted Van to scrape together all the affection he had, and even affection he didn’t have, and offer it to him. Van bit down hard on the lips that had spouted nonsense and cautiously observed him. His premonition was correct.

Dia, who had lifted his head at some point, had his eyes wide open. In his shocked pupils, resentment, betrayal, and sorrow swirled. His eyes were asking why it had nothing to do with him.

Van was at a loss. To have made a slip of the tongue at a moment when he should be giving a stern scolding. Just as he was falling into a helpless quandary over how to fix this situation, Dia, who had been frozen like a statue, stepped over the dropped book and approached. Van instinctively fixed his legs in place when they were about to step back.

Finally, standing an arm’s length away, the boy raised a pale white hand and grabbed Van’s wrist. His loosely crossed arms came undone like an unlatched gate. Van glanced down at the hands gripping both his wrists, then glanced at the boy’s furrowed brow. Dia came closer, and as if choosing his words, moved his reddish lips slowly before whispering quietly.

“…Do it with me.”