[For all its convenience, there is a downside to the earpiece's thought-to-text function:]
Yes.
[Sometimes, it's just a bit too sensitive for him to tamp down his first instincts before they're sent along. Yujin pinches the bridge of his nose, cursing the embarrassing speed of that answer, then waits another moment before he continues.]
Where should I meet you? Naruhodo is out for the moment, if you'd like to come here.
[Stephen hasn't said what this is about, but he can make an educated guess.]
[ And he does them both favour of walking the distance from his own room to Yujin's rather than appearing to him in a circle of sparks or knocking at the door a split second after the invitation was made. It's a choice that only really buys them both maybe two minutes before Stephen's standing outside, but that's two more minutes than they might have had, and he certainly needed them. ]
[So did Yujin. At least one of them's trying to stay cool here.
Without further ado, the door to Ryunosuke and Yujin's shared room opens. As promised, only the older of the two greets Stephen today, expression carefully neutral as he mutters a greeting-- and a vague apology for the mess-- then steps aside to let him in and close the door after him.
Mess isn't quite accurate. Rather, the room, especially for default Ximilia-dwelling standard, looks well lived-in. Throughout the room are small mementos from missions and assorted piles of books and notes-- Yujin's side noticeably more straightened and off the floor than Ryunosuke's. There's a large traveling trunk with a cloth draped over it to create a makeshift table, around which are a pair of station-issue chairs.]
I take it, [says Yujin, taking a seat,] this is about the mission?
[ Is there really any world in which he could say no? Would Yujin play along if he claimed he'd come here just to see him, buy them both another ten minutes?
But no. It doesn't matter - he's here now, and the answer is: ]
How did you know?
[ Still a joke, but one that owes up to their circumstances. Fresh from the glance around the room he'd taken to briefly avoid making eye contact, Stephen fixes Yujin with a slightly sheepish smirk and joins him at the table. ]
Interesting timing.
[ To reference the elephant in the room quickly and lightly before it looms too large. ]
A lucky guess. [He raises a brow skeptically:] And my young mentee is off to meet his betrothed, himself.
[Poking fun at the entire mess does make it feel lighter. Somewhat. Perhaps it'll make the actual decision easier to speak on. Finally daring to meet his eyes, Yujin ventures to offer Stephen his own hesitant smile.]
It would be a bit of a speedy engagement.
[Just two weeks from first kiss to marriage. Reminding himself of the absurdity helps a little, too.]
[ His betrothed. It catches him off guard - earns a cough of surprised laughter a moment later as Yujin follows it up with reference to a speedy engagement. The whole thing is really, incredibly bizarre, isn't it? But this is better. Takes the edge off the conversation to acknowledge it.
But here they are. No use dodging it, they don't have that long to make their decisions. Yujin asks and Stephen takes in a breath, steeling himself, and ]
I think it makes sense. [ It. What it is that they're here to discuss. And instead of take this entirely seriously, which he knows he probably should, he swerves staring directly down the barrel again with a follow up: ] And I don't think there's anybody else I could reasonably inflict myself on.
[He chuckles with Stephen-- always fun, to catch the Very Important Wizard off-guard-- and more of the tension ebbs away. This does make sense. But first, so, so dryly:] Joel Miller will be heartbroken.
At any rate. I think you're right. We're close enough in age, we know that we get on well. [Very well? He pushes the very not-orb-related concerns aside; that's definitely not the point of this arrangement, so he'll save it.] And you did stay in our apartment a few missions ago, didn't you? Sharing a space wouldn't be an issue.
From the outside-- [Two men in our situation could have easily met and married, he almost says, before catching himself and hastily rephrasing.] it's convincing. I think we should do it.
[He lets that statement settle for a moment-- as if he, too, needs the convincing.]
The backstory might be simpler than we think, too, if we just change a few details of our real lives.
[ And look at him go, he does it again, the straight-faced jest about Joel forcing another helpless breath of laughter hissing out between Stephen's teeth. But Yujin has more to say and he lets him, listening to the stream of very valid, sensible points Yujin lines up between them for inspection.
