Eishi’s legs draped under Rei’s ludicrously colourful coffee table. A small part of him, bitter from socialization and the busy work day, noted the utter lack of grace he was displaying, and on a first visit no less. The rest of him, thoroughly satiated by the meal just devoured, dismissed such outlandish claims on the basis that, ‘I do what I want’ and the added note that Rei was nowhere to be seen, and thus his dignity in no more danger than it was typically. In the orange glow of Rei’s sitting room, with the sound of cartoon violence and Rei washing dishes (You’re my guest, Eishi! Let me handle it!) he fancied himself content.
Infectious lethargy radiated from his belly. Slowly, as if asking permissions, his head made contact with the soft material of the couch. In a moment of abject calm, Eishi felt himself begin to doze. A long day it’d been, the ornery sort that sipped greedily of his willpower and patience. But, if the night’s events were any indication, it would likely end on a high note.
And as if cross with the very accusation, his phone hummed indignantly from the glass of the coffee table. The tone was a default he’d never thought to change, that almost inevitably resulted in every mother in the vicinity trudging through over-large purses. Note to self, he grumbled to himself as he willed the device off to no avail, pick a new ring tone.
Now came the deliberation between mind and stomach, a wondrous tug-o-war of, Pick up the phone, you ass, and Let it ring. The battle raged tremendously as the tone cycled once more, and by the third ring the former had won with a sneak attack in the form of recollection.
They matter! Every call matters.
It was cheating, really, even if it was against himself. Rei’s words whispered softly in his tired ears, faded even more from the time that had passed since their agony-ridden birth. Humming against the angry knot in his stomach, Eishi conceded defeat, answering with a harrumph and “Hello?” No reasonable person would be calling so late, he thought bitterly, licking remaining wounds from the mental battle. In no way was he prepared to speak to telemarketers when he could scarce move. He pressed the phone to his ears and listened closely for the voice.
“Uhm, hi, Bird Black?”
Well, now, he hadn’t been expecting that. Shock stole away with his fatigue and buried it under the cushions. In its place bred a healthy layer of confusion as his eyes darted between the caller ID and the closed kitchen door. It made no sense to his tired eyes, even less to his exhausted ears, and he very much believed he deserved a break. A minute at least, and he’d deal when he was more of sorts. He wasn’t greedy.
“Rei,” he said in measured tones as he struggled to piece together what was happening. His fingers were a comforting press on the bridge of his nose, “You’re literally in the next room over.”
A breath that likely was supposed to pass for a laugh, “Humour me, Eishi,” said Rei with a practiced ease. The undercurrents of a plea spiked through despite the best intentions for nonchalance. A dash of curiosity added to the mix of tired confusion.
Eishi could just make out a dark spot in the circular window of the kitchen door, obscured by the distance and the awkwardness of the angle. Yes, he affirmed, Rei was still in the kitchen, likely pressed up against the door. Or at least, he believed it to be Rei. The distance did no favours in that regard; it could very well have been someone entirely different and he’d be none the wiser. He squinted at it with the phone a cautious arm away.
His better judgement suffered quietly, the sole survivor of the ‘drop the phone’ faction. But again came the onslaught of memories, quiet weaponry with deadly precision. Every call matters, they crooned, picking at his defenses till he’d brought the phone back to his ear. Eventually, thought he as he breathed in slowly, eventually he’d start to ignore them.
“Bird Black’s Pizza Place,” he began with a deadpan drawl, “may I take your order?”
The door to the kitchen erupted with movement and the door slammed open with an abysmal squeak (so it was Rei, he noted). “Eishi!” came the exasperated hiss, “Be serious!”
Eishi, being more polite in manner, covered the mouth of his phone before talking. He looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding decisively, “You’re absolutely right.” said with the most patient monotone, and he reached instead for one of the decorative fruits on the equally garish coffee table. “Hello, police? Yes, I’m a radio host for a local station--someone has my personal number that shouldn’t.”
