|neviot (e_witness) wrote,|
@ 2007-02-13 21:21:00
|Entry tags:||drabble, fanfiction, gravitation, writing|
I really don't think fan fiction counts for Creative Writing class assignments; it stinks suspiciously of cheating. Rather than having to create your own characters and conflicts, those are handed to you on a silver platter and your only responsibility is to pull it together with somewhat understandable language. But I did it anyway.
Situation: Tohma decides he and Eiri need a heart-to-heart about Shuichi and drops by Eiri’s flat uninvited. Eiri is just pissed off.
E: What the fuck are you doing?
T: Ah…Eiri-san, don’t worry your pretty head about it. I am fixing your lock.
E: It’s not broken.
T: That’s what you always say.
E: The idiot mutt broke the whole goddamn door last night, so I called the mechanics in this morning.
T: Well, if that’s the case, I brought you some breakfast.
E: What do you want?
T: Must I devise an elaborate excuse every time I want to see my brother-in-law?
E: Don’t come by uninvited again.
T: And why would you make such a demand? Will I see something you’d rather I not see?
E: Do you not understand privacy?
T: Does “the idiot mutt?”
E: You can’t be jealous, brother.
T: That is an enormous accusation, Eiri-san. Donuts?
E: Tohma, I’ll come by the studio later for lunch. Not now.
T: Eiri, if you ever need anything…
E: I know. Thank you.
T: Tell that “mutt” of yours to stop peeking through the window curtains. The press would be on you in seconds.
E: I can take care of it, Tohma.
The door was thin and elegant, not made for any sort of protection. But it was also very clearly locked, and I had no desire to destroy something of such rare taste. Eiri continued to surprise me even after all these years.
Lowering myself to peer in at the old-fashioned keyhole, I reached for the matchbox Mika had slipped into my back pocket this morning. I thanked God for bringing that woman into my life. She was more of a challenge than anything Eiri and I could dream up, but I’ve learned to just be grateful she usually took my side.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Caught. I rocked back on my heels and directed a smile up at the angry amber eyes that so resembled my wife’s. “Ah…Eiri-san,” I greeted, “don’t worry your pretty head about it. I am fixing your lock.” My fingers closed around the matches.
His tie was fashionably askew, and for two enjoyable seconds, I entertained the notion of straightening it for him, before his voice interrupted. “It’s not broken.” He hadn’t spared a glance for the door.
I stood, brushing my suit back into place and keeping my voice light. “That’s what you always say.”
Eiri frowned heavily, his gaze finally running from mine. “The idiot mutt broke the whole goddamn door last night, so I called the mechanics in this morning.”
His less-than-affectionate nickname for his housemate did not fool me. No matter how much he tried to escape it, the telltale softening in his eyes spoke volumes for anyone who had led him through the darkest years of his teenage life. I let the matches drop, splintering against the floor. “Well, if that’s the case, I brought you some breakfast.” I held up the paper bag I’d picked up at the breakfast shop around the corner.
He swung back to me, as hard as granite again. “What do you want?”
My eyes widened innocently. “Must I devise an elaborate excuse every time I want to see my brother-in-law?”
“Don’t come by uninvited again.”
Oh Eiri, Eiri. When will you realize you can’t shut yourself off from me? “And why would you make such a demand? Will I see something you’d rather I not see?”
He took a step, his right shoe landing on the broken matches I’d scattered on the floor. “Do you not understand privacy?”
“Does ‘the idiot mutt?’”
Wariness flashed in his eyes. Perhaps I had gone a little too far. “You can’t be jealous, brother.”
His deliberate emphasis on our relationship warned me I had indeed spoken carelessly. He had blinded himself to so much right under his nose that I sometimes took it for granted that he would never notice. “That is an enormous accusation, Eiri-san,” I said finally, raising an eyebrow at him. I offered the brown bag as a truce. “Donuts?”
Some of the tension drained from him, and his hands slipped into his pockets. “Tohma, I’ll come by the studio later for lunch. Not now.”
It was a concession, however small, and even I could only push him so much. “Eiri, if you ever need anything—”
“I know,” he cut me off, his shoulders stiffening again, but he forced himself to relax. His casual veneer was very realistic. “Thank you.”
My smile came easily, equally realistic. “Tell that ‘mutt’ of yours to stop peeking through the window curtains. The press would be on you in seconds.”
He turned to look, and despite himself, emotions leaked out. But when he pulled out his key and unlocked his elegant door, his words to me were admirably controlled, “I can take care of it, Tohma.” His door shut behind him, and I left the donuts outside his door even though he only drinks coffee in the mornings.