And thank god. It all sounds so practical framed like this. No need to make mention of the fact that he'd rather not have to sneak around on another world to spend time with Yujin in the context they've recently been enjoying, or to try to dodge making jokes about a marriage of convenience as he admits to wanting to take advantage of the chance to share space. Private space. A luxury they had for all of five minutes before the arrival of the recent intake.
This is a sensible arrangement. It makes sense. A nod of his head, resolute, shifting into game-face mode to cover any nervous cracks. ]
Two medical professionals meet in the city. —Students? [ How long do they want to have been married for? How old of a marriage would be the simplest to perform? ] Anyway. If we keep the accident it'd explain why we moved to the Grove.
[ It doesn't even occur to him in this realm of near-infinite possibility to try to pass himself off as a life-long small town kind of guy: he isn't. But a forced retirement and the quiet return to a gentler life? That he thinks would suit the pair of them quite well.
... in this completely fabricated scenario.
Never mind that he says 'the accident' like Yujin has any real context for it. It's somehow easy to forget that they managed to become close without learning all that much about the lives that brought them here. ]
[Much as he wants his intentions to be entirely honest, the rare commodity of privacy is on Yujin's mind, too. His face betrays that deadpan joke; as Stephen laughs again, a smile tugs at the corner of his own lip. If they're alone together, he'll get to see this Stephen more often. Of course it isn't the point. But it doesn't need to be to make this work-- thank god.
Back to business. Yujin rubs his chin, brow knitted thoughtfully. How long does it take to become a doctor, these days? It must be different from what he remembers in the Japan of his youth. He'd already been practicing by his mid-twenties, so if they'd been students, that would mean...]
Or early in our careers.
[He shrugs a shoulder, noncommittal, but a shiver creeps down his spine at the consideration of time. Whichever they choose, this false marriage will have lasted years longer than his real one.
A moment later, a second realization strikes him: the accident. The facts of Stephen's hands might not have been apparent to anyone but him: both a doctor and a man who's cared to pay close attention to them. Occasionally, they tremble; when he thinks no one is looking, he'll stretch his fingers, relieving some unseen tension.]
Oh. [Yujin breathes, reaching that belated conclusion. From medicine to mysticism. So the first step Stephen made towards magic hadn't been a willing one, then. It feels like something he should have already known, but despite their current closeness... they really don't know very much about each other, do they? His hand falls back into his lap, expression now entirely sober.]
I don't think you ever told me about it. What happened?
[ A glance up, caught out of a single-minded train of thought by the question, the halt of momentum momentarily jarring him away from reaching the obvious conclusion. 'It'? What 'it'?
Oh.
There's a breath in, surprised. Either it hadn't occurred to him that Yujin hadn't known, or he's startled by his own assumption that somewhere along the way he must've told him. What he's not is immediately uncomfortable, and that is a surprise in itself.
The moment breaks with a raise of brows, shaking off his oversight with the huffed release of that breath, and with it any tension. This all happened a lifetime ago. In history, it feels so distant. In lived reality, it's always only yesterday. Always right this second.
That averages out at long enough ago that it doesn't hurt to recount. ]
My car went off a cliff road. [ Quick, easy as that. And it had been, in a sense. There one second, gone the next. ] I was on my way to a neurological society dinner, my assistant called through with some prospective patients, one sounded promising [ the slightest little wince at that - 'promising', as in worth his time, as in meaningful professionally ] so I asked him to send me the scans. They warn you about texting while driving but they never explicitly tell you not to look at cranial x-rays while overtaking another vehicle on a winding road at night. Which I think is a little remiss.
[ There's a small smirk here, rich with enough humour around the eyes to let Yujin in on the joke. Some of the context might be outside of his experience, technology here and at home sitting far on either side of the phone screen that Stephen hadn't been able to keep his eyes off that night, but the point is less the details and more the fact that he knows it was his own fault.
