Tree House [La Corda d'Oro, Ryoutarou/Len & their sons]
Len regarded the death trap that loomed before him: the tree house that Ryoutarou had spent two months building. Len had watched him with mostly disinterest for several weeks as he lugged home wood from who-knows-where, as he valiantly refused help from Butler and Maid and Cook, as he waved goodnight to the kids with a hammer in his hand and nails in his mouth.
There was no way in hell he was getting into that thing.
Their two boys stood on either side of him, gazing up at the tree house with their mouths open in awe and wonderment.
“It’s beautiful,” Taro breathed.
“It’s amazing,” Ren gasped.
“It’s perfect,” they sighed.
Ryoutarou puffed his chest out proudly and Len, ever the dutiful spouse, rolled his eyes and said, “You’re all nuts.”
They ignored him-the fools-and exchanged matching grins of excitement.
“Ready?” Ryoutarou asked.
“I’ve got the flashlight!” Taro lifted it like a victory torch.
“I’ve got the marshmallows!” Ren waved the bag in the air like a flag.
After a moment, when Len said nothing, they all looked at him expectantly.
“I’m not going up there.”
Ryoutarou shrugged, like his feelings weren’t hurt, which Len was used to and thus, was unfazed by.
But then they made their move. The children. Taro with his big, hopeful eyes. And Ren, his own, the littlest, with his big, hopeful pout.
A conspiracy.
“…Fine.” And as the kids cheered and started for the ladder, he leaned close and hissed into his lover’s ear, “But if that thing breaks and I die, I’m suing you for all you’re worth.”
Ryoutarou just smiled and whispered in return, “Ah, but thankfully, you always said I wasn’t worth much.” He winked and took Len’s hand, pulling him along as he followed their children.
“So…what are we supposed to do now that we’re up here?” Len hoped he sounded more disinterested than he did inquisitive. But he was oddly curious; he’d never been in a tree house before.
“We tell ghost stories,” Taro said, flicking the flashlight on and off.
“And eat marshmallows!” Ren said, settling, uninvited, into his lap; Len was pretty darn sure that marshmallows were a camping tradition, but obviously the boy had some kind of marshmallow affinity, and who was he to spoil his fun?
“And once the kids get tired,” Ryoutarou said with a smirk, “we send them back inside and rock the casbah.”
Len shot him a look, but the kids didn’t question the comment, so he left it at that.
“I’ll start us off,” Taro said, clearing his throat and holding the flashlight underneath his face. “There once was a lighthouse keeper who lived on an island with his children. They were all alone there…”
“…After his death, people started seeing the light of a green lantern moving along the beaches just before a storm. Some said it was the spirit of the dead lighthouse keeper continuing his search. Others claimed that the phantom lighthouse keeper was still on duty, using his lantern to guide ships to safety so their crews would not share the fate of his poor little children.”
If Len hadn’t been busy marveling at how much Ren looked like a chipmunk with his mouth stuffed with marshmallows, he might’ve been more affected by the story.
What did get his attention was the way the flashlight went out while simultaneously a crash sounded and his two kids and husband screamed.
In the bit of silence that followed, Len, “I think the ladder just fell off.”
And the tree house was filled with hysterical laughter.
He sighed. “This won’t be as funny when we run out of marshmallows.”
They just laughed harder.
He was surrounded by fools.
But they were his fools. So it was all right.
There was no way in hell he was getting into that thing.
Their two boys stood on either side of him, gazing up at the tree house with their mouths open in awe and wonderment.
“It’s beautiful,” Taro breathed.
“It’s amazing,” Ren gasped.
“It’s perfect,” they sighed.
Ryoutarou puffed his chest out proudly and Len, ever the dutiful spouse, rolled his eyes and said, “You’re all nuts.”
They ignored him-the fools-and exchanged matching grins of excitement.
“Ready?” Ryoutarou asked.
“I’ve got the flashlight!” Taro lifted it like a victory torch.
“I’ve got the marshmallows!” Ren waved the bag in the air like a flag.
After a moment, when Len said nothing, they all looked at him expectantly.
“I’m not going up there.”
Ryoutarou shrugged, like his feelings weren’t hurt, which Len was used to and thus, was unfazed by.
But then they made their move. The children. Taro with his big, hopeful eyes. And Ren, his own, the littlest, with his big, hopeful pout.
A conspiracy.
“…Fine.” And as the kids cheered and started for the ladder, he leaned close and hissed into his lover’s ear, “But if that thing breaks and I die, I’m suing you for all you’re worth.”
Ryoutarou just smiled and whispered in return, “Ah, but thankfully, you always said I wasn’t worth much.” He winked and took Len’s hand, pulling him along as he followed their children.
“So…what are we supposed to do now that we’re up here?” Len hoped he sounded more disinterested than he did inquisitive. But he was oddly curious; he’d never been in a tree house before.
“We tell ghost stories,” Taro said, flicking the flashlight on and off.
“And eat marshmallows!” Ren said, settling, uninvited, into his lap; Len was pretty darn sure that marshmallows were a camping tradition, but obviously the boy had some kind of marshmallow affinity, and who was he to spoil his fun?
“And once the kids get tired,” Ryoutarou said with a smirk, “we send them back inside and rock the casbah.”
Len shot him a look, but the kids didn’t question the comment, so he left it at that.
“I’ll start us off,” Taro said, clearing his throat and holding the flashlight underneath his face. “There once was a lighthouse keeper who lived on an island with his children. They were all alone there…”
“…After his death, people started seeing the light of a green lantern moving along the beaches just before a storm. Some said it was the spirit of the dead lighthouse keeper continuing his search. Others claimed that the phantom lighthouse keeper was still on duty, using his lantern to guide ships to safety so their crews would not share the fate of his poor little children.”
If Len hadn’t been busy marveling at how much Ren looked like a chipmunk with his mouth stuffed with marshmallows, he might’ve been more affected by the story.
What did get his attention was the way the flashlight went out while simultaneously a crash sounded and his two kids and husband screamed.
In the bit of silence that followed, Len, “I think the ladder just fell off.”
And the tree house was filled with hysterical laughter.
He sighed. “This won’t be as funny when we run out of marshmallows.”
They just laughed harder.
He was surrounded by fools.
But they were his fools. So it was all right.