Tsutomu was curled up, deeply asleep and covered with a blanket, his face tucked up against the crook of Tokio’s arm. She was also asleep, though sleeping on top of the covers rather than under them. On her side, she was cradling his son, their son a child they had raised together so many years ago, keeping him warm, keeping him safe.
While her choice in night wear could never be described as fetching - a modest, worn flannel nightgown that clashed terribly with his red, too large socks half dangling from her small feet, the sight of the them both sleeping was one of the most beautiful things his decidedly non-poetic soul had ever witnessed. While his son’s expression was that of a child completely at ease, the woman who was watching over him, even in sleep, was protective.
For a moment, he was tempted to let them continue sleeping, wanting nothing more than to simply watch them sleep, but duty demanded he do otherwise.
Quietly, he entered the guest room and knelt down beside the sleeping pair. Careful not to disturb the sleeping boy, he reached out and gently brushed an errant lock of hair way from Tokio’s face, exposing her face, half hidden in shadow. (Gods, she’s beautiful) She was awake instantly, as he knew she would be, her initial expression of alarm, softening when her eyes met his.
Rather than removing his hand, he let it linger for a moment, savoring the contact of her skin against his. Two days. They’d had two days together. Without thinking, he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, thankfully no longer bruised and sore. The desire to kiss her was nearly overwhelming, but he forced himself not to. It wouldn’t be fair to Tokio and he had always tried to be a fair man.
He motioned that he would pick Tsutomu up and she nodded, though he could see she regretted letting the boy go. He regretted it as well, but there was nothing that could be done about it. “Meet me in the kitchen” he whispered so softly that his deep voice was nearly inaudible. She nodded and while her face was a study in control, her grey eyes were stark.
When she’d come to his office to return his sidearm, he’d asked her trust him. He hoped that despite the discussion they needed to have, that trust she’d placed in him would hold out. So much depended on it. On her. Nodding, he stood up, cradling Tsutomu in his arms. The boy was getting heavier, taller, his limbs becoming lanky, whispering of inevitable adolescence. Carefully, Saitoh carried his son into the bedroom that he shared with his younger brother. Laying him down on his bed, Saitoh covered Tsutomu with a light blanket.
Softly, as he had tried to every morning for over a year, once he’d committed himself to sobriety and earning the right to raise his boys on his own, he gently ruffled the boy’s hair and whispered that he loved him, then repeated the gesture with his youngest boy. He was careful and quiet enough that the boys never woke up. That had never been the point of this daily habit. It was a reminder of what he was fighting for and that he had so much to make up for.
Saitoh stood up and soundlessly left the room, carefully closing the door behind him so that his discussion with Tokio would remain private.
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Date: 2019-05-12 12:43 pm (UTC)While her choice in night wear could never be described as fetching - a modest, worn flannel nightgown that clashed terribly with his red, too large socks half dangling from her small feet, the sight of the them both sleeping was one of the most beautiful things his decidedly non-poetic soul had ever witnessed. While his son’s expression was that of a child completely at ease, the woman who was watching over him, even in sleep, was protective.
For a moment, he was tempted to let them continue sleeping, wanting nothing more than to simply watch them sleep, but duty demanded he do otherwise.
Quietly, he entered the guest room and knelt down beside the sleeping pair. Careful not to disturb the sleeping boy, he reached out and gently brushed an errant lock of hair way from Tokio’s face, exposing her face, half hidden in shadow. (Gods, she’s beautiful) She was awake instantly, as he knew she would be, her initial expression of alarm, softening when her eyes met his.
Rather than removing his hand, he let it linger for a moment, savoring the contact of her skin against his. Two days. They’d had two days together. Without thinking, he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, thankfully no longer bruised and sore. The desire to kiss her was nearly overwhelming, but he forced himself not to. It wouldn’t be fair to Tokio and he had always tried to be a fair man.
He motioned that he would pick Tsutomu up and she nodded, though he could see she regretted letting the boy go. He regretted it as well, but there was nothing that could be done about it. “Meet me in the kitchen” he whispered so softly that his deep voice was nearly inaudible. She nodded and while her face was a study in control, her grey eyes were stark.
When she’d come to his office to return his sidearm, he’d asked her trust him. He hoped that despite the discussion they needed to have, that trust she’d placed in him would hold out. So much depended on it. On her. Nodding, he stood up, cradling Tsutomu in his arms. The boy was getting heavier, taller, his limbs becoming lanky, whispering of inevitable adolescence. Carefully, Saitoh carried his son into the bedroom that he shared with his younger brother. Laying him down on his bed, Saitoh covered Tsutomu with a light blanket.
Softly, as he had tried to every morning for over a year, once he’d committed himself to sobriety and earning the right to raise his boys on his own, he gently ruffled the boy’s hair and whispered that he loved him, then repeated the gesture with his youngest boy. He was careful and quiet enough that the boys never woke up. That had never been the point of this daily habit. It was a reminder of what he was fighting for and that he had so much to make up for.
Saitoh stood up and soundlessly left the room, carefully closing the door behind him so that his discussion with Tokio would remain private.
His walk down the hall seemed like an eternity.