Shouldn't take a rocket scientist or a neurosurgeon to figure out it's a bad idea to take your eyes off the road in the best of circumstances, but here he is with his consequences all the same. There's nobody to blame but himself, and most days he's past the point of even doing that. ]
About eight years ago now, closer to four in lived experience. [ ... maybe that's actually opening a bigger can of worms than they need to get into for the minute. ] Which is a longer story, and not all that relevant to the task at hand. I'll tell you at the breakfast table sometime.
[ Since it looks like they're going to be sharing one for a not inconsiderable amount of time very soon. ]
[They won't put telephones in cars for another fifty years. Cellular phones won't exist to send text messages-- much less photographs of x-rays, a technology still revolutionary to Yujin Mikotoba-- till another fifty after that. Even automobiles are still a rarity, decades behind those he'd briefly seen in use on Ankata and Ndeira.
Yujin cannot possibly count the space of these years. He can't see the future, after all. But he can almost grasp their shape as he assembles the pieces of the story in his mind. That's what really matters here. Stephen was distracted, lost control of his car, and went over the cliff road, taking his medical career with him.
Even if it had been his fault, even if the telling is no longer an open wound, the thought of this accident is chilling for a friend to hear for the first time. It's a miracle Stephen's alive at all, Yujin thinks, eight (or four?) years down a path he'd only have found in the midst of that tragedy and pain.
Before Yujin can stop himself, he reaches a hand out to rest atop Stephen's. Damaged, but still whole; still here. The empathy in his face is earnest.]
I hope it doesn't sound trite, but... I'm truly sorry.
[For what little good it'll do so long after the accident. He gives Stephen's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. And then, pulling away awkwardly, Yujin remembers: they're "keeping" the accident.]
So, when you stopped practicing, we left the city to settle down somewhere quieter. [A beat.] It'll just be the two of us around that table, then? [Skeptically:] No adoptions or previous children?
[ Yujin covers Stephen's hand with his own, a long way out from the last time someone offered him comfort for old wounds he's long since learned to live with, far enough out that the kneejerk urge to label it pity never arrives. The scars that run the lengths of his fingers, mapping out the bones of his hand, are mostly a faded white now, years past the savage reds and pinks that marked his entry into the Mystic Arts. Where Yujin's hand doesn't mask his completely, he notices these old tracks in a way he rarely does now they're so much a part of him, and the smile that he raises to meet Yujin's eye is grateful. If not for the sentiment (though certainly for that), then for the addition of himself to a growing list of things Stephen may never have known if his life had gone another way.
The world has gained much more than it lost from his accident, and for partly that reason he's never undone what he could have had he chosen to. But Stephen's gained things too. Here's a friend he might never have met. Empathy he might never have received.
It's a moment that doesn't need lingering on here and now. Brief if momentous, he files it away as Yujin withdraws. A new shelf of better-day boxes: Wong and the Masters and America Chavez; the crew of the Ximilia, Ciri and Jake the Dog and— Yujin Mikotoba.
And oh, that return to topic - isn't this a fun way to finally do the very most basic of getting to know yous? ]
Not on my end.
[ Easy. There's no story there, it's just never happened, so he doesn't have anything to offer their joint history. Instead of asking the question, Stephen watches Yujin, brows raised in silent if meaningful counter-query. ]
[Another touch of the hand; another quiet revelation. Small though it is, it's valuable, even if he's somewhat sheepish as he pulls away. Learning these things about each other is long overdue, but a belated conversation is better than none at all.
Yujin's smile wanes as the moment passes. He settles back into his own seat, contemplating the whole arrangement. Children will add an additional layer of stories to invent and relationships to corroborate.
Then, it hits him. Previous children?]
No, never mind. [Why did he say that?] We met in medical school. Of course there wouldn't have been previous children. My first marriage would have been...
[Yujin breaks off. There it is: the remnants of his own scar tissue, long healed over yet marking him still.]
I'm sorry. [He massages a temple.] I was married once. The mother of my daughter. Without thinking, I was including her in the cover story.
