Winter had settled over Fukui, blanketing the city in a chill that was hard to shake off. Haruto hated winter. He hated the dreariness in the sky. He hated having to wear a lot of layers. He hated how dead everything was.

Most of all, he hated how utterly lethargic he always felt this time of year, especially since he was on break and he was supposed to be enjoying it. During spring and summer breaks, he always milked every drop of fun out of them with his typical vibrancy. But on days like these, when the mornings were so dark, he slept in late and couldn't drag himself out of his room for hours once he did wake up. Even his friends noticed how grumpy he was.

Still. He thought this year might be different. When they'd switched to their winter uniforms, Keiji had been refreshingly straightforward that whole day, free of the sarcasm he usually dripped with. After a bit of coercing, he'd revealed that he, in fact, loved winter. It was essentially the first time he'd openly claimed to love anything. He made his preferences known, but this was different. Haruto had hoped that Keiji's uncharacteristic optimism would carry him through the dreadful season.

And yet... he was ghosting him. After the day they spent showing off their favorite media to each other when Keiji abruptly decided to leave, he'd pretty much– pun intended– iced him out until break started. He was even avoiding texts and calls; Haruto suspected that would make him more comfortable, but apparently not. Which was all bullshit, especially considering how forcefully Keiji had insisted that he hadn't done anything to offend him. Typically, this would make Haruto unbearably sad, but right now, he was just fed up. He felt like a little kid whose big brother was ignoring him in public. It was stupidly embarrassing.

He checked the time on his phone– it was eleven in the morning– and extracted himself from bed with a whine. Hygiene be damned, he went straight to his workshop, not bothering with anything. Bedhead, morning breath, pajamas, no breakfast, he really couldn't care less. His apron was going to cover most of him anyway. He thought about what to make and settled on a mug. He wanted straightforward throwing, but decided he could do some intricate carving and glazing. Time to get to work. A handful of measured porcelain clay in hand, he buckled down. The rhythmic wedging process felt satisfying, and the coning exerted just enough physical strength to make him feel a little less sluggish. A sigh escaped his lips. This really did always regulate his mood, even if it was only for a little while.

In order to carve, the clay would need to be leather hard, which would take a few days. He supposed he could make this into a set. And so, he repeated the whole ordeal several times. When he was about to begin his fifth or sixth go around, however, his eyes landed on a pair of bespectacled eyes. "Oh. Dad. Sorry, how long have you been here?"

"Not terribly long. Just a few minutes. I didn't mean to interrupt your flow, but I felt it was important to remind you to eat."

The instant he was prompted to think about anything other than his projects, he finally noticed just how hungry he was. "Okay. I'll wash up."

"Actually, kiddo... would you want to go out for brunch with me? I think it'd do you a world of good to get some fresh air and different scenery today."

He wanted to object– that would be a whole lot of effort– but surrendered when his father gave him an affectionate hair ruffle. "Sure." But I'm not gonna shower today. "Thanks for caring about me, Dad."

"Always and forever, sweetheart."

Now that he'd finished working on his craft, Bisque lost all sense of bodily harmony, which made getting ready a pain. He nearly fell over himself while trying to put on jeans. But after brushing his teeth and hair, he was finally presentable, and his father escorted him into the car, humming a tune to himself. Bisque expected a relatively quiet drive, but Arata had other plans. He turned it to the corniest pop station he could find and blasted it, singing his lungs out. Bisque cackled, starting small and eventually falling into such hysterics that tears gathered in his eyes. Once he finally regained his composure, he tried to sing along, but kept getting swept up in fits of giggles.

Eventually, they made it to the restaurant and ordered a traditional breakfast. "Okay, bud. Spill. I know the cold makes you gloomy, but this is worse than usual."

"Do I have to?"

Arata's brows furrowed quizzically. "No. If you don't want to, I don't intend to force you. But that response is a little concerning."

"Ah, it's nothing you have to worry about. Just... friend problems, I guess."

"I see. Well, remember that you can tell your mom and me anything. We're here for you."

Haruto wiggled restlessly in the booth. "Mmmph. If I go into it with you, will you please, please, pretty please keep this a secret from Mom?"

He could see in Arata's eyes that the older man was growing increasingly wary. "Can you tell me why you want that?"

"It's nothing she'd punish me for or anything like that. It's just that... I think it would break her heart a little bit." Arata's careful eye caught how his son's fingers shifted and how he smiled in a sad way.

A pause. Then, "Alright. I promise."

"It's... Keiji. I don't even really know how to explain it, other than... he's a really different person than he was back when we were kids. And not in a good way. He was uber polite and shy with you guys, but he's usually not like that. I think we had the same goal– hiding his true self from you two so that he wouldn't hurt you. He's honestly really mean now. It's kind of scary. He even pretended not to remember me when we met again. But I was stubborn and I wanted to see the best in him, so I kept trying to get close to him again. Sometimes, I think it's working. In his own way, he looks out for me and defends me from other people. And he actually acts interested in whatever I have to say. But he's also... snippy, and short-tempered." He didn't even pause when their drinks arrived. "I don't even know what happened, but a couple of weeks ago, he left our house all suddenly, and since then, he's been totally ignoring me. And it's so frustrating! He even used my nickname for the first time that very same day, and then he just goes radio silent?! How is that fair?"

