Diary of a Young Prince_Part 2
Diary of A Young Prince
Chapter: 2/4 (oneshot in four parts)
Pairing: Tora x Saga x Oc (mainly, but there are others)
Genre: POV, slice-of-life
Warnings: Polyamory, male x male, adult themes, foul language
Summary: The life of a young man and his highly unorthodox family.
Comments: Here is part 2! Enjoy!
***
Another memory. And this one is still sharp and vivid and alive in my mind. One of the sharpest from my childhood.
Its a month and a half after my fourth birthday.
My father and Saga have been on tour for a week, but they are coming back today, and my mom is excited. Its the beginning of June, sticky warmth again, and I sigh, relieved when we enter the air-conditioned grocery store. I see her buy everything to make tempura-soba, my dad's summer favourite. Its way too hot for curry.
She buys me ice cream on our way back home. She looks so happy. Not that she looked unhappy before, but there is this joy radiating from her.
She's been smiling ever since the day before, when she left me with the babysitter for the afternoon to go to an appointment. She came back with a wide smile on her face, radiating happiness and urgency and excitement.
I help her peel sweet potatoes, stir the batter for the cake, but I don't ask any questions.
Saga comes home first, tossing his luggage in the hallway with an exhausted look on his face. It doesn't stop him from picking me up in his arms when I come running, and it ends in a tickle fest on the hallway floor. I go back to stirring cake batter, eating as much as I can while my mother's back is turned.
He holds my mother in his arms for a long time, kisses her forehead. She sits him down at the table, brings him a beer, buries her fingers in his soft tawny hair. She leans over and whispers something in his ear, too low for me to pick up, and he almost drops his beer. He turns to her, wide eyed.
"Are you sure? I mean…100% sure?"
My mother nods with a little smile. Its the first time I see Saga kiss my mother, one of the few times.
My father gets home a little later, he kisses my mother, endlessly, picks me up like a potato sack and we wrestle on the couch. He asks me about my week until we get called for dinner. He looks puzzled at how happy my mother and Saga are, exchanging excited glances throughout dinner. We eat tempura-soba, and then roll cake, and my mother sets me up in front of a movie in the living room while they talk in the dining room in hushed voices. My dad stands up, starts piling dishes, but my mother stops him, gets up too.
She grasps his hands, entwines their fingers, and he looks puzzled. She says something, quietly, I can't hear it I'm too far. But my father gets rigid as a board as he starts falling back, and both my mother and Saga catch him before he hits anything, as if they'd expected it. They look at each other and burst out laughing, my father sprawled on the floor between Saga's thighs, my mom fanning him with a placemat. They laugh until my father gets back to his senses, and then all I see is my mom getting dragged down on top of my dad, their legs entangling, and more laughter. From all three of them this time.
I hear them through the bedroom wall that night, though I'm too young to realize what I'm hearing. Very faintly. A soft thudding against the wall, hushed moans, heavy breaths, sighs. A few minutes of quiet, and then my father's low voice, murmuring endearments.
The next day, I come down to the kitchen and my parents are making pancakes. Or attempting to I should say, because my dad is hugging my mom from behind, both arms tight around her waist, and he's kissing her neck, biting her earlobe as she laughs, half-trying to fend him off with a spatula, while Saga snorts with laughter. He spots me in the doorway, all sleepy, and puts down his coffee.
He comes to pick me up in his arms, and I cling to him, because his bare skin is warm and soft and smells like his cologne, which I love. He kisses my forehead to wish me good morning, as he always does, brings me over to my laughing parents. My dad lets go of my mom and he picks me up form Saga's arms, hugs me tight, his hair is tickling my nose. We feed each other, and Saga, pieces of fruit while my mother finishes breakfast, a soft smile on her lips.
After breakfast, we all go sit on the big couch, and my dad sits me sideways in his lap, like he always does when he wants to tell me important things. So I stay still and listen. My mom sits beside us, Saga curls up against her, she caresses his hair.
