The Shape of Your Face

KINDA WARNING: This chapter has some extremely mild lemonade.


CHAPTER 8

Ranma was pacing

Back and forth, back and forth.

He'd started with the waiting room, but the small space wasn't
enough to calm him down. So he'd started making laps around the
floor. When that wasn't enough, he added the stairs and the floor
below.

Two hours into Mousse's operation, his ‘laps' had grown to cover
the entire ten-floor hospital and part of the parking lot.

He was driving Akane crazy.

Especially since each lap was taking less than a minute.

"Ranma," Akane moaned as he started his 137th lap, "you're making
me dizzy. Sit down for a few minutes."

"‘M too nervous." Ranma replied, bouncing on one foot impatiently.
"If I sit still, I may die. Was it *supposed* to take this long?!"

"Three and a half to four hours, Ranma. At the quickest. You don't
want them to do some hurry-up job on Mousse, do you?"

"Of course not!" Ranma glared.

"Then calm down. It'll be over when it's over."

"Easy for you to talk." Ranma muttered. "Ryoga's right next to *you*."

Akane and Ryoga exchanged glances, and Ranma suddenly found himself
pinned between them in a crushing hug.

"We know you're worried," Akane soothed, "it'll be all right."

"Yeah," Ryoga said, slightly embarrassed at being so mushy. "Mousse'll
be fine."

"Yeah," Ranma pulled away from them, blushing slightly. "He'll be
fine." He didn't look totally convinced.

But he did sit down.


*


People looked a lot smaller when they were in hospital beds. Even in
rooms like this one, decorated for people who weren't really ill, who
were there for specialized surgery like Mousse was. It might be bright
and cheerful, with pictures on the walls and a vase of flowers, but it
was still a hospital room.

And there were white bandages wrapped around Mousse's eyes.

That didn't help their sudden nervousness.

Mousse was still asleep, under the light anesthesia that made sure he
wouldn't move during the delicate surgery. The nurse had told them he
would wake up any time now, and it would help him if he knew they were
here. Ranma swallowed nervously and moved to sit beside the bed,
taking a limp hand in his. Akane and Ryoga sat together in the only
other chair, Akane perched on her boyfriend's lap.

The nurse had been right - within a few minutes, Mousse stirred, moving
his head restlessly on the pillow, black hair slipping down to puddle
against his neck. Ranma gently stroked it back and Mousse's free hand
caught his.

"R-ranma?" he whispered.

"Yeah. ‘S me," Ranma said softly, letting go of Mousse's hand to
stroke his cheek.

The slender white hand he had released lifted slowly, searching, and
Ranma moved his head so the fingers bumped his chin. Mousse
immediately began a hesitant exploration of his features, as though
he didn't quite trust his ears with the truth of Ranma's voice.

After a long, quiet moment with delicate fingertips barely brushing
Ranma's face, Mousse sighed. "Good," he whispered, and let his hand
drop back to the bed.

Ranma shifted, feeling guilty and a little turned-on. The feathery
touch of those fingers never failed to arouse him.

"Doctor... say any... thing yet?" Mousse was still very drowsy.

"Not yet."

"...kay." Mousse lay quiet for several moments, content to just lay
still, his hand held firmly in Ranma's. Akane and Ryoga were satisfied
just watching them, not worried about whether Mousse realized they
were there yet.

The nurse came in and smiled at them. "Awake?"

"Yes." Mousse answered before any of the others could, his voice
stronger than it had been before.

"Good!" She bustled over to the bed and quickly checked his vitals.
"Very good! The doctor will be in to speak to you soon. You can have
ice and water, but don't eat anything just yet. The anesthesia will
leave you nauseous for awhile. Call me if you need anything." She
vanished out the door.

A few more quiet minutes passed before the doctor came. At one point,
Ranma got Mousse a glass of water, and at another point Akane's soft
voice informed him that she and Ryoga were there.

Both incidents were replied to with the same appreciative humming
noise.

The doctor came in, finally, and beamed at the teenagers before his
eyes settled firmly on Mousse. He'd always been a bluntly-spoken
person, and more than one patient had told him they appreciated the
way he simply got to the point. He saw no need to change his ways
now. These children wouldn't appreciate having things sugar-coated.
"Well, son, you came through the surgery just fine, and I think you'll
be pleased when those bandages come off. Now, I have good news and
not so good news. Which do you want first?"


*


Two boys sat quietly in a dark room, neither willing to break the
silence.

Mousse sat on his bed, dressed in loose pants and an oversized
t-shirt. In the soft dimness, the bandages around his eyes were
startlingly white.

Ranma sat with his back against the door, feeling the need to guard
the room even though none of his enemies knew that he and his
vulnerable love were in this dingy boardinghouse.

