Title:Childhood (Part 8)
Pairings:AibaxNino, ShoxAiba
Genre/Rating:Fluff, Family, Romance, AU / G
Word Count:1550
Disclaimer:I own nothing but the plot
Summary:Aiba shows Kazu around the house while Sakurai and his mom prepared dinner.

Aiba pretended to wince in pain for Sakurai when he heard the sounds of dishes clattering all over the counter-tops and the floor, followed by his mother's scolding shouts. He was half glad that he wasn't Sakurai at the moment taking another mother's scolding, but he was half guilty for not not even bothering to offer help. It must be a new way for his mother to meet new people, especially if the person was involved with their family somehow, Aiba speculated as he stole a glance from the side of the kitchen entrance.

His mother had one hand on her hip while the other was dangerously waving around her most treasured, green ceramic knife. Every time Aiba laid eyes on it, even when she didn't have it in her hands, he shuddered at the thought of his mother mincing him into tiny little pieces. It was a recurring nightmare that haunted him during his childhood, but it all stopped when he finally moved out for good. Since then, he dreamed knife-less dreams.

He decided not to help anyways when he saw that his mother began to cool her temper, and started a conversation with Sakurai by asking him: “Does my son behave at work?” Aiba rolled his eyes, thinking it was for his own good not to eavesdrop on their conversation as much as he wanted to know Sakurai’s point of view. Instead, with Kazu safely in his arms, he might as well kill time by showing him around his grandparents’ house.

Aiba started with the front entrance since Kazu hadn’t a chance to see it himself. He pointed out the shoe rack that his parents only changed once before he moved out. It used to be a plastic rack with small plastic cubbies, but it was replaced by a steel rack that had pipes running across to hold the shoes. There used to be a lot of shoes stored in the rack that it was almost impossible to find his every morning when he headed to school, or hung out with his friends. Since he and Yuusuke moved out, only his mother’s and father’s shoes rested comfortably on the racks.

“We should get one at home, ne, Kazu?” he mumbled, his lips touching his son’s short hair. He hadn’t noticed how fast Kazu’s hair was growing. When he saw him for the first time in the nursery at the hospital, he barely had hair on his small head. A good haircut sounds nice next weekend, he thought as they moved to the living room.

His parents always admired western housing that they even had a chimney installed when they had enough money. He was ten when he remembered the hot summer afternoons walking in from their backyard, past the construction workers, to the kitchen for a cold drink or a snack. The sounds of the chimney being built bothered the household and his neighbors, but Aiba liked the loud sounds: the heavy hammer pounding against wall, the screaming buzzes from the saw (his parents always warned him not to touch), and the loud and boring conversations about building the construction workers exchanged. By the end of summer vacation, the chimney was built and his parents felt complete.

On the mantle of the chimney were pictures of him and Yuusuke when they were babies and children. His mom insisted on adding the photos she adored, meaning that she picked the most embarrassing ones to display to the whole world. As much as he and Yuusuke begged her to take down the frames, it never happened and they still sat there for years.

However, his mother had recently added a new frame. He could tell because the new frame had a better quality and color compared to his and Yuusuke’s old photos. In the frame was a slightly larger photo of his nephew, compared to his father’s smaller photos. It was as if she was more proud of her grandson than her own child, but that’s only because she loved to brag about having a grandson.

“You’re photo will be up there, too, I hope,” he told Kazu and checked if there was space behind his photos; there was enough space to add in about two to three photos of Kazu. “And I hope the same size as your cousin’s.”

Other than the photos, there was nothing interesting about the living room, except a stain on the white rug under the coffee table. Aiba told Kazu how he bumped into Yuusuke accidentally when he was heading to the bathroom, and caused his brother’s elbow to tip over the glass filled with grape juice on the carpet. Instead of his little brother getting in trouble, he ended up taking the blame.

The sounds of his mother’s soft chatter and Sakurai rambling about Aiba couldn’t catch onto, he took Kazu to tour the kitchen. As soon as he entered, his mother, her knife out of sight, ran to her grandson with a smile on her face. She smelled heavily of onion, garlic, and raw chicken that warned Aiba to move aside; his mother missed and pouted.

“I’m taking Kazu on a tour, ma. Go back to cooking.”

“Fine. Give me a chance to play with my grandson after we’re done here.”

“Ok. Say ‘thanks for the hard work,’ Kazu.” He waved his son’s arm for him and his mother waved her fingers.

“How about me?” Aiba blushed hard when he heard Sakurai’s whine, and looked away when he waved Kazu’s arm shyly. He was relieved when Sakurai resumed cutting up whatever was on the cutting board.

There was an island in the middle of the kitchen area, and the counter table faced the sink. This place was one of Aiba’s favorite places when he was a kid because his legs were unable to touch the ground, but the steel ring around the stool. He swung his legs every time he sat on it before he was scolded, or spun around the stool until the world spun crazily in his eyes. But all that lasted until middle school: he became taller and his toes can reach the floor with ease; he grew taller every year and his feet was able to touch the wooden floor.

“I should install one at home, too,” he mumbled, spinning the cushion around with his free arm, the other carrying Kazu.

“What was that Masaki?” His mother asked without turning around.

“Nothing,” he squeaked, sensing that Sakurai might speak to him too. Fearing that he may blush again, he escaped to the second floor.

He stood against the first wall his back can lean on and he found himself panting heavily against Kazu. There was no one else, but Sakurai who made him feel all nervous and tingly all over, but in a good way that he couldn’t explain. The rush of blood going through his veins thrilled him in unexplainable ways whenever he saw, heard, or thought of Sakurai. He felt his body tremble in excited mini ripples when he heard Sakurai’s laughter from downstairs since he wasn’t far from earshot. His hand covered his mouth to suppress the giggles when he heard Sakurai’s reply in his deep alluring voice. His feet—

The weak kicks of Kazu brought him back to his senses and all thoughts of Sakurai, and the sound of his voice were drowned filled with worry for Kazu. He thought that his son was hungry, but it seems that he was just asking for his attention. “Sorry, Kazu,” he apologized and smoothed his hand on his son’s head. He laughed to himself when he felt Kazu’s hair tickle his palm. “Let’s go to my room. I can’t show you to Yuusuke’s or my parents, but I hope you like it.”

His room was the first door on the left, making it the easiest to access his room instead of walking more hallways, but also the easiest to fall dangerously down the stairs at night if he wasn’t careful enough; thankfully, holding onto the railings helped when conscious wasn’t as awake as his slow moving body. The first thing he did, out of habit, was to lock the door (because he didn’t get to have as much privacy back then). Once he was behind the closed door, Aiba sat his son on his old twin sized bed and was glad that his mother regularly changed the blankets, as if she was expecting him to come back anytime soon.

The bed sheets were light green and it matched Kazu’s with the color of Kazu’s light blue clothing. Smiling, he crawled on the bed with his son and held him close to his chest. Kazu felt so unbelievably warm against him, and he had only realized by then, as he watched his son stare at everything with huge eyes, how much he loved him, although the time they spent were less than a month. He wondered if Kazu would grow up happily like he did and make wonderful memories in his life, and that he'd be able to share it with him. As he was about to fall asleep from being too comfortable on his old bed, his mother calls for dinner. He sat up, with Kazu on his lap, wondering how time moved by so fast.

TBC