A Place To Call Home K. Shinsuke

a place to call home — k. shinsuke

one bed + childhood rivals/friends to lovers

synopsis. "be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

wc. ~2k

— for @mastering-procrastinating & an anon bff! 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns six years old, the vacant house across the street suddenly springs to life with occupants.

His life spirals from being humble and quiet to chaotic in 24 hours. Suddenly, he's responsible for taking care of the bratty kid next door even though they're his age. His bedtime gets thrown out the window because he needs to chase them down to get them to brush their teeth, and his dinner always has some suspiciously missing elements that he never finds.

You become the centerpiece of his entire existence—a floating memory in every crevice of his mind.

Kita hears your laughter in the songs of his childhood; feels your hands roughly pushing him and dragging him around by the wrist; smells the minty toothpaste he forcefully shoved into your mouth after finally catching up to you. 

It seems as though you and him were born to be polar opposites. Where he climbs you stumble. Where he sits quietly at the dinner table, you have a never-ending stream of anecdotes to tell Granny (even though half of them are greatly exaggerated—he was literally there to witness it). Where he behaves like a normal child, you can't even sit still during storytime in class.

However, your differences do little to remove you from his life. Where he goes, you go.

It's a consequence of growing up thirty meters from your front door and having you over when your parents suddenly uproot to go on week-long business trips.

And he wouldn't care so much, really, if it weren't for the fact that Granny had equal amounts of love to go around. That, and he would have to sleep on the floor whenever you came around.

For someone so disciplined and grounded, Kita Shinsuke was an envious child. He hated having you in his home, because it meant that his beloved Granny had to split her attention between the two of you. Because she would always tuck you in before him. Because you were louder, more needy, more everything. Because he often woke up with back pains at the ripe age of six years old.

When Kita turns eight, he finally bubbles over.

You're on the swings behind one of your friends, standing on the back of the seat and clinging to the chains. You're being careless, and he would be remiss if you were to hurt yourself.

"Get down from there," he scolds, standing in front of the swing set to stop you from continuing.

"Make me!" You exclaim back, childishly sticking out your tongue and rocking the swing back and forth, gesturing to your friend to keep going.

"Stop."

He comes up behind you and tugs at your shirt, making you wobble.

"Quit it, Shin!"

"You'll hurt yourself!"

He convinces himself that he only cares so much because Granny would have to spend more time with you to patch you up if you fell, and not because he would hate to see your snotty, crying face.

No, it doesn't make his heart squeeze. Not even a little.

Eventually, you end up face first in the wood chips anyway, with Kita hovering over you looking guilty as ever. He hadn't meant to pull you off so roughly, nor had he meant for you to land on the ground like that.

Oh. Why does it hurt him so much?

That night, you don't sleep in his room.

You end up tucked into Granny's bed instead, down the hall. He misses your presence—he even ends up on the floor though the bed is empty for him to take.

He blinks up at the space where you should be and feels bitterness swelling in his throat. 

"Shin." His Granny calls softly when she eventually comes into his room. She doesn't sound the least bit angry, but he still aches with nothing but guilt.

"M'sorry." He knows the apology should be for you, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye over dinner.

His Granny only sighs, kneeling down beside his futon with a tired huff. A reminder of her age. He only feels worse.

"Be kind, Shinsuke."

"I'm tryin'," he argues weakly.

She's silent for a pause before she carefully tucks the silver hair from his eyes.

"You'd be lonely too if I were gone all the time, eh?"

"..."

Kita pulls the covers closer to his chin. Yes, he was aware there was a reason you were always here. There was a reason your house was devoid of life despite being filled with furniture. There was a reason you wanted Granny to love you so much, cementing in the gaps where your parents were always absent.

Did you ever want him to love you like that, too?

The next night, he sits you down on the edge of the tub with no complaints. And he's surprised that you accept the toothbrush into your mouth so easily, no resistance and no qualms like you usually have.

He sees the tired defeat in your eyes, feels the awkward tension in the bathroom, and guides your hand to the end of the brush so you can do it yourself.

"I'm sorry," he tells you without elaborating. You never need him to. (When you reminisce about this day, you sometimes laugh to yourself. You always did love how straightforward he was.)

His words are followed by a tense hug, his hands holding your head against his tummy. The brush stops moving in your mouth as you hug him back.

It dawns on him then: he's just as much of a kid as you are—feeling something as petty as jealousy when all you needed was a hug.

One day, he swears, he'll make it up to you. And he'll be nicer, too. It's the least he can do if he's all the company you have until your parents return.

Be kind, Shinsuke. That's what Yumie always told her grandson. And he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns twenty-two years old, your apartment floods.

Of course he's the first one there, helping you move what you could salvage from the apartment into suitcases and onto the back of his truck. Of course he's the one to offer a place to stay, because if not him, then who else? And of course he's the one who holds you when you're stressing about what to do and where to go, hand firmly on your back as he lets you snot on his shirt like you've done since you were six.