"Remember last month? When you asked me how you were born?"
I nod, remembering.
"Okay. Well a few weeks ago, mommy and daddy got really close…"
Both Saga and my mother chuckle at that, and Saga's arm slides around her narrow shoulders.
"And, well, two days ago, mommy found out that I'd planted a little seed in her belly again."
My father's free hand settles on my mother's stomach, caressing her tenderly in slow circles.
"So right now, there's a baby slowly growing in mommy's belly. A little sister, or little brother for you."
I'm baffled. I reach down and pull at my mother's tee, flatten my hands on her warm stomach and she giggles.
"Really? But…it must be tiny, I can't feel anything."
My mother chuckles.
"Its really, really tiny. Smaller than a grain of rice, but its growing, every day."
Once again, I'm baffled. My mother's skin is so very soft and warm, and Saga's hand covers mine.
"So small…Daddy and Saga will protect you, right? Something that small has to be protected…I'll protect you too mommy."
My mother bursts into tears and she hugs me tight. That's when I learn you can cry from happiness.
***
My mother is four months pregnant.
She started staying at my father's house overnight a few weeks ago, just to ease him. He feels guilty that he wasn't very much around when she was pregnant with me, and he wants to redeem himself this time, no matter how much my mother protests that she's fine. So Saga and my father are at my mother's beck and call. Hungry? They step over their own feet getting her favourite food. Chocolate craving? my father brings back 12 different bars and chocolate cake, just to be sure. A slight Braxton-Hicks contraction? My father and Saga are in a panic over packing her suitcase for the hospital and/or debating if they should call the ambulance or drive themselves. While my mom wheezes with laughter of course.
She's deliriously happy and radiant most days, but today started badly.
She slept poorly, woke up nauseous, her back aches. Not a good day.
Saga and my father were away overnight, and usually it's dad driving me to pre-school, but since he's away, she has to get up. And like Saga, my mom is not a morning person. So she picks out my clothes, helps me into them, fixes some breakfast, eyes her own yogurt looking a little green. She drives me with a sour look on her face, probably because she's not allowed coffee and my mom in the morning without coffee is not exactly a happy thing. I hug her until the bell rings, and I feel a little pride swelling in my chest when I manage to make her smile.
Saga picks me up in the afternoon, and when we get home my mother is angry. She's raging about everything from the dishwasher that leaves streaks on the plates, to how the bed is too stiff for her back, to the fact that my dad has completely forgotten to buy milk on his way home. And my dad is just there, looking like a deer in headlights as she is spewing her rage like a madwoman, pacing the living room like a caged animal. And then she stops, takes a deep breath, and just bursts into tears.
I can tell that my father is trying not to laugh when he gathers her in his arms and she just buries her face in his chest, crying harder.
"I'm so-sorry…I d-didn't…didn't mean to yell at you…" She mumbles in his shirt.
And my father's mouth is quirking as he's rubbing her back and shoulders soothingly.
"Its okay baby, s'okay, you're clearly tired. You had a rough day, my love? The hormones are messing with your mood?"
She nods, squeaking a weak "yes" against his chest.
"Wanna go cuddle in bed with me? We could take a little nap together…"
She nods again, sniffling, childlike, and my father picks her up in his arms, and she wraps her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. He winks at us as he carries her upstairs to the bedroom. Saga looks down at me and pats my hair with a sigh, starts removing his shoes with a smirk.
"Well, looks like were having pizza tonight…"
***
She's six months pregnant.
She started showing a month and a half ago, her stomach rounded, and she constantly whines that she can't zip up her jeans anymore. My father is even more protective of her if that's even possible. He reminds her to eat, drink enough water, drags her to bed for naps, gives her back massages. They spend hours cuddling on the couch, watching movies, and my father is caressing her rounded belly, softly, lovingly. He spends what seems like hours with his ear pressed against the smooth expanse of her stomach, listening to the baby's heart, eyes closed, my mother's fingers combing through his hair. I've never seen him this affectionate with her, its like he's making up for lost time, eyes glowing, hands and mouth tender.
