Arcadia Chapter 4.3

Van pushed the boy, who had become quite heavy to just lift and toss, into the covers and burrowed in beside him. Dia, who had been anxiously watching, thinking Van was leaving him behind, hastily wrapped his arms around Van’s upper body. Held by the boy, Van was momentarily surprised by the unexpectedly cozy and broad embrace, then quietly entrusted his body to it. A hug is fine, after all.

“Let’s just sleep together for today. To celebrate making up.”

Wriggling, he managed to pull out one arm and turned off the lamp. Even the faint light vanished, and the quiet night enveloped his entire body. Trapped in the dark, warm embrace, his thoughts multiplied.

He thought he had seen a similar case when he was flipping through the <Parenting Encyclopedia> half-heartedly. What was it called? Oedipus complex? He couldn’t remember if it was an obsession with the father or the mother, but he wasn’t Dia’s father, although from Dia’s perspective, it was understandable to think of him as a father… Anyway, it was complicated.

Van, who wasn’t the type to have lived his life racking his brain, decided to push the complex problem far away. But Dia didn’t readily help with that. A careful but not timid voice reached him from near his forehead.

“Van.”

“What.”

“I love you.”

Damn romance. Van let out a deep sigh and patted Dia’s back perfunctorily.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He’d been singing the song of love for a while now, and Van wondered if he even knew what love was. As he stroked Dia’s back, telling him to hurry up and sleep, Dia hugged his waist tightly and rubbed his lips against his forehead.

“I can do anything Van asks me to.”

In the pitch-black darkness, the boy’s voice had an unfamiliar quality to it. His mellow voice, which had deepened at some point just as his embrace had broadened, clung softly to Van’s eardrums. Van tried to dispel the strange atmosphere created by the words, which might have made his heart flutter if he’d heard them from someone else. In times like these, it was best to pass it off as a joke. He chuckled and bantered.

“Grow up fast. I have high expectations.”

Worried he might stubbornly insist, “But I’m all grown up,” he quickly pulled the boy’s head into his embrace. Dia, who had been tossing and turning as if he had something to say, soon relaxed comfortably.

In the end, Van, who couldn’t even scold him, didn’t get an apology, and only taught him how to gloss things over, closed his eyes, heavy with exhaustion. He forced himself to sleep, feeling as if he were holding not Dia, but a boy he didn’t know.

20xx. 3. 15. Now he measures his height as soon as he wakes up in the morning. It’s quite funny to watch. It’s not like growing taller is all there is to growing up. I wish he’d get into the habit of sleeping alone.

20xx. 3. 27. We played catch today. That bastard said he can’t even go out into the garden, so we did it inside. Honestly, isn’t the garden fine? That bastard should compensate for all the household items we broke. Anyway, Dia seems to have pretty good athletic skills too. He’s so strong he broke a window… I want to try arm wrestling him, but I’m afraid I’ll lose, so I can’t ask. An adult’s authority is important, after all.

20xx. 4. 3. These days, my day starts with Dia and ends with Dia. It’s been like that for a few months, though. I can’t really remember what life was like before raising Dia. Is it because I’m getting older? Surely this can’t be the joy of raising a child. Scary…

20xx. 4. 18. I taught him martial arts. Should I not be teaching him this kind of thing?

When you get particularly used to something, there are times you fail to notice changes. Things like the worn corners of a picture frame or the wrinkles that form around your eyes when you smile. Changes that progress secretly hide within the familiar, only to suddenly catch your eye and stir your heart. Just like now.

Van, who woke up to the sound of chirping birds, froze mid-stretch. As he took in the sight of Dia sleeping on the pillow as always, the first thought that came to mind was, ‘Who is this bastard?’ The next thought was this.

Let’s pretend I don’t know.

Desperately ignoring the boy’s appearance, Van stealthily lowered his feet to the floor. He carefully set down the thick blanket, holding it with his thumb and index finger, and backed out of the bedroom. Then, without even the time to muffle his footsteps, he clattered down the stairs.

Clatter, clatter.

Slumping onto the sofa, Van hugged a cushion to hide his troubled heart. Had it been about an hour that he’d been waiting blankly? He heard the click of a door opening. Soon, a shadow flickered on the second-floor railing, and the old stairs let out a creaking noise. Van bit his lower lip and stared in a daze at Dia coming down the stairs.

Creak, creak.

