Page 7 of The Vanishing
“I wanna read Latino too!” he says.
“It’sLatin,” Sora says, rolling her eyes. “Haruka needs to concentrate. You two can’t be fighting and climbing all over him while he’s working.”
Shion directs her attention to her brother. “We won’t, will we, Amon?”
“We won’t—we promise.”
“Depending on the complexity of the will and trust, it might be nice to have company at least some of the time?” Haruka strokes his chin, playful. “Certainly for the occasional tea break?”
“Mom—he said sometimes!” Shion pleads, her bouncy ponytail slapping Haruka in the chin as she whips her head around.
“For breaks, Mom!” Amon adds.
Sora gives Haruka a hesitant look, but he nods to reassure her. “Alright…” Sora sighs. “But you have to behave and listen to Haruka when you’re in the study with him.”
A chorus of small voices rings out in celebration. Kosuke carries a large tray of tea and pressed sticky rice to the table. The oval-shaped sweets are powdery pink and wrapped in green leaves—cherry blossom mochi to celebrate the spring.
“Haru-sama, what’s your favorite color?” Shion asks.
“Hm… I like amber.”
“Me too,” Shion says.
“Me too!” Amon echoes.
Sora snorts. “Shion, you like green—"
“Nuh-uh, I changed.” Shion raises her chin. “I like amber now.”
“Whatis amber?” Amon asks, puzzled. He bulldozes on. “Haru-sama, do you like to read manga?”
“I’ve never read any,” Haruka says. “Perhaps I should? Which one do you like?”
“What?” Amon bounces in Sora’s lap, his eyes wide. “You’ve never read manga?No way.Dad loves manga. When Mom is at the hospital,all he doesis read manga—”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Kosuke interjects, reaching down to snatch Amon up from his mate’s lap. “You see what we deal with every day? Small creatures that never, ever, ever stop talking.”
Haruka breathes a laugh as Shion leans forward in his lap, stretching and reaching for the mochi. He understands Sora and Kosuke’s exasperation. It is natural.
For Haruka though, this environment is special. Whenever he visits the Fujihara family, his heart warms. But the edges are painted with a gentle melancholy. When he was still very young and on the cusp of forming his first bond, he had imagined his life to be something like this. At least he’d hoped.
After a while, it became clear that he should give up. So he did. He buried the quiet desire deep down, never giving it another thought.
Things haven’t turned out the way he’d imagined, but he is infinitely grateful. He has Nino. A second bond. A serendipitous meeting and miraculous circumstance that he never anticipated. He couldn’t ask for anything more. He wouldn’t.
* * *
By the timeHaruka returns home, it is night. The house is silent. He walks into the kitchen and the white moonlight spills in from the glass courtyard doors and onto the sturdy oak table.
As Haruka moves forward, he’s amazed at the decadent sight before him. Thick black candles occupy the center of the table, flickering and burning softly. Beside them, a tall glass vase filled with long-stemmed red roses in full bloom. The atmosphere glows with dark elegance and romance.
Suddenly, Nino is behind him, snaking his arms around Haruka’s waist to embrace him and pull him into his chest. He plants a firm kiss just underneath Haruka’s ear. “Tesoro, bentornato a casa.”
Darling, welcome home.Grinning, Haruka leans into the hug. “Grazie, amore mio. This looks exquisite.”
“It reminds me of you.” Nino reaches up to pull his collar away from his neck. He lowers his head, placing a soft kiss at the top of Haruka’s spine. “Your aura and eyes haven’t glowed in that brilliant rose-red color since we bonded. I miss it.”
Haruka turns in his grasp, embracing Nino’s shoulders. “I don’t,” he says. “I much prefer my nature entwined with yours.” He leans in to kiss Nino, indulging in the rich, cinnamon-infused taste of him.