Saga's attitude has changed too. He's more affectionate with my mother too. Not that he wasn't in the first place, he's an affectionate man to start with, but I notice how casual and spontaneous his affection becomes. Brushing strands out of her eyes with soft fingers, his hand splaying on her lower back when we go out for a walk, the way he wraps his arms around her from behind, unbidden, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. He sticks his headphones to my mother's stomach, laughing, insisting that they have to start the baby's musical education right away. He whispers lullabies against her skin.
I feel a little jealous.
Its early winter and I'm playing on the living room carpet with my legos. My father is in the kitchen fixing dinner. Mom and Saga are on the couch, getting excited over colour swatches for the baby's nursery. They decided not to find out the gender of the baby, like they had for me, and they're hesitating between green and yellow, comparing those little strips of paint samples. And then I feel that worry deep in my chest, and it weighs so heavily on my heart, I have to voice it.
"Mom?"
She looks up, smiling softly.
"Yes baby?"
"When the baby comes, are you still going to love me?"
They look startled, like they hadn't considered that I might feel a little left out. Saga puts his arms out for me.
"Come here baby."
He picks me up easily, settles me in his lap, and his arms are around me, so soft and warm.
"Of course we'll still love you baby. There's only gonna be one more baby to love, but we're gonna love you just as much."
I nod, unconvinced. He gently coaxes my hands on my mother's stomach.
"That baby inside mommy, its really small, and fragile, and its gonna need a lot of our attention. In the first few months, we're gonna take care of the baby a lot, but its not because we care for the baby that we don't love you. You understand?"
"Yeah…I'm just worried that you're gonna forget about me."
My mom covers my little hands with hers.
"You were my first, baby. You will always be my first, and I'll always love you."
The next day is Sichi-Go-San, and even though I'm not five yet, we take a family outing to the local temple, see all the children in pretty kimono and hakama. Next year it will be my turn, but even then, we get blessings from the priest, light incense sticks, for my good fortune and for the baby to come. And then we go shopping, and my father buys me my first video-game, the one I've been begging to have. We finish the day at the movies, and my parents let me eat all the candy I want, and I feel like the luckiest kid ever.
***
Christmas and new year's eve has come and gone.
It's uncle Shou's wedding ceremony, and I feel rather dashing in my suit.
My mother is halfway through her eighth month of pregnancy and her belly is round and firm as a basketball. It doesn't stop her from wearing a long, tight, boat-neck black dress with long sleeves, and very high heels, her hair pulled up in an elegant bun. She looks radiant, even I can see it, and it made me laugh to see my dad gaping like a fish out of water when she came down from the bedroom.
"She looks beautiful, doesn't she?" Saga asks my dad, pretty proud of himself for picking the outfit and fixing her hair.
My father is speechless, looking at my mother with hungry eyes. She blushes when my father reaches over for her hand, kissing her knuckles, and Saga laughs, bright and clear.
The ceremony is boring and too long, but the reception is the best. Lots of cake, music, and Shou's nephews and nieces are all close to my age and I make tons of friends. I notice a few things though, absentmindedly, with my child's eye, that just come back to me later in life, suddenly heavy with meaning.
Uncle Shou's smile looks rehearsed. I know what he looks like when he's happy, and this entire wedding is clearly not making him happy, but he hides it with a veneer of wide smiles and uneasy jokes.
His wife looks sick. She's a pretty girl, short and slim with pale blonde hair, girly, younger than he is by a few years. But that day she's pale and drawn, the pink lilies in her hair washing out her pale face. There's a baby inside her, she's six weeks along, but no one knows yet. Later we find out its the reason they got married.
Uncle Hiroto looks sad. I've never seen him like this. Every time his eyes stray towards Shou, he looks like he's about to cry and his efforts at keeping it all in are paining him. His girlfriend is aloof, and serious. Its the first time I see her, they've been dating a few months and I don't know what to think of her. If Hiroto is the sun, then she's the moon, dark and pale and gloomy in her navy dress. I only see him laugh when I pretend to dance with Mogu, who's having the time of his doggie life, running free with all of us kids.