Rei might’ve been glaring, he couldn’t tell. So he continued with his conversation. “No sir, we’re not on air, I’m calling via banana.”
He heard the sigh as Rei stomped closer, “Plantain.” he corrected, settling beside him.
“Excuse me, sir, he’s now correcting my knowledge of banana shaped fruits,” a careful pause. Eishi turned to his boss with a quick nod, “He says you’re a monster.”
He scoffed into the banana (plantain!), his attention solely on the imaginary sheriff on the other side. “Oh,” he said, his voice remaining cautiously morose as he absorbed every bit of made-up detail, “Well, alright then. Thank you.”
Somewhere between being a monster and the end of the call, Rei had filched a pillow and cradled it in his arms. “Well?” he asked, propping up his legs, “What did they say?”
“They’d’ve taken the case if I’d called on a Banana phone,” Eishi pronounced slowly, reclining back onto the dark of the couch until his head was cradled by the leather. Free from his grasp, the fruit landed on the floor with a dull thud. “Plantains are out of their jurisdiction.”
Rei shifted, a gentle lilt to his voice, “a darn shame.”
Eishi hummed in quiet agreement before casting his eyes back to his own phone. Relief took the hitch off his shoulders as the screen blinked back at him, the default background brazen and without the white numbers telling him how much data he’d wasted without talking. Nonetheless, he pressed the device to his ears and a finger to his lips, “I have another call,” he explained quietly when Rei’s head tilted to the side.
“Hello, caller,” and he ignored Rei’s quiet gasp. Bird Black had a reputation, after all, and one that he wasn’t too keen on sacrificing just because it was--he squinted at the letters on his phone--ten o’clock at night. “Not sure how you got this number, but, what’s on your mind?”
When he looked over at the absence of a response, Rei was staring at him. The plantain-phone hung dumbly in his hands. The minute of silence stretched uncomfortably as Rei pressed the thing to his ear. He shuffled until he was looking away from Eishi, towards the T.V. and the shaving stick ad it was broadcasting. “Uhm, Bird Black?” he tried again, and Eishi felt nervousness roll off his back in waves, “I’ve had kind of a tough few weeks.”
They returned heavily, suddenly twisting knots into his spine as he darted his gaze towards the bookshelf, the doors, the potted plant near the kitchen, “Is that so?” he managed despite the tightness in his throat. He coughed to clear it.
Rei nodded, continuing, “Yeah... family issues.”
“Family issues,” Eishi repeated, solemn.
Another nod. “It’s not all bad,” Rei rectified, his voice pitching slightly and the words coming with a quick bounce to them, “I talked to my dad.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. We,” Rei paused, shuffling until he was comfortable, “We needed it, I think.”
“That’s good.” said he, playing with the fraying edge of his sweater as silent relief took the place of muddled tension. The couch greeted him warmly, and he allowed himself to relax. Rei shifted to accommodate the movement so that they faced the television and bookcases together.
A quiet, happy, hum. “Yeah.” Rei said, and he tilted his head back so his hair tickled the edge of Eishi’s shoulder, “But I called to say thanks to a friend,” a pause as he turned back to face him, and his better judgement, somehow still kicking after all the assaults, kind of regretted not having his glasses with him, “he knows what he’s done.”
At this, Eishi rolled his eyes, wise to the mischievous face that would have gone with such a comment, “I’m sure he does. Thanks for calling.”
Monetary bets remained off the table if they had the pleasant misfortune of playing with Rei. His poker face, a perpetual thing of calm bemusement, had invoked legends among the other radio hosts. It permeated tearoom whispers between breaks. Rumour had it he'd actually won the station in a high stakes mano-e-mano battle to bankruptcy. Others conspired that honeyed words had stolen the building from right under the previous owner’s nose.
Eishi, however, fancied himself somewhat immune to Rei’s charms. So when his boss came to him with heart and tickets in hand, his first response was, of course, a resounding no.