They'd left the hospital soon after the doctor had left the room.
The nurses had been inclined to make Mousse stay longer, but the boy
had insisted on leaving and he *was* an outpatient. They couldn't
make him stay once the anesthesia had worn off.

Akane and Ryoga had gone reluctantly back to their respective homes,
but Ranma knew he'd not see his own bed tonight. Not for a few days
more, either. There was no way he was leaving Mousse until those
bandages were off. No way at all...

"Five years." Mousse's soft voice was rather dazed.

"It's better than a couple of months," Ranma was more inclined to be
cheerful. Five years was wonderful! "And then they'll try the
surgery again."

"What if it doesn't work?" Mousse had thought he wasn't hoping for
miracles with this operation, but now he realized his subconscious
mind had been. The doctor had said he was very pleased with the
results, that Mousse should have three or four years of very good
eyesight, then some deterioration over the course of a year. Then he
could have a repeat of the procedure, which would either be totally
successful or have the same result.

Or leave him completely blind, but that was a very weak possibility.
One in several hundred thousand, the doctor had said.

So he'd try his best not to worry about it.

A sudden dip in the mattress, a weight at his side, told him that
Ranma had crawled onto the bed.

"You worry way too much," the younger boy teased him, then he felt
firm, sweet lips press against his. He sighed and opened his mouth
without any prompting, letting Ranma explore the hot wet depths as
much as he liked.

And Ranma liked to a *lot*.

"You really taste good," he whispered, lifting his lips away after a
long, pleasant moment of kisses.

"You do, too," came the even softer reply.

"Have you stopped worrying yet?"

"No."

Ranma sighed. "Okay. Then tell me what you're worrying about."

"Well... I have to pay Akane and Ryoga back, and save up for the next
surgery, and even though five years is a lot better than not-quite one
year, it still..."

"First off," Ranma interrupted, "It's *we* have to pay them back and
save up, not just *you*. And Akane has some ideas about it that we
were going to talk over with you the next time we saw you, but you
were too busy with some surgery thing. And five years is *great*,
and we're going to enjoy it. It's not like that's the length of time
you have left to live, you know?"

Mousse was silent for awhile. "You're absolutely right," he finally
answered, "and I'm going to try not to worry so much. Want to make
out some more, instead?"

"Of course!" Ranma laughed, and pounced on him again.


*


Akane's idea, as it turned out, was more of a proposition. She and
Ryoga had decided, after their recent experiences, that there were
two kinds of eating establishments in Nerima. The kind with good
food that you had to pay lots of money for, or the cheap kind with
mediocre food. Well, really, there were four - you could pay good
money for horrible food at the few ‘status' restaurants in town, or
pay a quarter for really crappy food.

So Akane proposed they start a restaurant of their own.

"With good food and reasonable prices. Nothing fancy. Like the
Nekohanten, only - without the chaos. And with better decor."

Ryoga was looking for a good building in a nice location, while Ranma
was beating himself over the head with schoolbooks, trying to get
enough work done to graduate early, and Akane was going around trying
to find out how much money they would have to borrow and who could
loan it to them.

Mousse was trying to get used to sight.

Real sight, sharp and clear without the weight of glasses across his
nose - and anyway, it was *better* than it had *ever* been when he'd
worn glasses. The doctor had been rather disappointed that his vision
wasn't even better, but Mousse was grateful.

He thought his brain would explode if he could see any better. He
didn't know how other people could stand it.

There was so much *detail* in the world. Not even his latest pair of
glasses had been strong enough to show him what he was seeing now.
He couldn't get his brain to process it.

There were all these things that he had known only because his fingers
had told him so - that hair was made up of millions of fine strands,
that trees had thousands of separate and distinct leaves. He'd only
had his ears, before, to tell him that rain was made of thousands of
tiny drops of water.
He kept getting caught up in little moments of sight; Akane turning
her head and making her black hair dance around her shoulders, a
sunbeam breaking through the clouds and beaming light down onto the
earth, wind blowing over a field of grass and he could *see* all the
blades bending and waving before the rush of air.

His friends were getting used to snapping their fingers in front of
his face.

They didn't mind.

Mousse had agreed to Akane's restaurant plan almost before she'd
finished telling him about it, more than happy at the idea of being
the cook. He'd always secretly liked that part best; it was much
nicer than dealing with irritable customers. He accepted Akane's
word that she *enjoyed* being the wait-person. She could do that
all she wanted to.

Ranma was slated for deliveries, Ryoga wanted to keep to his wandering
ways but promised support when they needed it and to bring back unusual
recipes.

Life was almost perfect.

Would have *been* perfect, if it hadn't been for Shampoo.