Arata listened patiently, nodding along and really absorbing every word. "I see. I can certainly understand why you'd want to keep this from your mother..." His fingers were interlocked and his foot tapped. He closed one eye, his telltale sign of deeply thinking. "Well... let's try to break this down logically. What were you two doing that day?"

"We watched Survivor for a while and then started playing my game. I'd just finished talking about why I love it so much. I got into, like, childhood insecurities a little bit, so I thought maybe I'd made him uncomfortable. But he didn't say anything cruel, which was a good sign. And I even directly asked him if I'd messed up, and he denied it literally at the speed of light! He tells me when I piss him off. I've done it before."

"If he told you it wasn't your fault, how did he explain it?"

"He said he was falling behind on his responsibilities. Like, grades and chores and stuff."

"He always did care very deeply about grades. Perhaps you should take him at face value."

"Maybe. I mean, I know that he used to spend practically every minute of every day studying before I forced him to be around me." He pouted bitterly. "But I also know he always runs away when he gets too emotional." A mocking snicker burst forth before he could continue. "What a perfect combination. I cry and he runs."

"What if he's like a rabbit?"

"What?" The idea of Keiji with bunny ears was so absurd that it almost knocked Haruto straight out of his mood.

"If you say he runs in situations like this, maybe you shouldn't keep trying to directly face the problem. Give him something interesting to think about and comment on, then leave it be for a while. Like leaving some lettuce out for a skittish rabbit. You may not get to the root of what's going on, but at least he'll be talking to you again. You could potentially address whatever the heck is happening some other time."

"Huh. It's worth a try, I guess!" In response to his son's agreement, Arata pulled out the small lucky cat statue he always kept with him— he wasn't particularly superstitious, but Himari was, and she had gotten them matching charms ages ago. Haruto took a sip of orange juice and cringed; the remnants of minty taste in his mouth ruined the flavor. "Oh! Maybe that?"

He pulled out his phone.

Hey, why does food taste so different right after you brush your teeth? Like, oj is super disgusting

The phone started ringing, and Haruto fumbled with it so frantically that it crashed sideways on the table and clattered to the floor. "Already?! Crap, crap, crap!" He picked it up. "Yoooo!" The word sounded so forced that he winced at the sound of his own voice.

"Sodium lauryl sulfate, a foaming agent in toothpaste, attaches to the sweet receptors on your tongue. It basically gets in the way of your ability to taste sweet stuff and elevates your sensitivity to bitter stuff." Keiji's voice was spiritless and quiet.

Bisque was bewildered. Keiji could've texted for this, but here he was, calling the second he received the message. "So, mint and orange work fine together, it's just this other thing making it gross?"

"Supposedly. I can't exactly speak from my own experience on whether they're a good flavor pairing, but I've heard it's tasty." The tone was still flat. None of Keiji's swagger from knowing random crap was coming through. So, even though this was progress, he didn't seem even remotely pleased to be doing this.

"Thanks. Talk to you la–"

"Don't g– I mean, hold on a minute."

Haruto's eyes widened. Arata mouthed, "What's happening?" He tried to respond, but had no idea what to say, so wound up just shaking his head and shrugging with his mouth still open.

"Yeah. I'm here." Keiji had bought himself a little more time, but the line was silent. Haruto sighed. "Keiji, I don't know what I did wrong. You're sending me all these mixed messages. If I hurt your feelings, I'd like to know how to fix it. And if I didn't, I'd like to know how to help you. Or at least why you totally ditched me."

"I know." The words were a near-whisper. "I don't really know how to explain it. You legitimately didn't do anything to offend me. It's more like... I had a thought that was contrary to basically everything I've believed in for ages now. It was... massively uncomfortable, and I felt like I needed time to sort myself out."

"Oh... you okay now?" Keiji gave a noncommittal sound on the other end. "Well. You know I'm here for you if you need it. Are you actually gonna start being around again?"

"Mhm."

"Nice. Alright. I'm gonna head off. Bye, Keij—"

"WAIT." A hiss on the other end. "Ack, that was louder than I wanted. I just had a question. Did... did my pulling away make you cry?"

Haruto shifted in his seat with a bit of a grimace. "Once. But I've mostly just been all crabby."

A shuddering breath, a deep inhalation. "Damn, why is this so hard?" The words sounded far away, like he'd pulled back from the receiver. He probably hadn't intended for Haruto to hear them. But then he got closer again. "Bisque, I'm... I'm really sorry. I know that what I did was incredibly inconsiderate. I was so caught up in myself that I hurt you. I swear I won't ever shun you like that again."

Haruto had no idea what kind of face he might be making. His heart was thrumping in his chest. This was the first time Keiji had ever apologized to him for anything. He'd apologized to his parents for insignificant things, but that seemed more like standard manners than this. "Y-Yeah. It's okay. Keep your promise though, okay? Now, I really do seriously have to go. Have a good day! Text me if anything interesting happens."

"S-Sure. Bye, Haruto."

Haruto hung up. Took a pause. "OH. MY. GOD."

Arata hummed pleasantly. "Seems like you guys took a good step forward?"

Haruto got up to wrap his arms around his father. "Dad! I can't believe that worked! Thanks so much!" He felt a hand tousling his curly hair.

He felt safe. And he felt loved.