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Last night had been another sleepless night. Even as a child, Kazuma had been plagued by thoughts like will Father ever come back. Sometimes, being held by his mother could ease him to sleep. Other times, nothing could.
Of course, both Mikotoba and Susato knew. They kept their comments to themselves, unlike Ryuunosuke, who spoke whatever was on his mind without any fear of consequences. Kazuma had feared keeping his insomnia a secret from Ryuunosuke on the Burya would be impossible, but it hadn't turned out like that at all.
It began at dinner. Ryuunosuke would save a few grains of rice to make glue, gazing at them with a dreamy greed. So, Kazuma would distract him from hunger with only items he had; his law text books. Ryuunosuke would put up with it for a couple of hours before yawning loudly, his hand barely covering his mouth.
Kazuma would change into his nightclothes while Ryuunosuke got ready for bed in the bathroom. Ryuunosuke didn't change his, allegedly because there was no space in the luggage, but Kazuma knew Ryuunosuke was bad at packing clothes. When he came out, he would sit on the plush olive desk chair and Kazuma would sit on the bed.
A few more minutes of conversation would pass. Then, Ryuunosuke would rub his eyes, stand, and to pull the brass handles of the wardrobe door open. He'd nestle himself in the few articles of clothing they had managed to bring. Then, Ryuunosuke would shut himself in, saying goodnight with a fading voice.
Finally, Kazuma would glue the "Keep Out" sign to the wardrobe doors, a silent promise to watch over him. Anyone else trying to sleep in a wardrobe might have tossed and turned due to claustrophobia, or the darkness, or the hardness of all the wood. Or maybe the worries of being caught would hound their minds.
But not Ryuunosuke. The ritual banished his worries, and Kazuma would stay at the door, listening for Ryuunosuke's breath to even out. It never took longer than ten minutes. Something about Ryuunosuke's willingness to sleep with only Kazuma's ritual protecting him soothed Kazuma, and for the first time he could remember, it was easy to fall asleep.
That was why Kazuma took up the habit of using the remote cinemograph doll right after lunch. At one in the afternoon in London, it was ten in the evening in Tokyo. Most days, Kazuma could only speak with Ryuunosuke for a few short minutes before he had to return to work.
So the best days were Saturdays. They could talk for an hour, and sometimes it was two hours if Ryuunosuke was excited about an investigation, or a new play, or whatever had caught his interest that week.
And Kazuma had been yearning for this Saturday to come all week. Work had been so busy he missed using the doll, and he had hardly slept. With so much investigating in the cold London winter, the stuffy nose and painful throat were the inevitable consequence. The symptoms had kept Kazuma up all of last night, and he knew he'd have to spend the weekend isolated in the attic of 221B.
The fatigue from his illness drained Kazuma's will to move. His limbs were heavy as he wrapped himself up in a woolen blanket, and pulled the mouse doll from its place on the shelf. He did his best to keep Waggy out of the attic, both for the health of Ryuunosuke's aquarium and to keep Waggy from batting the doll. The drafts from the eaves and every corner drove him right to the wood stove. The tatami mat, still green and new, smelled of Japan. Kazuma activated the doll with a few scritches to its forehead and neck.
Dread gripped Kazuma. After being neglected for a whole week, Ryuunosuke would be well justified to spend his time elsewhere. But, after a few moments, Ryuunosuke's form flickered into view. Some of his normally spiky hair was wet and floppy, and his cheeks were red with cold. He was already dressed for bed with some western style pajamas.
"Goodness, the bags under your eyes are big enough to hide a whole person," Ryuunosuke remarked cheerfully, without any of the malice that should accompany such a remark. "Was it Mr. Sholmes or Lord van Zieks?"
Kazuma drew a breath to insult Ryuunosuke back, even though he knew Ryuunosuke hadn't intended to be rude. The problem was his throat. The mere act of starting to speak had set off a series of painful coughs.
"You're sick," Ryuunosuke said, bluntly and with sharp concern. "Do you want to rest instead?"
All Kazuma could do was shake his head. Ryuunosuke frowned with concern, and even tried to press his hand to Kazuma's forehead. It didn't work, of course. The remote cinemograph was a wonder of technology, but it was a thin substitute for the actual presence and warmth of a person.
Ryuunosuke sighed fondly. The pout in his lips telegraphed his resignation. He was only indulging Kazuma in chatting because he knew Kazuma wouldn't rest, but he didn't want to argue about it while Kazuma was sick. "If you want, I'll do all the talking," he offered.
Kazuma nodded, and that was all the permission Ryuunosuke needed to happily monopolize the conversation.
"I've had conversations like this before. When I was in London, after Susato-san returned to Japan, I would talk with you. Well, I talked with Karuma, really. I missed you. I'm sure Iris and Mr. Sholmes overheard me mumbling sometimes, but they understood. Mr. Sholmes was always writing letters, and Iris would type up a storm and then burn the pages in the fireplace."
Even if Kazuma could speak, what could he say? It warmed him that Ryuunosuke had still wanted to hear from him, even when he was separated by both the distance of oceans and memory. It also hurt. Kazuma knew what it was to long to hear from someone too far gone to ever be heard from again, and he hated that even if he had remembered who he was at the time, he still would have been too far away to listen.