For a brief moment, it feels as though he's just a little kid again with you making a mess of the home he grew up in.

Well, mess is a stretch—you've infinitely matured since starting food wars with him over dinner, but the point stands when he ends up helping you with an assignment. It had been pushed to the backburner with everything going on, whilst you were moving essentially everything you owned into his house as if you paid rent there.

He should have known that some things never change.

"I can't believe you kicked me out onto the floor."

Kita shuffles in the comfort of his duvet, resting atop his mattress. He stares at you with honey brown eyes swimming in conflict from the bed.

You curl tighter into a ball on the futon. And he knows this ploy—knows that you're trying to guilt trip him into swapping places with you. You've always been manipulative when it came to him, and god-forbid he be anything but an angel to you. (Because his Granny told him to, not for any other reason at all.)

"M'not the one who made a bet they couldn't win."

Words straight and cutting as ever, like a blade through your heart. You pout childishly, rolling over so that your back is turned to him.

It was your idea to challenge him when he said you were on your phone too much while working. It was your idea to be a brat and defiantly say that you could finish your assignment by midnight. It was your idea to bet this all on the most beloved yet war-inducing place in the entire house: Kita's bed.

It's hardly his fault that you got distracted with YouTube.

"I hate you, Shin."

"No y’don't."

"I do."

"No. You don't."

"Okay fine, I don't, but can we please swap now? It's freezin’ down here."

He can practically hear the pout still engraved into your face right now. And it takes every ounce of fight in him not to give into you with the snap of a finger. To argue back and list a million reasons why he should be allowed in his own bed.

Yet here he is, slipping out of the sheets almost instantly and crouching down beside the futon. He shakes your shoulder.

"Fine. Get goin' before I change my mind."

Any resolve left in his body melts away when you shoot upright with a bright smile, victorious as ever.

Sometimes you made it hard for him to imagine why he cared about you at all. You were too sly for your own good. How could he ever deny such a smile? It's not fair.

You scurry into his bed instantly, making yourself comfortable where you have hundreds of times before. "You should make sure I'm comfy. I am a guest in your house, y’know?"

Yes, Kita knows this all too well. You're trying to provoke him, to see how far you can push him until he breaks. Stubborn and obedient, he reaches down to slowly pull the blanket over your body.

There's a pause from you as he drapes you in warmth, blinking up at him dumbly as if you weren’t expecting him to do so without complaint.

"I'm..." You seem to choke on your own words, silently contemplating whether or not you should push further. "My face is still cold."

His hands hold your face instantly, warming your cheeks skin-to-skin. You stare at him with wide eyes, looking so surprised that he wonders if what he's doing is a mistake. But then your hands gently cover his, and you tug him closer until his knee is sinking down on the mattress beside you.

"M'super cold."

"It's twenty-two degrees in here," he informs you flatly.

You make a face, nose slightly scrunched in thought and brows pinched. It's such a troubled expression that he can't help but scoot a little closer.

He's being kind, that's all. He's just making sure you're okay as a friend. No, not even a friend—an obligatory companion. The lifelong thorn in his side. The reason why his back still aches some days.

Be kind, Shinsuke.

When did being kind turn into this? Into moving involuntarily, into having a second nature response to you? Into a stubborn body only movable by one soul, one voice, one pair of hands?

"Keep me warm, Shin."

He gives in to your whims without reason, without logic or hesitation. You are the sole person able to break down any semblance of routine that's been methodically coded into his muscles.

He doesn't get you, perhaps he never would. He would never completely understand your wishes, or how your cheeks were so cold yet burning hot at the same time, or why he was submitting to you so easily.

The only thing he knows is that you are still somehow the centerpiece of his life, dancing in the middle of it all like a black hole sucking in everything else; the whirlpool swirling in the center of calm waters; the supernova of his galaxy.

"...'Kay."

Maybe he doesn't need a reason to care about you. Maybe your very existence is reason enough. And he’s okay with that for once in his life. He had never been the type to go with the flow, but your hands are dragging up his neck and pulling his body onto the mattress.

That night, you both fall asleep in the bed.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

Bye nations, I'll shall perish for 3weeks. Works are waiting for me.

</3

(I'll might bring some stories when I'm back, who knows?) ^.^

kita loves you so much. from the bottom of his heart, with his entire soul, to the moon and back he's in love with you.

which is why he's out in the garden with you at 10:30pm.

it all started about an hour ago while the two of you were relaxing on the couch. kita was reading a book, you were flipping through a cookbook you found in the closet. everything was peaceful and quiet, only the soft hum of the dishwasher in the background, until you shot up with a gasp.

"shin, my ring!"

the search started in the living room, tearing apart the couch cushions and blankets in a frenzy. then you two moved to the kitchen. kita went under the sink to undo the pipes, just in case you dropped it while the two of you did dishes together. you checked the garbage, counter tops, and cabinets. kita hit his head on the bottom of the sink when you let out a rather worrisome groan.