“You need to leave!” plead Rei with a smile that made the moon green with envy. More a fan of gossamer clouds, Eishi resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Paper documents spread in a collage on his desk and atop of that mess sat a sheaf of brochures. Barely-disguised excitement left Rei fidgeting in the seat opposite his. Weighing worst case scenario’s and the ETA for the pizza delivery guy, Eishi swallowed down his better judgement. “Okay, I’ll bite.” he pronounced, leaning forward to grab at one of the rust-coloured sheets, “What do you mean?”
A petulant huff and Rei readjusted his pin-straight posture to a slightly more relaxed variation thereof with no apparent loss of energy. “Come with me. We’ll find music, see sights--have you ever seen the museums? They have the most amazing aviation collection--”
Temptation almost squeezed the yes from his throat. It was forced down as Eishi regarded his friend and the puppy-dog eyes he flashed.
“--And the food,” Rei continued, an unhindered locomotion of tantalizing descriptions that plucked mercilessly at his resolve, “My goodness. The festival’s all day on a Friday, but the scene Eishi, the scene. Musicians everywhere. It’s the chance of a lifetime!”
Rei-induced affirmation danced on the tip of his tongue. He almost accepted, almost. But a niggling suspicion ground it to a halt, refortified his walls. Eishi narrowed his eyes, “Is this supposed to be a ‘Sagisawa and Son’ thing?”
Rei’s smile stuttered.
Bingo.
“It could be a Rei and Eishi thing if you let it?” offered however-tall of curls just as the buzzer shrilled of an arrival. Rei sent him his biggest, most charming smile.
Eishi indulged in the long awaited eyeroll as he exited the room.
--
A month later, his day off began with an annoyance that prickled at the base of his neck. Eishi attempted to roll his shoulders around it, distracting himself by tearing through sheaf after sheaf of marking.
The mess from his desk had been transposed onto the station kitchen. Assigning ticks or circles to the papers was more or less grunt work he’d been co-opted to assist with last minute while his prof tackled more pressing projects from more advanced classes. He forced his mind to remain focused while his hands worked, pointedly ignoring the mahogany door that led to Rei’s office.
Away from him, the station continued to bustle. Robin waved at him as she entered for her shift, her smile small and polite. Later, Fiona beelined for the coffeemaker in the 10-odd minute transition period. She didn’t regard him as she entered (he supposed he was to Fiona as death was to Gertrude--present, but usually ignored), but there was a fresh cup of coffee in his fav --er-- preferred mug when she left. He’d return the favour with a thing of dark chocolate.
An hour into marking and his mind began to wander. To schoolwork, the impending end of term. To station work and the newest crop of writings (the month’s theme was Winter Wonderland).To certain knowitall bosses and that damned closed door.
What was really annoying about Rei was that he’d somehow known. He’d known. And Eishi knew this because following the initial proposal, while he thoroughly sussed the venue and festival for any nasties or hidden bits, Rei had all the answers down to the tickets. Rei indulged in telling him everything, from venues to rumoured appearances, to icky folklore of the place.
“All we need now is to go!” Rei had laughed the night before while Eishi chopped onions and cabbages and somehow turned a salad into croquettes.
“Who the hell is ‘we’?” he’d snapped, slamming down with more force than necessary as if to compensate for the absence of the stuff in his own voice.
Hell, even the hotel had been snagged in advance, a ridiculously fancy sort that probably rated in diamonds or obsidian rather than mere, plebeian, gold stars. The prickling feeling--annoyance, definitely annoyance-- spread to his throat and ears, arresting them in an itchy warmth. It was totally a Sagisawa and Son thing, he’d read the itinerary, knew it’d be a Sagisawa and Son and Weird Glasses Kid thing if he agreed to come.
(He could hear it now: This is my son, Rei. This is his third wheel.)
Ugh. The thought wrought horrors on his already flimsy resolve and his stomach stewed in eschew of the feeling. He pressed his palms to his eyes and relished the cold till white static stars filled his vision.
