Work Text:
Day Four - strawberries / music /
crows
He’s walking down the street that his childhood home stands on when his phone chimes.
Suna (9:32 am): Are you there yet?
Tsukishima (9:32 am): I will be in a moment. I told you I’d text you when I get there, don’t be so impatient.
Suna (9:33 am): Yeah, yeah. You gonna tell your mom?
Kei sighs deeply out of his nose. He’s got a grocery bag in one hand, full of strawberries that he bought on his way from the train station, and he runs his free hand through his pale hair. He’s been dating Suna for a while now— a little over a year, starting shortly after they reconnected during his second year in college— and they argued a bit about the fact that Kei hasn’t told his mother yet. In fact, Kei hasn’t even told her that he’s gay at all; he just hasn’t felt the need. It’s not that he’s embarrassed or ashamed , or anything like that, he just doesn’t want to rock the boat. Things at home are good, why should he risk that?
Tsukishima (9:34 am): We already talked about this. No.
Suna (9:35 am): I know, I just thought I’d ask.
He feels a little bad about being short, but this is something about him that Suna understands by now. He knows it’s just because Suna cares about him, anyway, so he reminds himself not to be too prickly about it. He finally reaches his mother’s home, and he fumbles with his house key when he gets to the door.
Suna (9:35 am): I love you, you know.
Tsukishima (9:36 am): Gross.
He opens the front door and is immediately greeted by the sound of an old record being played, accompanied by the familiar sound of his mother singing along with it. He smiles at the nostalgia, and shoots a couple more texts to his boyfriend.
Tsukishima (9:37 am): I’m here now. I’ll call at the end of the day.
Tsukishima (9:38am): Love you too.
“Kei, honey, is that you?” His mother calls from somewhere in the house, and Kei follows her voice into the kitchen. She’s just drying her hands as he walks in. The record she has playing in the living room is one that he’s familiar with— Simon and Garfunkel’s Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme.
“Yeah, it’s me, mom. You look wonderful.”
Her smile is as kind and as soothing as he’s always remembered— Akiteru definitely inherited his smile from their mother, not that Kei would ever admit that to his brother. He approaches her at the sink, setting the bag of strawberries down on the counter, and wraps her up in a tight hug. The side of her head is pressed snugly against his sternum, and he cranes his neck down to plant a kiss on top of her hair.
She pulls away, holding him at arms length as she beams up at her youngest son.
“I’ve missed you. You could stand to call more, you know.” She pats him jovially on the arm before turning around to wash the strawberries he bought from the market.
“I know, ma. I’ll try to be better.” He feels his heart swell at a memory of his childhood self, standing in this kitchen with her, and still short enough to have his hair ruffled. She’d probably need a ladder to get away with that, now.
“Sure you will, kiddo.” She reaches up and pinches his cheek, as if he isn’t about forty-five centimetres taller than her. “Are you ready to get started on the jam?” She’s already pulled a cutting board from the cupboard and started hulling the strawberries, throwing them in a bowl for Kei to quarter, just like tradition dictates for them. He smiles at the cutting board that she has set up for him right next to hers, washes his hands, and grabs his knife.
He’s chopping the strawberries, listening to his mother sing along to what he knows to be the last song on the record; it’s an odd song about politics in the United States that he doesn’t really understand, but he loves hearing his mother sing nonetheless. The English songs remind her of her family that lives across the Pacific. The late morning sunshine is pouring in from the window they stand in front of, and he’s admiring the small succulents that she has lining the window sill. The record comes to an end, and he hears the needle crackle as it leaves the vinyl.
“Would you be a dear and put on a different record for me? Bridge Over Troubled Water, please.” She’s finished hulling, and she bumps Kei out of the way to take over his portion. He’s about to tease her for staying with Simon and Garfunkel when he notices the sunlight catch on her hair.
It’s always been darker blonde, closer to Akiteru’s sandy color than his own flaxen curls, but it’s started to glitter when it catches light. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t noticed before, but his mother’s hair has begun to grey.
His breath catches in his throat without his consent, and he freezes when he realizes that her hands look more worn, too, from working so hard her entire life— for him, and for Akiteru. The laugh lines on her cheeks are just a little more noticeable, the crow’s feet by her eyes a little bit deeper.
He’s been so busy growing up that he forgot that his mother has been growing up, too.
She turns to him, arching a perfect, confused eyebrow in his direction. “You doing okay?”
Kei clears his throat before washing his hands at the sink. He pointedly ignores that he fumbles with the soap dispenser with shaking hands, and his mother has the decency to ignore it, too. “Yeah, sorry. I just got a little bit lost in thought.”
She looks at him as if seeing his soul, her lips pursed together. “Well, that’s okay. But. . . you know you can tell me anything, right? You’re my very favorite son named Kei, you know. Nothing could change that.” She bumps him with her elbow in the direction of the record player, and he shuffles his way over to the record player the room over.
He takes the finished record, placing it back into its sleeve, and begins browsing. As he’s flipping through the records in the apple crate, he can’t help but let his mind wander through all the time that has passed.
When he was four years old, Kei fell while playing outside with Akiteru. His mother scooped him up in her arms and kissed his tears away, and gave him strawberry ice cream to distract him while she cleaned his scraped knees.
He pulls Bridge Over Troubled Water out of the crate, removing it from its sleeve, and places it on the record player. He presses start on the record player, and the needle crackles as it makes contact with the vinyl. Soon, a piano intro is pouring out of the speakers, and he stands there for a moment watching the record spin.