"what's wrong love?"

"i think it's in the garden."

the two of you ran out the door soon after that with flashlights and made a bee line to the garden next to the barn. it's dusk now, sun long gone and the sky coated in a dark purple. you've been apologizing over and over, voice full of worry about the mistake. kita's been nothing but calm, always kissing your cheeks and assuring you it's going to be okay.

while he's been nothing but relaxed smiles, he's actually quite worried.

that ring was not only expensive, but something very heartfelt that he spent weeks putting together. the ring is a family ring from kita's grandmother, with the stone from his great grandmother's ring. it's gorgeous, and looks even better when it's on your finger.

most of all though, it reminds everyone that you're forever his.

"where were ya when ya took it off?"

"right when i started, i took it off to make sure i wouldn't plant it by mistake," you pace in front of the gates, moving the flash light everywhere and anywhere to hopefully catch something sparkling. "maybe i forgot? but i swear i didn't."

kita's heart is racing. he keeps telling himself that it's going to be okay and it's just a ring! but deep down he can't accept that. he's on his hands and knees, feeling around in the dirt for the diamond.

"we'll find it sweetheart, i promise. we just gotta keep lookin'," he grunts as he stands back up, walking towards the new rows of carrots that you made earlier.

"i'm so sorry," you apologize for what must be the 100th time, but your husband just smiles and waves it off.

you wipe your hands off on your jeans for a second, and your stomach drops when something oddly ring-like runs underneath your palm.

"no, no, no," you mumble, shoving your hand into your front pocket to pull out the reason for the now unnecessarily stressful evening.

"what?" kita walks over to you quickly, laughing when he sees the ring in your hand. you throw your head back and groan, but kita only smiles. he takes your now sparkly hand in his, walking back to your house.

"i can't believe that i did that, i'm so embarrassed. i'm sorry shin, i'll be more careful."

he opens the back door for you, patting your bum as you walk in.

"don't worry baby. ya found it, and that's all that matters."

you shuffle into the kitchen and grab the tea pot from the stove, letting out a sigh of relief while you fill it up at the sink.

"in my jeans! of all places,"

kita comes up behind you and rests his hands on your hips. he places a kiss on your cheek and snorts.

"that's the best part," he pokes your side, earning a giggle.

"if it were a snake, it woulda bit ya."

I'm smitten for sunshine and positive vibes guys, no one can tell me otherwise bc i melt on the spot seeing those bright smile babes.

how do u write so clearly and simple yet so beautiful? genuinely asking

OMG STOPPP tysm for enjoying my writing !!! bro actually i’ve been hearing a lot of comments and reblogs saying my writing style is simple yet detailed (?) which is such a compliment but also like i lowkey had no idea bcuz i don’t really know what my writing comes off as to other people ???? if that makes sense ??? ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

but here’s some tips/habits i’ve noticed i use when i’m writing:

keep it simple !! when i first started writing i was so obsessed with trying to make my writing “better” than it actually was — the absolute tip top tier of perfection that looked like this — google searching pretty and fancy words as well as synonyms for simple words. my search history would be all synonyms for laugh or synonyms for happy and the piece would just end up feeling so stiff and devoid of any writing style or voice

reading back on my old writing, sometimes it’s so obvious i had no fucking clue what those words meant !! so trust yourself- trust that what you already know works great— and sometimes less is more

speaking of less is more— a lot of times, i tend to glaze over a lot of minute details n stuff in my fics. this is obviously just preference: some authors describe everything and it turns out great. but i kinda like focusing less on the constant details and more on the overarching ideas??

for example, something like this:

osamu wakes up and blinks at the ceiling blah blah blah and rubs his eyes. he gets out of bed and pulls his shirt on blah blah and leaves the house to walk to the corner store with an umbrella. on the way he looks at the purple flowers and his shoes. when he gets in the store he thinks about buying some bread and butter

would actually look like this:

when osamu wakes up, the only thing on his mind is sweet bread and butter from that corner store down the street— the one with the purple flowers.

lmk if u guys want more ??? tips ? i was about to write some more but Idk if u all want that LMFAOOAOA

This is Eman a Biotechnologist from Gaza. Asking for help is not easy. It's not easy at all. You have no idea how mentally and emotionally tiring this is. But when thinking that the price is my family's life, getting out of here safely and achieve my doctoral degree dream, it just pushes me more and more to do this until we reach our goal. I'm here as I try to reach out to more people asking for their help to support our family's campaign so we can survive while all you have to do is literally donating even by just the price of your morning coffee or maybe a simple breakfast, So I think I'm not asking for so much. We're really tired of living under these catastrophic conditions for a whole 10 months. Your generosity will not only change our lives but also remind us that even in our darkest hour, we are not alone. https://gofund.me/d597b8e2

Praying for you dearest!!!!