He could still leave, right? Go home, actually enjoy his day off?
Rei would clue in later that he’d -- almost! Almost had!-- a change of heart, probably. The over-kind tact that plagued him would stop him from saying anything till long after the trip. He could go and nothing would change except Rei.
Who--by the by--still hadn’t emerged from the mahogany doors and it was three-pee-ehm in the afternoon.
A quiet part of him registered that, Hey, bud, you could’ve sent a text, just as another regarded the garish ‘W’ on the countertop calendar, nearest Gertrude and the ugly, tawny, pot it stayed in.
Meeting day.
He mightn’t even be there.
Fatigue rested heavily on his temples.
Static splintered back to coloured specks and then again to a blurry variety of the white that foamed on the oak table. Tired fingers pressed the bridge of his nose as he began making estimates of how long it would take for him to pack up and be gone before--
“Eishi?”
He pinched his nose (nope, not a nightmare) and bit back a groan.
Slowly, too slowly, not slowly enough, Rei crossed the distance between the door and the table. Then came small talk as he peered over Eishi’s shoulder at the lab assignments he’d toiled over.
Words more or less drifted over his head as Rei recited routine topics. “Hi Eish’, it’s your day off, why are you here instead of getting some rest? Oh, is that marking? Damn, Dr. Saitou’s working you hard. Haha. Did you know I’m going on a trip? Of course you did, I asked you, I’m probably upset about that but I won’t say anything because I’m not an awful human being” --paraphrase courtesy of his mind.
At some point, he wasn’t quite sure when, he’d risen from the chair. Rei remained slightly crouched despite having ceased what he’d been saying. Worry quirked his eyebrows. A dry realisation noted that, for once, Eishi was the taller of the two. Eishi inhaled, once for luck and twice for oxygen, and then he was speaking.
“Listen,” he commanded, taking just a little too much pride in the way Rei flinched, “If we’re thinking of making the best of this trip, then we’re leaving in the morning and getting there by afternoon.”
Saucers would’ve envied the size of Rei’s eyes, the subtle gape of his jaw. Breathing, once, twice, Eishi continued, “And understand that I’m not doing any father-son bonding whatever, because I’m not a son, in case you didn’t notice, and your family business is yours.”.
The table brushed his hip and papers, disturbed, fell. He felt his fingers cold against his arms and straightened his back, “Is that fair?” he asked, biting against an apology lurking in the back of his throat.
Rei nodded up at him, his mouth still slightly agape.
“That being said,” Eishi continued, satisfied, directing his gaze instead to the percolating coffee maker, “I look forward to going on this trip with you.”
From the corner of his eyes he could see Rei’s lips pressed together, the crack of a smile spreading at the edges.
--
They spent the night before leaving in Rei’s house. His bags were piled on the livingroom floor-turned-loading dock. Eishi settled back on a beanbag in the absence of Rei’s over-excited mountain of fluff he passed for a dog. Discarded take out boxes completed the look.
The day before Disaster, he’d call it. Maybe take and send a picture of it to Kamoda when the encyclopedia of things to be packed had been downsized. He recounted the items to himself,
“Credit card, camera, gift cards, pepper spray--”
A confused call from one of the bedrooms. “Why would you need pepper spray?”
“--lock, key, the first aid kit, and a blanket and pillow.”
“I can’t find my shampoo.”(“Which one?”)”The peach one--it’s smaller? Came with a carry baggy even?”
“It’s at my place.” (“Really?”) “You left it there last time, never took it back.”
“That was a month ago!”
“And my hair thanks you muchly.”
Rei gasped, scandalized.
--
A gleeful tune tap-tapped on the rim of the steering wheel. “So,” Rei said, checking over his shoulder for traffic, “think we’ll get there in by dinnertime?”
Eishi pointedly-not-pointedly shot a glare at Rei, who had the audacity, the absolute nerve, to be awake and chatty at seven in the morning.