[ — ah. It hits him like the final collision of a train that's been careening down a track for so long that the world's basic forces have slowed it almost to a stop. Barely even a jolt on contact. Of course he was married. Yujin Mikotoba, a man of his time and his character, a man with a child -
It doesn't take him too long to chase the rest of it down with a quick assumption. He's never heard him mention a wife before now, and he can't imagine a marriage of Yujin's would end in divorce, so...
The majority of the impact is Stephen's disbelief at his own failure to ask before now. To have learned really anything about the man beyond the bones of the stories he already knows and the things he's actively volunteered: so little of his past, his pains.
He blinks, and now it's his turn to breach the gap. Instinct only takes him as far as two fingers stretching out, coming to rest on the table before ever reaching Yujin, not sure how much comfort is too much comfort when he hasn't technically been informed of tragedy.
Instead of touch, then, he offers - ]
We can make space for her. We're old enough.
[ The lightest humour to soften the subject, expression uncertain with concern. They both have more than enough years under their belts to make room for a previous marriage, if it's something Yujin would like to honor in their fiction. ]
[Briefly, Yujin's speechless. The thought of including his wife in their shared history hadn't occurred to him at all.]
I...
[Making space for her. For what? He was already excluding Susato from the situation. The entire cover story is just a fiction, after all, and for as practical as he says he is, he's already concerned that pushing for an arrangement with just the two of them is already a little selfish in itself. Like he's just making excuses to push for what he wants, at the expense of helping the group a little more.
He almost protests, but Yujin glances at Stephen's hand, then up at the man himself. Reversing his train of thought a couple of steps, Yujin returns to that "we" that they keep using; the consistency of it. Stephen freely offering something Yujin never even asked for.
Ayame and he had always taken care of each other. She'd be happy, he thinks, to know someone was still looking out for him now.
Yujin relaxes, relief and gratitude clear on his face.] Thank you. I think that would be nice.
Thus far... I married Ayame young. I became a widower, meeting you in medical school. We graduated, then married-- or the opposite, whichever you prefer. Your accident occurred, and you could no longer practice. Eventually, we decided to move to Amaryllis Grove to live a simpler life together.
[Easy. And also, quite romantic? The fiction of their entwined lives, the trials they faced and weathered together, creates a coherent whole that he can picture without any trouble at all.]
[ He sees something play across Yujin's face in the time it takes him to answer, and he knows that he was right to offer. It had been a risk. There was a chance that to voice it was to overstep, that to offer to thread Yujin's real loss into their imagined life would cross a line.
Instead she's woven into the fabric they're creating, and Stephen smiles into the gratitude, nods his understanding.
And there they have it. Their life for a couple of months, the foundations of the picture they'll paint for the people of Amaryllis Grove. And what a picture it is. Imperfect and tangible, so close to real truths that they're barely going to have to lie.
But there is something they've missed. A lie one or both of them will have to tell quite frequently, depending on the decision they make. Easing out of his own warm introspection with the beginnings of a by now familiar smirk already tucking into the corner of his mouth, Stephen voices it. ]
What we'll be called? [Yujin echoes: he hasn't yet grasped the question, so the confusion on his face is innocent. Until what Stephen's really asking comes into full view, of course.
He stops. Blinks, dumbfounded.] Ah. [Right. The question of family names. Everything else had been so much more pressing; he hadn't thought about names once.]
Well, one of us will have to take the other's name, correct?
[He imagines it'd work the same way as a man and woman marry. (Unfortunately, "Yujin Strange" doesn't quite roll off the tongue, nor can he say that giving up his name sits perfectly well with him. Old habits and mentalities of the land of his birth die hard, even centuries into the future.) Unless... can two men keep their own surnames when they wed?]
Or, er... we could keep our names, or invent a new one?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Yes.
[Sometimes, it's just a bit too sensitive for him to tamp down his first instincts before they're sent along. Yujin pinches the bridge of his nose, cursing the embarrassing speed of that answer, then waits another moment before he continues.]
Where should I meet you? Naruhodo is out for the moment, if you'd like to come here.
[Stephen hasn't said what this is about, but he can make an educated guess.]