Dia, who had washed up alone as soon as he woke up, just as he had been firmly taught over the past few months, hadn’t dried his wet hair. There was no trace of the past when the boy used to struggle to climb a single step, now that he was leisurely striding, dripping water from the ends of his hair that was swept back along its grain.

The boy, who approached without even opening his eyes properly as if he wasn’t fully awake, cupped Van’s chin with one hand and kissed his forehead. It was the same morning greeting as always.

“You should have woken me up. I don’t like waking up alone.”

“…You were sleeping so soundly.”

Van replied calmly while scrutinizing Dia’s appearance from Van replied calmly while scrutinizing Dia’s appearance from head to toe. The t-shirt that had surely been loose now clung snugly to his upper body, revealing the lines of his frame. However, he couldn’t remember exactly when this t-shirt had become a perfect fit. While he was deep in thought, Dia sat down on the floor below the sofa, shaking his hair.

“Dry it for me.”

He unconsciously took the white towel Dia passed over his shoulder. The childish habit of wanting his hair, and only his hair, to be dried for him even if he washed up by himself, remained. Van, following the ingrained habit, fell into a state of confusion as he dried the boy’s wet hair.

The shoulders he looked down on were broad. The legs stretched out comfortably on the carpet were long, and the feet planted on the floor below them, unlike his delicate appearance, were large. They might even be bigger than his own feet. Van swallowed the dry saliva that was pooling on his tongue.

When on earth did he get this big? Just how complacent had he been that the boy’s growth, which had happened day by day without a sound, was only now catching his eye? With a complex and subtle expression, Van let Dia’s hair, now closer to that of a ‘sturdy man,’ slip through the gaps between his fingers.

“Done. Go put this away.”

He handed him the wet towel. “Okay.” Not forgetting to answer, Dia got up and turned to walk to the laundry room. Van watched the boy move away slowly, then carefully stood up. He tiptoed after him and, standing on his heels, reached his hand out in a straight line over his own head. He stretched his hand out as if to touch the back of Dia’s head, then flinched in surprise.

Dia, who had turned around unexpectedly, looked at Van, who was squatting behind him, as if he were strange.

“Van?”

“…Uh, what.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Haha,” Van laughed, pushing away Dia who was reaching out a hand to help him up.

“My legs just hurt. Go on, go.”

As he smiled and put strength into his arms, Dia, pushed back a step, tilted his head. Fortunately, he walked away without being stubborn, and Van, who had been intently watching his retreating back, finally let out a silent scream with his mouth wide open when Dia was out of sight.

There’s… there’s no difference. Dia was a tiny bit, a fingernail’s worth, shorter, but they were practically the same height.

Staggering to his feet, Van stumbled towards the kitchen. As he said, Van was much taller than the average male. He had met countless people taller than him while working in a physical industry, but most people were shorter than him. His next-door neighbor Wayne was also taller than him, but in any case, Van looked down on many people.

But now the child he had personally dressed, washed, fed, and put to sleep had caught up to his height in no time. And it was a boy who sometimes said forward things and tried to treat him as an equal in a strange way. Engulfed in shock, Van opened the refrigerator and prepared breakfast.

The breakfast menu was sandwiches. Since they were completed just by filling the toasted bread, Van could make them well enough even with his terrible cooking skills. With a still dazed face, Van grilled the meat and tore the vegetables. He placed the bread that popped out of the toaster on a plate and, while stuffing it full, the back of Dia’s head flickered in his mind. He couldn’t see the crown of his head. He couldn’t see the crown of his head.

Van once again realized that Dia came from outer space. He thought he knew the purpose of his visit to Earth, which even Michel hadn’t been able to find. It must have been to shatter the pride of earthlings and plunge them into despair. He had once prayed for him to grow up quickly, but that was by no means referring to his height…

“I want to do it too.”

Startled by the sudden voice, Van turned around. At the same time, his shoulders felt heavy. The tip of his nose brushed against a soft cheek, and the scent of lotion wafted over. Van hastily turned his head back to its original position and, while pressing down on a sandwich that was about to burst at the seams, he glanced sideways. When he saw large hands gripping the sink on either side, where there was little space to cook, he slowly began to recognize the position he was in.

Van was being hugged by Dia. He was being hugged by the boy who, until recently, had only been able to tuck his head under his armpit. The hand on the bread tensed, and the filling squirted out messily. Clenching his teeth, Van once again chose to feign ignorance.