Wait, no.
They’d--no, not that, because it bloody well wasn’t true--Rei, had woken at around five and had proceeded to drag him out of bed. Because, and cursed be his past self from a month ago for doing this, they’d agreed to leave early and be on country roads before rush hour hit. Spring fever had possessed Rei to take the scenic route despite the world of green only barely peeking out from winter coats.
Scenes thus far included Rei’s apartment, the main road, Rei’s apartment (the sequel starring Rei’s prodigal suitcase), a drive through cafe (which, really, was a sight to behold), and now the backroads leading out to the wild blue (brown? vaguely yellow?) yonder.
Eishi cradled his coffee while flipping absently through the radio channels on Rei’s fancy-ass rich people dash. Par for course, the car really was more tech than vehicle. One of the buttons might’ve turned it to a submarine if he pressed it in the right sequence.
Probably.
Eventually, Rei lapsed into appreciated stretches of silence as the car jittered along. Practicing partial caution--he half expected Rei’s gangly arms to strike at any moment, swatting him away from the console in tune with Gwen Stefani’s Hollaback Girl-- Eishi turned to a station more familiar.
They’d tuned in for storytime, apparently. Rei tilted his head toward him, eyebrow raised in an unspoken question. He responded with a shrug, a similarly unspoken answer, before opting to listen to Irene’s excited recount.
“--Was the MEANEST lookin’ fella I ever saw! Like, six-foot-ten, 375 pounds of pure spite-on-earth. And he looks at us with his eyes one kind and ‘es like ‘What’rey’doin’ere?’” His coworker’s voice dropped to a gruff mumble before continuing with the same laughing lilt, “So, Red n’ I grab the stuff and book it, because if Man Mountain doesn’t want us there, we’re not stayin’--ain’t it right, Red?”
The sound effect that played was unrecognizable, somewhere between a foghorn and a bagpipe. Eishi imagined the incline of Takayama’s eyebrows, the slightest ghost of a smile. He pictured Irene’s eyes flashing with mirth as she gesticulated, oversized headphones shifting with every movement.
Rei was laughing from the driver’s seat, his hand crooked about his mouth while the other kept firmly on the wheel. Little huffs of air punctuated the subtle shake of his shoulders as fair hair curtained his face.
Eishi looked away, pocketing a comment about distracted driving. He took a sip of his coffee, totally not hiding a grin of his own. The recount resumed,
“We get to the boat, havin’ just out run the Megalodon,” she said, and he could almost see her leaning back, as if tomb raiding were normal as the changing seasons, “We’re feeling pretty good about ourselves. Exhausted, hungry, damp, but pretty good. We get set to go, strappin’ everything in, callin’ Rene t’ say we’re getting back. But the radio’s busted and the engine keeps makin’ weird noises.”
And then she paused and Eishi’s coffee hitched in his throat.
“You ever get that feeling that something’s about to go wrong?”
He forced down the liquid. Rei tightened his grip on the wheel. Irene’s voice dropped low, conspiratory.
“Red gets the boat going, but he keeps lookin’ back at the island. I’m feelin’ the same sorta vibe, like somethin’s not quite right. We agree, collectively, to get the hell outta there before ol’ Meggie gets back on our tail.”
“For a minute there, it looked like we were in the clear.”
She was silent a full beat where the air seemed to still.
And then, all at once, her voice was loud with vibrant animation, a roar in contrast to the whisper that preceded it, “but ol’ Meggie ain’t goin’ down without a fight! Allasudden there’s this THUMP--”
Rei’s car careened to the side, trampling bump bump bump over loose gravel and stones before a screeching halt. Eishi ricocheted towards the upholstered door. His coffee burped scalding liquid onto his hands and trousers. He pressed the offended digits to his mouth, blowing softly against hisses of pain.
“What the hell, Rei?” Urgency outweighed the anxious knot in his throat. Rei was pressed against the grey seat, shoulders hunched with his hands knuckled white on the black steering wheel. His eyes were trained on the rearview mirror, to the dark asphalt expanse.