Ryuunosuke stopped, and drew his blanket around him. Even now, Kazuma could see the heartache had stolen Ryuunosuke's words and maybe even banished his fatigue. There was no sign of sleepiness yet -- no rubbing his eyes, or yawning, or lying down in his futon.
"It snowed a lot today!" Ryuunosuke said, determined to keep his monologue going. "Have you been to Briar Road? It's by the Garrideb house. When I was in London, there was a snowman there, so we decided to build a snowman today. It was slow going at first, with just me and Susato-san, but then her friend came by. Then Soseki-san dropped by too."
Where was Briar Road? Kazuma had explored more of London since he started his study abroad trip, but he hadn't heard of it or the Garrideb house. Walking there might be interesting, and there might even be another snowman there. It wouldn't be the same one, but at least he's hearing about today's. These little dolls were truly amazing.
"Membami-san pointed out our snowman was underdressed, and Susato-san gave me this pitying look. The one that says Ryuunosuke, you're making a dumb fashion mistake like that top hat. In short, my scarf had a hole and was worn down, so they said it was better on the snowman and I should buy a new one."
"I regret giving in now. That scarf was warm. You gave it to me, do you remember?" Ryuunosuke said, pausing. He was genuinely curious.
A few heartbeats passed before Kazuma remembered.
It had only been two weeks earlier when Ryuunosuke had roundly beat Kazuma in that speech contest. Kazuma, and a few other shivering students were waiting outside in the cold, hoping for the professors to post their mid-term exam results.
The puff of breath, visible in the chill air, coming out of Ryuunosuke's mouth had fascinated Kazuma. At the time, he pretended the only interest was in the contrast of Ryuunosuke's sniffles to the swirl of vapor. Looking back, Kazuma had been studying his chapped lips and the goosebumps all over his bare neck.
"You'll catch a cold," Kazuma had chided.
Ryuunosuke crossed his arms, puffing his chest out. "I'm immune to colds, Asougi-san," he said, shaking in the frigid air.
Kazuma had taken off his own scarf and thrown it at him. Ryuunosuke caught it, his face wide in shock.
"Just wear it! Your shivering is distracting me," Kazuma had growled. It was only the truth, but Ryuunosuke's cheeks had turned red with more than the cold alone.
When Ryuunosuke had come to school the next day, he wore his own scarf. It was blue with white stripes, similar to Kazuma's dark maroon with white stripes. He had brought Kazuma's scarf back, properly pressed and folded, along with a proper set of thanks on his lips.
Kazuma hadn't wanted any of that formality. He wanted to feel the warmth of Ryuunosuke's neck and the pulse underneath his skin.
"I want your scarf," Kazuma had blurted out, embarrassed at his own honesty.
Ryuunosuke grinned, and gave Kazuma his blue scarf, keeping the maroon one for himself.
Kazuma still had the blue one. It was right downstairs with his winter coat. If it didn't risk getting Miss Wilson and Mr. Sholmes sick, he would climb all those stairs to wear it right now.
"First thing tomorrow morning, I'm taking it back. I know the scarf is old, but it's warm, and I'm going to mend it," Ryuunosuke said, yawning, bringing Kazuma out of his memory and back into the attic. "It's not like a snowman should be warm! He'll melt if he's too hot." Ryuunosuke continued, a little too loud for the time of night in faraway Tokyo.
The image of a snowman sweating from too much winter gear set Kazuma off into a fit of painful giggles and coughs, and the ache in his body intensified. Was it from his illness, or from homesickness? Resting couldn't cure homesickness.
Ryuunosuke rubbed his eyes and yawned again, forehead creased with worry. "You're exhausted, too. Please, don't overdo it just to talk with me."
Being the object of Ryuunosuke's pity burned. Or, maybe it was the fever. Even so, Kazuma knew the signs -- Ryuunosuke was getting tired himself. On a normal day, Kazuma would have turned the doll off and returned to work by now. For Saturdays, he would have a few more minutes, waiting until Ryuunosuke closed his eyes and his breath evened out.
Kazuma opened his mouth to object, but he yawned instead. He didn't want to say goodnight just yet. He didn't want to stare at a blank page in his diary, too tired to write, all afternoon.
"Shhh. Just lie down on the mat with me. We both already have blankets." Ryuunosuke suggested. His image reclined onto the mat, blanket hugging him.
Kazuma's limbs felt too heavy to even rub his burning eyes. If he fell asleep now, he'd spend half the night or more awake, trying to settle his thoughts with nothing but a fountain pen and a gas lamp. It would be worth the cost. Kazuma lay down on the tatami next to the flickering image.
"You don't have to sleep. Close your eyes and I'll watch over you," Ryuunosuke said, his voice fading with exhaustion. It felt like an evening on the Burya, even though they hadn't laid side by side then. "It's okay," Ryuunosuke mumbled as he began to drift into sleep.
Kazuma's eyes fluttered shut. On the edge of his awareness, the warm, woolen felt of the mouse doll merged into the dark maroon scarf. Tomorrow, it would come in from the cold and be mended. It was okay, and so Kazuma drifted off to sleep.