“Let’s go wash our hands.”

“I washed them.”

“Then go sit down. It’s all done.”

“But there’s only one so far. This one burst.”

Every time Dia, with his chin resting on Van’s shoulder, spoke, his low but soft voice and breath kept brushing against his earlobe. Van, who had unconsciously stood on his tiptoes slightly, faltered and ended up stepping on Dia’s foot. Dia, thinking Van had lost his balance, supported him with his shoulder. The stumbling stopped, but his foot was still on top of Dia’s.

Van was going crazy from the discomfort and awkwardness. If he put his foot down on the floor, he was worried Dia would notice their matching height, and if he left it as it was, he looked ridiculous. In the midst of his suffocating frustration, the clueless Dia struck up a conversation.

“But Van.”

“Move away a little. You’re in the way.”

When he deliberately twisted his shoulders to show his annoyance, the hand that had been on the counter moved to his side. Both arms naturally wrapped around his waist and crossed near his lower abdomen. When told to move away, Dia instead clung to him without a single gap, his chest pressing against Van’s shoulder blades. Dumbfounded, Van was about to turn around but had to stop all movement. Because of the single phrase Dia uttered.

“Were you always this small?”

Van’s pride was shattered to pieces. You might ask if it’s really necessary to get gloomy over height, over a mere few centimeters, but to Van, it was important. To be precise, the opponent was the problem.

While taking a bite of the sandwich he had made in who knows what state of mind, he glanced across the table. Dia, who had spouted such outrageous words, ate his sandwich neatly, unlike Van who was spilling the contents everywhere. He didn’t even get sauce on his mouth or hands. He was literally so grown-up it was about to bring tears to his eyes.

Dia, who was of a similar build to him but finished his meal with just one sandwich, initiated some small talk. Befitting a literary boy who always had a book with him, the topics were mostly related to book content, so Van just had to give bland replies like, “Is that so?”

The limbic system this and that, the endocrine system this and that. He couldn’t understand a word and had no energy to chime in. Van, who had lost his smile and was on his third sandwich, alternated his gaze between Dia’s clean plate and his own messy one.

Feeling somehow embarrassed, he quickly popped the last piece of sandwich into his mouth and chewed. Just then, sauce that had escaped from between the sandwich slices drenched his fingers.

“…Ah.”

“Damn…” Frowning at the unpleasant sensation, Van was about to pull a tissue from the corner of the table. If his wrist hadn’t been grabbed and stopped, that is.

A tongue touched the palm of his hand where the sauce was dripping. His fingertips twitched.

While Van just blinked, the tongue, warmer than a normal person’s, licked a wide area of the part engraved with palm lines before digging into it with its pointed tip. The tongue, conveying a moist and hot sensation, licked the sauce from his palm and slid between his fingers.

Dia, parting his lips that looked like they would be soft to the touch, finally swallowed his index and middle fingers. As the beauty with pursed lips slowly sucked on the fingers, a slurping sound echoed through the old kitchen. Dia, who was licking the knuckles of the stiffly frozen fingers, looked up. His eyes, holding a blue forest, met Van’s between his fingers.

Slurp, slurp.

Only then did Van barely manage to reclaim his wits, which had gone astray. When he snatched his hand away, the boy blinked once and then let go cleanly.

“That’s why if you mess with the amygdala, even a cat will be scared of a mouse.”

And then he nonchalantly continued the story he was telling. It was a reaction that completely shut him up, making it impossible to even scold him. Van fell silent, looking down at his fingers where the sensation of the tongue wrapped around his knuckles still lingered. His tongue, which was usually as slick as an eel’s, had lost its function.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Huh? Uh…”

As he answered in a daze, Dia gave a slight smile and continued his talk about science, which Van had no interest in.

If the limbic system is in charge of emotions, and the amygdala is in charge of fear and excitement, then what was it that Dia had just messed with? Van wiped his wet fingers with a tissue and mouthed a curse.

Damn, damn, damn…

A week later. Van pounded on the door next door as if to break it down.

Wayne, who happened to be preparing lunch, opened the door wondering what the commotion was about, only to be confronted by an uninvited guest. Van barged in recklessly, regardless of whether Wayne welcomed him or not. Wayne, after glancing down at his old colleague who was sitting in a chair with a scowl on his face, closed the door and had no choice but to brew another cup of coffee.