Eishi risked a glance of his own, fearing the worst. He deflated, slightly, from relief when he found naught but a plastic bag making lazy trails on the backroad. When he looked back Rei was rubbing tired circles into his eyelids. He bit out a sigh and Eishi felt the relief-anger-fear combo press down in favour of a slack worry.
Rei regarded him when his shoulders relaxed and his breathing became even. Not stilled, not yet, but the tremors had mostly subsided. His mouth was screwed into a thin line, a splotch of red on his cheeks, “Sorry,” he muttered, breaking eye contact to lean back, “‘thought I hit something.”
Eishi mirrored the action, staring up through the sunroof at the overcast sky.
The remaining feelings ebbed till only worry remained and the blinking noise of the hazard lights. Words raced through his head, to his tongue, but he remained frustratingly mute. Form was not given to his essays of thought. Eventually, after much too long of silence, Eishi settled on asking, “How much sleep did you get?”
The inadequacy of the words burned on the tip of his tongue, stayed that way till Rei sighed and said “None.”
Oh.
Oh.
He clicked his tongue in time with the click of the opening door. Gravel crunched underfoot along with dirt until he came to the boot. Chill winds accompanied him as he dug for the black fleece blanket, as he dropped it unceremoniously into Rei’s lap.
“You’re sleeping,” Eishi stated, gesturing to the open back seat. He rolled his eyes and shivered against the cold as Rei stared at him in silent protest. “It's not charity, you ass,” he said tiredly, caffeine cravings renewing with irritating vigor, “you're driving when we come back.”
On a regular day, the dispute would stretch till Rei whittled him to maybe a half-way point. But the silence with which Rei exited was testament enough to his current status. Eishi slipped into the driver's seat but kept equally mum.
In place of protest Rei settled instead into the passenger seat. The blanket framed him at his shoulders, draped down to cover his hiked-up feet. There wasn’t challenge in his eyes as he stared, but Eishi clicked his tongue nonetheless.
Ass.
--
When he’d thoroughly rested (after he’d ceased fake sleeping and had lapsed into soft snores with the chair reclined as far back as comfortable), Rei instructed him towards a “hidden road” and a “big surprise”.
Eishi noted that the last people to have seen him alive were probably the waiters and waitresses at the restaurant they’d stopped at, and that his phone had a panic function if he didn’t check in every twenty-five minutes. The pepper spray was tucked deep in the pockets of his suitcase, but if the need arose, he said, he’d be able to get it in a minute.
Rei called his bluff and told him to take a left where the road didn’t seem to follow. Hesitantly, stupidly, curiously, he obliged.
A declaration from Karasuma Eishi is as followed:
He will not tell Sagisawa Rei (Bossman, Lil’ Rei Rei, Balderdash Extraordinaire) that the expanse of rippling blue took his breath away. He will not tell him that the smell of water prickled each of his senses till they were taut and alive. He will not tell him about the picture he’d kept in the loose board underneath his bed for most of his elementary school career.
For the good of the world, for the good of his eardrums and healthy constitution. And truly, for the good of his boss, whose heart would likely explode from glee, he would shoulder the burden by himself.
The scene still commanded his attention when Rei saddled next to him with a grin thoroughly self-satisfied. “Did you get the pictures you wanted?” he asked, though his eyes remained trained on the cyan sky and the blue-green water.
Rei hummed in place of an answer with an infectious glee radiating off him in sheets. Eishi sidestepped the onslaught and returned to the car. The picture was static in his mind. The trees, the water, the gossamer clouds, and the asshole grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Re: Rei tries to talk in the middle of a busy cafe.
@desfraisespartout XD
Rei appeared to have been run over by what looked like a very well-dressed bulldozer, which was to say he’d never seen someone look good while seeming edges away from fraying at the seams. But he maneuvered his disguise to cover his face fully; they were incognito for now, and Rei couldn’t know of their whereabouts.