When he was six years old, Kei watched a children’s movie about dinosaurs, and he cried when Little Foot’s mother was killed. His mother wiped his tears, telling him that he didn’t have to worry about her abandoning him.
When you’re weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all
Kei’s feet feel like lead when he drags himself back to the kitchen and he hears his mother already singing along with the same beautiful voice that he’s always remembered. He’s been lying to her, when she’s done nothing but love him.
When he was eleven years old, Kei finds out that his brother has been lying to him. He doesn’t cry, but his mother assures him that it would be okay if he did.
I’m on your side, when times get rough, and friends just can’t be found
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down
When he was sixteen years old, Kei’s heart was broken for the first time. He doesn’t tell his mother that it was because of a boy, but she’s there with strawberry ice cream and a Jurassic Park DVD anyway. ‘ You don’t have to tell me,’ she said, and handed him a box of tissues.
Kei is brought back to the present when his mother speaks again, and he realizes he’s just been looming in the kitchen doorway.
“Kei, what’s taking so long? I’ve finished the— oh, my love, what’s wrong?” She wipes her hands on her apron before rushing over to Kei, her calloused thumbs dragging against his cheeks.
Kei stands there for a second before he finally registers that he’s started crying hot, fat tears.
When you’re down and out, when you’re on the street
When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you
“Mom—” Kei chokes, just a little bit, and he’s ushered over to the small table in the corner of the kitchen.
“Shh, honey, it’s okay. Just take a second.” She pushes him down into the chair, takes off his glasses to set on the table, and calmly goes to grab Kei a cup of water to give him a chance to collect himself.
She comes back and sits across from him, just humming along until he’s ready to speak.
“There’s something I haven’t told you, mom. I— I’m sorry. I’ve just been worried.” Kei’s caught his breath, but the tears haven’t stopped falling yet.
“Sweetheart, you can tell me anything. You’re not. . . you’re not in trouble, are you?” She rests a hand on his arm as he fidgets with his hands on the table, rubbing small, soothing circles.
Sail on silver boy, sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way, see how they shine?
At this, he huffs out a laugh. “No, I’m not in trouble.” He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Mom, I— I have a boyfriend.”
She doesn’t even give him a second to stew before she wraps him up in a bone crushing hug.
When he’s twenty-two years old, Kei tells his mother that he’s gay, and she wipes away his tears just like she did when he was four, and when he was six, and when he was eleven, and when he was sixteen.
“Baby, I’m sorry that you felt like you needed to keep it to yourself, but I’m so happy that you’ve told me.” At this, Kei can’t help but cry harder. She strokes one hand through his hair, soothing him like she did when he was a tiny, defenseless child. At this moment, he doesn’t feel all that different. “You’re— you’re my Kei. Nothing could change that, definitely nothing like this. You’ve always been you, and I’ve always been proud of you.”
If you need a friend, I’m sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind
He’s still crying, but he laughs through his tears, finally looking up to meet his mother’s gaze. He realizes that she, too, has tears streaming down her face, right past the proud smile she wears.
“What’s he like, kiddo?” She keeps one hand on his arm, using the other to wipe her own tears.
He laughs, already feeling so much better. “He’s annoying as hell, but. . . he’s great. He plays volleyball too, same position as me.” She laughs, like she knows how ironic it is that volleyball has brought him so much happiness given his bad outlook on it when he started high school. “He’s got such an attitude—”
“Can’t possibly have much more of an attitude than you, Kei,” she teases.
“You’re right about that,” he giggles, “but it’s definitely close. He’s really smart, too. We’ve been together for. . . a little more than a year, and I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner, but I love him. And I love you. I think. . . I think I was worried I was going to have to choose.” He wipes the last lingering hears from his eyes and offers his mother a small, genuine smile. “I guess that was pretty foolish of me, huh?”
“Foolish as anything, dear, but that’s okay. Go wash your face, and let’s get back to the jam. It’s not going to make itself, you know.” She pats him on the cheek before going to the kitchen sink to wash her own tear stained face.
Kei makes his way to the restroom, and immediately washes his face with cold water. He looks at himself in the mirror, and his eyes are red rimmed and puffy, but it’s been a long time since he’s felt so light.
He goes back to the kitchen and his mother already has the strawberries simmering in a pot with sugar, lemon, and pectin. She thrusts a stainless steel masher into his hands and demands that he get back to work, lest his pay be withheld. He laughs, and gets to mashing.
“Does this boy have a name?” She’s leaning against the counter, watching Kei as he mashes the mixture.
He snorts and resists the urge to tell her no, he’s dating someone nameless.
“Suna. Suna Rintarou,” his expression is soft as he smiles back at her.
“Well, let this Suna know that he’s welcome here anytime, and I expect to meet him soon, given that you’ve been dating so incredibly long and hiding it from your dearest mother.” She places a hand over her heart in mock pain, but he can tell by her trademark smile that she’s nothing short of elated.
“I will, mom. Thank you,” he turns off the heat to let the finished jam cool before they put it into glass mason jars.
“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I love you.” She wraps Kei up in another hug, and he hugs back just a little tighter than before.
“I love you too, mom.”
Like a bridge over troubled water,
I will ease your mind
Tsukishima (4:38 pm): I told her. It went well. She wants to meet you.
Suna (4:38 pm): I told you it would be fine, Kei.
Suna (4:38 pm): I’m proud of you.
Tsukishima (4:40 pm): I know.
Tsukishima (4:42 pm): I love you.
Suna (4:44 pm): Gross.
Suna (4:45 pm): Love you too.