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[ And he does them both favour of walking the distance from his own room to Yujin's rather than appearing to him in a circle of sparks or knocking at the door a split second after the invitation was made. It's a choice that only really buys them both maybe two minutes before Stephen's standing outside, but that's two more minutes than they might have had, and he certainly needed them. ]
Knock knock.
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Without further ado, the door to Ryunosuke and Yujin's shared room opens. As promised, only the older of the two greets Stephen today, expression carefully neutral as he mutters a greeting-- and a vague apology for the mess-- then steps aside to let him in and close the door after him.
Mess isn't quite accurate. Rather, the room, especially for default Ximilia-dwelling standard, looks well lived-in. Throughout the room are small mementos from missions and assorted piles of books and notes-- Yujin's side noticeably more straightened and off the floor than Ryunosuke's. There's a large traveling trunk with a cloth draped over it to create a makeshift table, around which are a pair of station-issue chairs.]
I take it, [says Yujin, taking a seat,] this is about the mission?
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But no. It doesn't matter - he's here now, and the answer is: ]
How did you know?
[ Still a joke, but one that owes up to their circumstances. Fresh from the glance around the room he'd taken to briefly avoid making eye contact, Stephen fixes Yujin with a slightly sheepish smirk and joins him at the table. ]
Interesting timing.
[ To reference the elephant in the room quickly and lightly before it looms too large. ]
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[Poking fun at the entire mess does make it feel lighter. Somewhat. Perhaps it'll make the actual decision easier to speak on. Finally daring to meet his eyes, Yujin ventures to offer Stephen his own hesitant smile.]
It would be a bit of a speedy engagement.
[Just two weeks from first kiss to marriage. Reminding himself of the absurdity helps a little, too.]
But what do you think, Stephen?
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But here they are. No use dodging it, they don't have that long to make their decisions. Yujin asks and Stephen takes in a breath, steeling himself, and ]
I think it makes sense. [ It. What it is that they're here to discuss. And instead of take this entirely seriously, which he knows he probably should, he swerves staring directly down the barrel again with a follow up: ] And I don't think there's anybody else I could reasonably inflict myself on.
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At any rate. I think you're right. We're close enough in age, we know that we get on well. [Very well? He pushes the very not-orb-related concerns aside; that's definitely not the point of this arrangement, so he'll save it.] And you did stay in our apartment a few missions ago, didn't you? Sharing a space wouldn't be an issue.
From the outside-- [Two men in our situation could have easily met and married, he almost says, before catching himself and hastily rephrasing.] it's convincing. I think we should do it.
[He lets that statement settle for a moment-- as if he, too, needs the convincing.]
The backstory might be simpler than we think, too, if we just change a few details of our real lives.
no subject
And thank god. It all sounds so practical framed like this. No need to make mention of the fact that he'd rather not have to sneak around on another world to spend time with Yujin in the context they've recently been enjoying, or to try to dodge making jokes about a marriage of convenience as he admits to wanting to take advantage of the chance to share space. Private space. A luxury they had for all of five minutes before the arrival of the recent intake.
This is a sensible arrangement. It makes sense. A nod of his head, resolute, shifting into game-face mode to cover any nervous cracks. ]
Two medical professionals meet in the city. —Students? [ How long do they want to have been married for? How old of a marriage would be the simplest to perform? ] Anyway. If we keep the accident it'd explain why we moved to the Grove.
[ It doesn't even occur to him in this realm of near-infinite possibility to try to pass himself off as a life-long small town kind of guy: he isn't. But a forced retirement and the quiet return to a gentler life? That he thinks would suit the pair of them quite well.
... in this completely fabricated scenario.
Never mind that he says 'the accident' like Yujin has any real context for it. It's somehow easy to forget that they managed to become close without learning all that much about the lives that brought them here. ]
no subject
Back to business. Yujin rubs his chin, brow knitted thoughtfully. How long does it take to become a doctor, these days? It must be different from what he remembers in the Japan of his youth. He'd already been practicing by his mid-twenties, so if they'd been students, that would mean...]
Or early in our careers.