Irene perused the menu to his left in the big red booth, stuck between a double-chocolate explosion pancake and a “Heart Throb Crepe”; in her words “an impossible choice”. If he hadn’t been there to see the conviction with which she’d bargained for (demanded) (threatened) allowance to come before knowing the venue, he mightn’t have believed she was there for Rei at all. Her casualness was enviable, though he honestly believed the “Bye Bye Butterfly” French toast to be the superior option.
Across from him Marilyn shifted her repertoire of glare-capable sharp objects. Daggers were replaced with surgical instruments, dissecting the air with such cold precision that Eishi felt a chill. He’d jumped when he heard utensils from a nearby table clatter to the floor, was surprised when he found it was a little boys’ fork and not some sort of scalpel.
But the distraction served to soften Marilyn’s gaze with a healthy polish of worry. “Nervous?” she asked, and he knew he bristled in response from the way she leaned forward and squeezed his hand as though he were the one in need of reassurance. “Don’t be,” came the quiet addition, “Our boy’s got it.”
Eishi scoffed, “Of course he does.”
His gaze shifted to where Rei now sat alone on the two-person table he’d ordered. Something about the open space vexed him, as though it had no right to be there. He willed it to fill. The sad one slightly overdressed rubbing wounds into his fingers wasn’t Rei, neither was the one with wide eyes fearfully huddled around Panik the plush.
“Of course he does.” he said again.
--
Rei fidgeters had suffered a long period of disuse, so he hadn’t been sure the tiny metal bands would still fit around his fingers. They did, which was great, because he’d wrecked his entire room in a hyper-fixated rage looking for them, then decimated his wardrobe trying to find an outfit that worked and didn’t completely show that he’d rather be cuddled with Panik and Daniel Powter’s ‘You had a Bad Day’ on repeat.
But! That was before he’d stepped into the cute cafe, promptly noticed his father’s absence along with thirteen-thousand other things, and forced himself to sit down at the prompting of a very kind waitress. What else had he to do? He’d taken a bus of all things (Marilyn’s idea) and only enough cash to pay for both meals (Eishi’s idea) plus a tip for whatever poor individual had to deal with the looming unpleasantness.
(What bad ideas)
(He should’ve listened to Irene)
(He’s never telling her that)
(How badly was he sweating?)
The food was tantalizing even as he was guided to his seat, and the waitresses grinned at him with a dizzying warmth--he might have gained another place to add to his growing list of Tsubame-influenced haunts.
The sun was shining, the fan was going, and the chatter around him filtered into white noise.
He alternated between playing with the textured metal, reading and re-reading the menu, and pointedly not looking at the door every time someone entered the establishment. He’d almost established a routine when in came the guest of honour, fifteen minutes to time.
The smart black business suit his father wore stuck out like a sore thumb against the pastels of the establishment. Awkward as always, he made short nods at the waitresses as they came toward him--was that tiny spasm supposed to be a wave? Oh, Dad.
After minutes of looking like a lost sheep--where were his glasses, anyway?--his father caught sight of him. Rei swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the traitorous prickle of anxiety that shot from his tummy up through his spine. He willed himself to wave back as his father swam against bodies of eating patrons.
But then came the moment when he actually got to the table, and the terrible realisation struck that he didn’t know where to go from there.
“Hi,” said a part of his brain that wasn’t frozen in mute panic.
“Hello,” his father responded, shifting into his seat. The space he filled seemed as though someone had taken a thick black brush and painted a line on a babyshower save the date. Rei blinked away dark spots at the edge of his vision.
Entrapping silence pulsed in beats, and a bubbly waitress released him in the form of asking what drinks they desired (Black tea with rose jam. Only one scoop please).
When she’d left, Rei pushed forward the over-colourful menu. “The,” he cleared his throat of the persistent lump that lodged against it, “there’re gluten-free and vegan alternatives and, uh,” his fingers traced over the gears of his fidget as if imprinting the shape to his memory, “I’d recommend the tea cakes.”
