layer cake (okuyasu)

14 July 2014

Not a lot talks about when you have to take care of your dad like some kind of oversized pet. Ends up that Okuyasu wishes for all the same problems Josuke complains about, sometimes. Mom grounded me. Dad's visiting. Nephew says I can't go out tonight.

Seems nice.

Okuyasu tells the secret to the mess that used to be Dad anyway. Just sort of sits with him while he makes these gelatinous noises from his throat, feeds him orange slices and tells him. Predictably, he doesn't really react. He pats angrily at the ground when Okuyasu runs out of orange, all like an irritated infant, but doesn't have much to say otherwise.

Okuyasu lets him gobble down the rest of their combined lunch and goes to Josuke's. Tells Dad first, of course, you always gotta tell your dad where you're going, and leaves even as he's gurgling some kind of acknowledgement. Or ignorance. It's hard to tell.

Anyway, it figures that Josuke's the one who makes Okuyasu's throat close up and choke off noises. It's like -- what if this is it, you know? Josuke, Tomoko, they're the mom and the brother Okuyasu lost once already. After Mom and Keicho, there's no more room in those specific graves. So Josuke cracks jokes through dinner and Tomoko gives that special smile she reserves just for Okuyasu and Okuyasu picks at food and doesn't quite eat. Sorry, not feelin' that great tonight. Yeah, no, it smells really good, I just can't keep anything down, that's all.

Josuke says hey, spend the night, which is literally fucking terrifying and the dark outside seems to press in like cotton balls filling up Okuyasu's lungs and it's just as stifling inside the house as it is outside of it and Okuyasu says yeah, ok.

There's no way to get to sleep, now, between the humid summer air and the fog of nerves that sneaks into Okuyasu's breath and squeezes at every artery and the little hush of Josuke's voice talking about this and that and the other thing. So it's like 1:13 in the morning and Okuyasu knows it because the red sting of the clock gets stuck on your eyes for things like this, and Okuyasu tells him.

Josuke goes kind of quiet. Which, it turns out, feels more frightening than if he'd screamed. Okuyasu's stomach churns and it's fortunate there's nothing in it to throw up. Josuke sleeps late the next morning but Okuyasu says oh, uh, I gotta get going, have to make breakfast for my dad and Tomoko promises she'll tell Josuke.

But the short path home is blocked by air so thick Okuyasu can't walk through it, or maybe just reluctance so heavy it drags up ribs and spine. Okuyasu turns back up the street and walks.

Apparently, you get stressed, you get hungry, your body knows where to take you. The door to the trattoria jingles with the sounds of bells strung up over the frame. It already smells wonderful in this place, the way it always does, gentle herbs and dulled-down heat and various spices. There's this one table Okuyasu sits at every time, and so sits there this time, too.

Tonio comes out of the kitchen with a towel in his hands, wiping his arms dry, and he sees Okuyasu with a fading smile before he says, like Okuyasu is an open book, "Ah." Ah. "You do not look very hungry, today."

"I am, I'm just... I'm not," Okuyasu says. Tonio sits down across the table, and this is the first time he's ever done anything like this. Tonio's that kind of person, though, soft eyes that see right through you, hardly shy around the things you want to be afraid of. He mirrors Okuyasu's pose, propping his head up in one hand, eyes trained on Okuyasu's face.

"The only time I will not eat when I am hungry," he says, "is when I am very troubled. Is something troubling you?"

"Kind of," Okuyasu mumbles. "Kind of something's like, the opposite of troublin'. Is there a word for that? Untroubling? I dunno."

Tonio seems to get it. Always does. He nods and straightens up, holding up a finger. "I think I know what will help you to feel more comfortable talking about it. Just a few minutes."

He disappears into the kitchen again and comes back, impossibly quickly as always, with a thick slice of dark chocolate cake shining with nearly-black ganache. He sets it in front of Okuyasu lightly, arranges a fork next to the plate, and Okuyasu's eyes go wide and watery at the sight of it.

"No charge," Tonio insists, and Okuyasu could sob. Tonio sits down again as Okuyasu takes the first bite and hums so contentedly around it.

"So, is there something which you would like to share? I know I am hardly Josuke Higashikata, but I like to think that we are friends." Tonio watches the cake splitting around Okuyasu's fork as he talks. "It's all right if you'd rather not tell me. The cake will still be yours."

Okuyasu sighs, dropping the fork onto the plate with a high noise. "It's... I dunno if you'd get it. I dunno if anyone'll get it."

"You will not know until you try," Tonio offers gently, and he's right. He's right way too often. Okuyasu swallows.

There's this moment of quiet, during which Okuyasu pushes the fork around the plate, scraping it through the drizzle of chocolate decorating the ceramic. Tonio folds his hands.

"I tried to tell Josuke," Okuyasu says, finally. "I don't think he knew what I meant. And I told my dad, but my dad's... he's not well enough to figure this sort of stuff out. But."

Another moment.

"I guess I just don't really know how to tell people I'm a girl," she says. Her shoulders hunch against the weight of the words, and she doesn't look right at Tonio when she speaks. "It's probably my fault." She prods at the cake with the fork, puncturing the smooth gloss of the ganache on top.

She can barely see Tonio's head tilt, curious. Her shoulders shrug up higher, up around her ears, and she stares into her lap.

"When I was younger," Tonio says, "my parents didn't believe me at first when I told them I was a boy."

And that changes a lot.

She's about to open her mouth and say something -- probably something ridiculous -- when the door bangs open and Josuke's framed in the sunlight from outside, the bell ringing in a clatter overhead. He's heaving, catching his breath, and Okuyasu looks at him with awe and confusion and a little bit of fear.

All the things she read told her to be scared, too, and she's finding that pretty easy.

But Tonio's still smiling easily, and when Josuke finds enough breath to talk, he says, "Shit, I've been lookin' all over for you, I shoulda known you would be here." He lets the door close behind him and it shuts out the sound of birds and distant traffic.

Okuyasu blinks at him. He blinks back. Josuke gets one of his lips between his teeth and worries at it for a second. "Look, uh... Uh." He pulls in this deep breath.

Then Josuke says in a quick babble, "M-my mom says I can take you out shopping if you wanna I didn't tell her or nothin' but I said you might want some new clothes cause I thought maybe you did since you're always wearing your school uniform and ratty old pants so I thought maybe we could get you a skirt or something if you wanted!"

He's holding his breath when he stops talking, and so is Okuyasu, and the only one making noise is Tonio. Tonio is laughing very quietly under his breath.

Eventually Okuyasu clears her throat, and she says, "Dude, you think my pants are 'ratty?'"

Josuke frowns. "They're -- they're kind of ratty, ok."

"Rude as hell, man." But she's smiling. She's grinning. "Let me finish my cake first."

"Whaaat, you got cake?"

"It is for ladies only," Tonio explains, and she has to try not to cry on the cake, mostly because salt probably wasn't in the recipe.