Eyeliner Mishap

Subaru could feel the last traces of sleep ebbing away as he slowly awoke. His dreams melted into reality as he stirred, letting out a long groan while stretching his stiff muscles. Without opening his eyes, he could tell he was alone in bed; his right arm passed over the empty space where his husband Masao usually slept and the sheets were cool. Masao had left awhile ago, then. Exhaling huffily, Subaru turned his head and cracked open an eye, squinting at the clock. It was half past ten. Friday.

Ah, right. Masao had a college class Friday morning. He’d wake up carefully without disturbing Subaru (which wasn’t hard, considering he was a heavy sleeper), check on their four-year-old son Kiseki, set him up with breakfast and an activity (like a movie or coloring pages), then take off. His class ended around ten, so that would mean he’d be home soon—

The door opened, closed. Speak of the devil, right on time. A minute later, then:

“Subaru!”

Subaru had since closed his eye and began sinking back into slumber, but at the urgent calling of his name, rolled over to stare drowsily at the ceiling. “Yeah?” Masao normally would pop in to literally roll Subaru out of bed, so something was up. Numerous scenarios tumbled through his head, debating whether he should get up or—

Masao appeared in the doorway then, hands on his hips and looking halfway between incredulous and annoyed. Subaru propped himself on his elbows; the long strands of black hair on the left side of his face were plastered to his cheek, the rest sticking up at odd angles. Knowing he didn’t look particularly dashing at the moment, he settled for a charming smile instead. “Hey, hon. Anything I can do for you?”

Masao puffed out his chest, fingers tapping on his hips. “Why yes, you can.” Glancing over his shoulder, he called for their son. “Kiseki! Come show daddy what you’ve done.”

This ought to be interesting. By Masao’s tone, both he and his son were equally in trouble and both to blame for whatever incident had happened. Sitting up, Subaru rubbed the sleep from his eyes and attempted to tame his hair.

In toddled Kiseki then, holding a black stick in his hand. With a closer look, Subaru took a quick intake of breath. That was his eyeliner. “Oh no.” His eyes traveled upwards and there, on his son’s face, was a horrific black mess of smeared make-up.

“Look, daddy!” Kiseki exclaimed, holding up the eyeliner stick proudly. “I look like you! Like that one picture of you and mommy!”

Subaru’s mouth hung open slightly as he stared at the result of Kiseki’s hard work. For several seconds he remained like this before he sheepishly met Masao’s glare. “I… yes, kiddo, looks great,” he said, still looking at Masao. “I, uh…” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shuffling over to Kiseki and kneeling down. “You, um. This is meant to go around your eyes, you know. You kind of…” He gestured to his own face. “You kinda missed your eyes, kiddo. Look, you’ve got a bit on your chin, even.”

“Teach me, daddy!” Kiseki thrust the eyeliner in Subaru’s face, beaming. “I wanna have black eyes too!”

“But kiddo, I don’t even wear it anymore. I should throw it away—”

“No! We do it together! Mommy too!!”

Masao cleared his throat, tapping his foot. Subaru sighed, hoisting Kiseki into his arms. “Maybe later, okay, kiddo? You gotta ask mommy for permission first, you gotta ask him if it’s okay.” Inwardly, Subaru was trying not to laugh. Though Kiseki had failed terrifically and looked like he had taken a black marker to the face, the fact that his son wanted to look like he had a couple years back made his heart swell with pride. “But I’ll teach you someday, alright? Right now, we gotta clean you up.”

“Aww.” Kiseki pouted, looking at the eyeliner stick forlornly. “I tried, daddy.”

“I know, kiddo.” He kissed the top of Kiseki’s little head and leaned in to kiss the corner of Masao’s frown. It lifted slightly, and by the way Masao turned away to hide his small smile, Subaru knew he wasn’t completely angry. “You did your best,” he said as he walked them down the hall to the bathroom. “Took daddy awhile to get it right, too.”

“Were you four?” Kiseki quipped, shaking the stick and accidentally bopping Subaru in the chin. “I am four.”

“You are,” Subaru agreed, setting Kiseki on the counter. “But no, I wasn’t four. I think I was… sixteen?”

Kiseki’s mouth opened wide. “Six… that’s old, daddy.”

Subaru snorted, chuckling softly. “Is it, now?” He grabbed some make-up remover from the cabinet, wetting a washcloth with the substance. “I’m older than sixteen, you know,” he continued, gently taking the eyeliner away from his son and storing it in a high place unreachable for four-year-olds.

“Really?” Kiseki sat still obediently, scrunching his eyes shut as his father diligently set to work. “How old are you today?”

“Well, yesterday I was one hundred.” When Kiseki gasped loudly, Subaru laughed. “Hey, I’m kidding! Your grand-daddy’s not even that old. I’m twenty four.”

“Twenty… four…” The young child sat quietly for a moment, allowing his father to work without disturbance. After some time, he simply said, “That’s a lot.”

“Mhmm.” Subaru slipped a finger beneath his son’s chin, raising Kiseki’s head. “You didn’t get any in your mouth, did you? This stuff isn’t for eating. Open up.” Kiseki obeyed, sticking out his tongue, and when Subaru was satisfied ten minutes later that the mess was clean to not only his standards but Masao’s, he stepped back. “Alright. Damage was done but has been fixed. Take a look.”

Kiseki turned, studying himself in the mirror. “All clean, daddy!”

“You bet.” Tossing the washcloth in the dirty laundry, he scooped Kiseki back into his arms. “Remember, no more make-up for awhile, got it? You’ll have all the ladies and fellas swooning for you without it anyway.”

“Daddy, what’s swooning?”

Subaru brushed a piece of hair out of Kiseki’s eyes. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

Kiseki blinked up at him, then eyed the hair that fell loose on the side of Subaru’s face. “Daddy, can I grow my hair like yours?”

Subaru walked back down the hallway, a smile playing on his lips. “I don’t think mommy will approve of that either.”