[He shrugs a shoulder, noncommittal, but a shiver creeps down his spine at the consideration of time. Whichever they choose, this false marriage will have lasted years longer than his real one.
A moment later, a second realization strikes him: the accident. The facts of Stephen's hands might not have been apparent to anyone but him: both a doctor and a man who's cared to pay close attention to them. Occasionally, they tremble; when he thinks no one is looking, he'll stretch his fingers, relieving some unseen tension.]
Oh. [Yujin breathes, reaching that belated conclusion. From medicine to mysticism. So the first step Stephen made towards magic hadn't been a willing one, then. It feels like something he should have already known, but despite their current closeness... they really don't know very much about each other, do they? His hand falls back into his lap, expression now entirely sober.]
I don't think you ever told me about it. What happened?
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Oh.
There's a breath in, surprised. Either it hadn't occurred to him that Yujin hadn't known, or he's startled by his own assumption that somewhere along the way he must've told him. What he's not is immediately uncomfortable, and that is a surprise in itself.
The moment breaks with a raise of brows, shaking off his oversight with the huffed release of that breath, and with it any tension. This all happened a lifetime ago. In history, it feels so distant. In lived reality, it's always only yesterday. Always right this second.
That averages out at long enough ago that it doesn't hurt to recount. ]
My car went off a cliff road. [ Quick, easy as that. And it had been, in a sense. There one second, gone the next. ] I was on my way to a neurological society dinner, my assistant called through with some prospective patients, one sounded promising [ the slightest little wince at that - 'promising', as in worth his time, as in meaningful professionally ] so I asked him to send me the scans. They warn you about texting while driving but they never explicitly tell you not to look at cranial x-rays while overtaking another vehicle on a winding road at night. Which I think is a little remiss.
[ There's a small smirk here, rich with enough humour around the eyes to let Yujin in on the joke. Some of the context might be outside of his experience, technology here and at home sitting far on either side of the phone screen that Stephen hadn't been able to keep his eyes off that night, but the point is less the details and more the fact that he knows it was his own fault.
Shouldn't take a rocket scientist or a neurosurgeon to figure out it's a bad idea to take your eyes off the road in the best of circumstances, but here he is with his consequences all the same. There's nobody to blame but himself, and most days he's past the point of even doing that. ]
About eight years ago now, closer to four in lived experience. [ ... maybe that's actually opening a bigger can of worms than they need to get into for the minute. ] Which is a longer story, and not all that relevant to the task at hand. I'll tell you at the breakfast table sometime.
[ Since it looks like they're going to be sharing one for a not inconsiderable amount of time very soon. ]
no subject
Yujin cannot possibly count the space of these years. He can't see the future, after all. But he can almost grasp their shape as he assembles the pieces of the story in his mind. That's what really matters here. Stephen was distracted, lost control of his car, and went over the cliff road, taking his medical career with him.
Even if it had been his fault, even if the telling is no longer an open wound, the thought of this accident is chilling for a friend to hear for the first time. It's a miracle Stephen's alive at all, Yujin thinks, eight (or four?) years down a path he'd only have found in the midst of that tragedy and pain.
Before Yujin can stop himself, he reaches a hand out to rest atop Stephen's. Damaged, but still whole; still here. The empathy in his face is earnest.]
I hope it doesn't sound trite, but... I'm truly sorry.
[For what little good it'll do so long after the accident. He gives Stephen's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. And then, pulling away awkwardly, Yujin remembers: they're "keeping" the accident.]
So, when you stopped practicing, we left the city to settle down somewhere quieter. [A beat.] It'll just be the two of us around that table, then? [Skeptically:] No adoptions or previous children?
no subject
The world has gained much more than it lost from his accident, and for partly that reason he's never undone what he could have had he chosen to. But Stephen's gained things too. Here's a friend he might never have met. Empathy he might never have received.
It's a moment that doesn't need lingering on here and now. Brief if momentous, he files it away as Yujin withdraws. A new shelf of better-day boxes: Wong and the Masters and America Chavez; the crew of the Ximilia, Ciri and Jake the Dog and— Yujin Mikotoba.