Uncle Nao is the only genuinely happy one, along with my parents.
A very beautiful young man came with him to the wedding. He's tall and slender as a birch, with longish, wavy black hair and doe eyes, long lashes. His skin is milk pale and perfect, he's elegant in his dark suit, his laughter is deep and honest and pleasing to hear. He's a photographer, and his hands are expressive and beautiful, they talk as much as he does. He caresses Nao's lower back, underneath the hem of his jacket, as he talks, their sides touching, and they look very much in love.
My father drank too much champagne, and he's flushed and happy, pulling Saga in his lap when the lights dim and everyone dances. He's kissing his neck and the angle of his jaw, and Saga smirks, his hand cupping my father's nape. My mother is holding me hitched against her hip, my head lolling against her shoulder, and I'm exhausted, forcing my eyes to stay open. She's talking with Hiroto's girlfriend, and a few other women, Shou's cousins and relatives of his wife. They are bombarding her with questions.
"I don't really understand how your relationship works. I mean, you're Tora's ex-wife but you two are still together?"
My mother nods.
"We initially built up our relationship on unsteady foundations. It all went too fast. We'd been childhood friends, and when he moved out to Tokyo, it took a very long time for us to meet again, completely randomly. We started talking again and less than two months later we were dating already. We got married to please his parents, way too early, before we even managed to fix our issues, and it just made everything worse. We skipped a lot of steps and it ended up damaging our marriage in the long run."
"And then you guys divorced?"
"We divorced when Isamu was one, almost four years ago, and he started dating Saga maybe three and a half years ago."
"That's where I get confused, you two then got back together despite him dating Saga?"
My mother sighs. Its too low for the others to hear, but I can.
"How can I explain this? We divorced knowing that we still loved each other, that our issue was simply not having the proper tools to make it work as a couple, and that Tora, no matter how much he loved me, had feelings for Saga he couldn't just repress. But it didn't change the fact that we still loved each other. We took our distances, worked out our personal issues, saw each other without having that extra pressure that marriage entailed, and it gave us a chance to rekindle our romance, progressively. When the house next to mine went for sale, we had a discussion about Tora purchasing it and I agreed, considering that it would also make it easier for us to care for Isamu. Things slowly worked from there, until we realized that maybe we could have a more intimate relationship again, with healthy boundaries."
"And where does Saga fit in all of this? I mean, doesn't it bother you?"
My mother chuckles then. Explaining a polyamorous relationship to a crowd of conservative, heterosexual women isn't the easiest feat, but she perseveres.
"Tora needs Saga. We both need him. Tora and I, we have volatile temperaments, we don't always communicate our feelings readily, although we have improved our communication skills in the past few years, but there are times when we just don't see eye to eye on things. Saga is our referee, he grounds us both, gives us steady foundations to work on. Tora and I would've never rebuilt our relationship like we did had he not been there supporting us both every step of the way, I couldn't imagine our relationship without him. We love and respect each other dearly, its not like we are competing for Tora's affection at all. Besides, he's just as much a father to Isamu as Tora is, he's been there every step of the way, and he will be for our child to be as well."
"It sounds complicated…"
My mother chuckles again, her hand is softly caressing up and down my back, and I feel the baby kick against my knee.
"It really isn't. Love is love. It works for us."
I don't remember the rest of the night clearly. Only in flashes of sensation and sound: my mother's laughter, curling up on a couch with Mogu in my arms, the both of us too exhausted to play, Saga helping me into my coat with gentle hands, the safety of my father's arms carrying me to the car through the cool night air. And then leaning against him in the backseat, the two of us drifting to sleep while mom drives, Saga chatting with her in the passenger seat with his soft, hushed voice.
***
And head on to part 3... http://aleksiina-26.livejournal.com/15774.html