The lavender-haired maniac had followed Ranma one evening to see him
meeting the other three in the park, where they'd talked for about a
half an hour and then reverted to being teenagers and started chasing
fireflies. She'd been stunned when she'd seen Mousse - it had taken
her a few minutes to realize the lovely boy with the braid and the
blue jeans was her former suitor - and then she'd realized he was
chasing and catching the little lightening bugs with perfect ease.

And he wasn't wearing his glasses. They weren't even pushed to the
top of his head like usual.

He could see.

That changed a few things. She'd gone running back to Cologne and
the Nekohanten, where the two Amazon women had a long discussion that
resulted in Shampoo appearing at the park the next day - she'd followed
Ranma again - and informing them that as the future leader of her
tribe, she was allowed as many ‘airens' as she felt she needed. And
she had decided to take both of them back with her.

She was a little insulted at the way they rolled on the ground,
howling with laughter.

She'd tried ordering Mousse to stop and get up, and was angry when
he didn't obey. She'd aimed a kick at him and Ranma had blocked it,
then calmly threatened to rip her head off.

Something in his tone made her listen, for once.

She hadn't given up, though she *had* refrained from physical violence
against Mousse, even when he made her furious at his continued
disregard for her orders. She'd threatened to kick him out of the
tribe and he reminded her of the many times she and Cologne had told
him he was ‘useless' and ‘not worthy of being in their tribe' - he
considered himself no longer a member, anyway, so he didn't have to
listen to her.

Ranma had shouted with laughter at the dumbfounded look on her face,
then slid his arm through Mousse's and they'd strolled off together.

Shampoo had retreated, wondering if she was going to be able to come
up with a plan *good* enough to get both of the boys she now wanted.


*


Ranma and Mousse didn't care about Shampoo and her plans.

They went back to enjoying firsts.

The first time they shared a bed all night, although they did nothing
more than some groping.

The first time they called the new apartment over the new restaurant
‘home.'

The first time the kisses and touching after they were alone had led
to something a little more serious...

That, by the way, was Ranma's absolute favorite first.

They had been painting the still-empty restaurant, trying to get it
ready before the new month started. They were a little tired and
covered with streaks and splotches of paint. Mousse had used the
shower first - when Ranma came out after he was finished washing off,
his koi was sitting on the bed, wearing a loose pair of pajama bottoms,
his head bent over to brush the ‘underneath' part of his hair.

The long black strands were like a waterfall of silk, so long it
puddled on the floor. His elegant, pale-skinned back was curved
slightly, showing the clean, smooth lines of his muscles. The motion
of his strong, slender arms was mesmerizing.

Ranma had stared for thirty-seven long, slow seconds.

Then he pounced.

Mousse went from sitting on the edge of the bed to flat on his back
on the mattress, with an enthusiastic whirlwind attached to his mouth,
about six dozen hands exploring his body. He returned the favor with
some exploration of his own.

They both got carried away, caught up in a blissful fog of passion.
When they had come back to themselves - oddly enough, at almost the
exact same moment - Ranma's towel had been thrown across the room and
Mousse's baggy pants were around his ankles.

And they were grinding against each other in a *very* interesting way.

They'd blinked at one another for a moment, thought it over, and kept
right on going.

Then tried a few other things.

Later, they lay curled up together like sleepy puppies, Ranma stroking
Mousse's hair while Mousse drew circles on Ranma's stomach with a lazy
finger. Both of them were perfectly content - neither felt any desire
to talk.

If they *had* spoken, they would have discovered they were thinking
pretty much the same thoughts.

That this was the best they'd ever felt.

The only time they had no trace of loneliness inside them.

And they weren't going to worry about the past or the future or the
crazy people who wanted to rule their lives.

Who cared if they didn't know whether their story had a happy ending?

They had food, shelter, each other, and the certainty that it was
going to have *some* sort of ending, and whatever it was, they would
be together.

They were happy enough for now.

~owari~

These things always I must place;
The taste of your lips
The sound of your voice
The shape of your face...

- T.D. Rowe
- from the poem ‘And They Blind Me'

A/N: Mousse's eye condition in this fic is a real condition. I don't
know the medical name of it - it's about six yards long and would make
a dandy tongue twister - but the six year old child my cousin adopted
last year has it. It is caused by malnutrition during the formative
years and can usually be corrected with surgery. Without surgery,
your eyes get more painful and your vision gets worse until eventually
you go blind. The surgery is usual outpatient and about 80% successful.
The sooner it is done, the better. I thought it was easily a
condition Mousse could develop, it also usually occurs when the
eyes are already weak. As uncaring for Mousse as the ‘Amazons'
are portrayed in this anime/manga, I can stretch my imagination
enough to see them neglecting a less-than-perfect child to the point
he would be malnourished.