And oh, that return to topic - isn't this a fun way to finally do the very most basic of getting to know yous? ]
Not on my end.
[ Easy. There's no story there, it's just never happened, so he doesn't have anything to offer their joint history. Instead of asking the question, Stephen watches Yujin, brows raised in silent if meaningful counter-query. ]
no subject
Yujin's smile wanes as the moment passes. He settles back into his own seat, contemplating the whole arrangement. Children will add an additional layer of stories to invent and relationships to corroborate.
Then, it hits him. Previous children?]
No, never mind. [Why did he say that?] We met in medical school. Of course there wouldn't have been previous children. My first marriage would have been...
[Yujin breaks off. There it is: the remnants of his own scar tissue, long healed over yet marking him still.]
I'm sorry. [He massages a temple.] I was married once. The mother of my daughter. Without thinking, I was including her in the cover story.
no subject
It doesn't take him too long to chase the rest of it down with a quick assumption. He's never heard him mention a wife before now, and he can't imagine a marriage of Yujin's would end in divorce, so...
The majority of the impact is Stephen's disbelief at his own failure to ask before now. To have learned really anything about the man beyond the bones of the stories he already knows and the things he's actively volunteered: so little of his past, his pains.
He blinks, and now it's his turn to breach the gap. Instinct only takes him as far as two fingers stretching out, coming to rest on the table before ever reaching Yujin, not sure how much comfort is too much comfort when he hasn't technically been informed of tragedy.
Instead of touch, then, he offers - ]
We can make space for her. We're old enough.
[ The lightest humour to soften the subject, expression uncertain with concern. They both have more than enough years under their belts to make room for a previous marriage, if it's something Yujin would like to honor in their fiction. ]
no subject
I...
[Making space for her. For what? He was already excluding Susato from the situation. The entire cover story is just a fiction, after all, and for as practical as he says he is, he's already concerned that pushing for an arrangement with just the two of them is already a little selfish in itself. Like he's just making excuses to push for what he wants, at the expense of helping the group a little more.
He almost protests, but Yujin glances at Stephen's hand, then up at the man himself. Reversing his train of thought a couple of steps, Yujin returns to that "we" that they keep using; the consistency of it. Stephen freely offering something Yujin never even asked for.
Ayame and he had always taken care of each other. She'd be happy, he thinks, to know someone was still looking out for him now.
Yujin relaxes, relief and gratitude clear on his face.] Thank you. I think that would be nice.
Thus far... I married Ayame young. I became a widower, meeting you in medical school. We graduated, then married-- or the opposite, whichever you prefer. Your accident occurred, and you could no longer practice. Eventually, we decided to move to Amaryllis Grove to live a simpler life together.
[Easy. And also, quite romantic? The fiction of their entwined lives, the trials they faced and weathered together, creates a coherent whole that he can picture without any trouble at all.]
Is there anything we've missed?
no subject
Instead she's woven into the fabric they're creating, and Stephen smiles into the gratitude, nods his understanding.
And there they have it. Their life for a couple of months, the foundations of the picture they'll paint for the people of Amaryllis Grove. And what a picture it is. Imperfect and tangible, so close to real truths that they're barely going to have to lie.
But there is something they've missed. A lie one or both of them will have to tell quite frequently, depending on the decision they make. Easing out of his own warm introspection with the beginnings of a by now familiar smirk already tucking into the corner of his mouth, Stephen voices it. ]
What'll we be called?
no subject
He stops. Blinks, dumbfounded.] Ah. [Right. The question of family names. Everything else had been so much more pressing; he hadn't thought about names once.]
Well, one of us will have to take the other's name, correct?
[He imagines it'd work the same way as a man and woman marry. (Unfortunately, "Yujin Strange" doesn't quite roll off the tongue, nor can he say that giving up his name sits perfectly well with him. Old habits and mentalities of the land of his birth die hard, even centuries into the future.) Unless... can two men keep their own surnames when they wed?]
Or, er... we could keep our names, or invent a new one?