[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}
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?