A curt nod, “Yes, of course,” and his father buried his face in the menu, somehow making placing an order seem a grandiose business deal. He seemed...well. Official voice in full blast, his hair coiffed to the side. Presentable, tell-tale markers of a long business day. Rei sighed, a fraction of anxiety eking away, replaced by something damp and uncomfortable he didn’t deign to name. He sought sanctuary in the flapjack portion of the menu.
“So,” his father began, and Rei had to stop himself from seeming shocked, “How’re...things?”
The menu was placed to the side and Rei mirrored the action, “Good,” he responded, his eyes catching on a milkshake-themed mascot that smiled shamelessly, “It’s been good. I’m in classes.” Echoes of corrections danced through his mind. I’ve been well, his father would have said, I’m enrolled in classes.
“Oh.”
His teeth grazed his tongue, “Yeah,” he nodded slightly.
“You live near here?”
He shook his head, no. In Eishi’s words, his apartment was a thirty minute bus ride away if the connections lined up as well as they had this morning and a lost cause if they didn’t. The campus wasn’t too far, though.
“How’s Mum been?”
“We haven’t talked.”
“Oh.”
“Hm.”
Silence.
His saviour returned with matching teacups and an extra thing of jam and tea for them both. She took their orders, politely ignoring the tension between them despite the way it cloyed to his body like tar.
Maybe it was all in his head; his father’s knuckles weren’t even tensed. He banished that prospect a bit more forcefully than he’d intended.
“Rei.”
“Hm?”
Attention shifted back to his father, and he took a minute to memorise the angle of his nose, the bags under his eyes, the worry lines that creased his forehead. His father’s gaze held for an ephemeral moment, so quick it seemed imagined, then relaxed. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, focusing instead on the pink highlight of the fine tea set. Rei regarded his own cup, squeezing comfort from the trembling warmth it emanated.
--
Minutes later and they’d stumbled onto the topic of business. Literally stumbled, because his father had dropped a business card on the table in an attempt to extract a handkerchief from his pocket.
“I struck a deal with a company not too long ago,” his father rambled, sounding less like a conversation and more like a briefing session. The urge to take notes came almost immediately, “it’s profitable, but there’s a lot of red tape involved.”
“Really?”
Another curt nod, “Everything needs be put through a damn sieve.” A black-clothed arm gestured sharply, as though waving off a particularly troublesome gnat, “It needs to be done.”
Rei smiled into his cup.
“You’re still doing the radio...thing?”
Rei ceased smiling.
“-eah. I am,” again he squeezed the ceramic cup. “I am,” he said, clearer now, drawing sprinkles of strength from the smorgasbord of meddling anxieties pooling in his stomach. The inevitable statement loomed; it was not proper for the son of a businessman to dabble in late night radio, but he had reasons and justifications and pleas that he’d--.
“Oh. Of course.”
That wasn’t disappointment that wasn’t disappointment thatwasnt--
His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of cold icecream sailing from the shoulder of his shirt down to the front of his jeans. A thank you graced his lips and he made a mental note to triple-tip the server, even as she flittered apologetically at the red stain.
--
It came off easily in hot water from the bathroom tap, but Rei lingered, pressing against the periwinkle walls and relishing in the icy coldness on his back. A dark puddle of mottled languages poured from his lips, bitter as he searched for a word to describe the ache in his heart. Confusion seemed the least vulgar of them.
The urge to skip out through the window conspired with the nebulous mass and almost swallowed him whole, but the day seemed dedicated against his free will, so out fire truck red doors he went.
His saviour-waitress babbled apologies as he exited the hallway, and reassurances took the place of the gratitude he felt, odd as it was. Dull aches simmered on the bends of his hands as he neared the table. Cold dread noosed around his neck, a rope made of unfinished conversations and muted words, but his path kept steady.
“I’m so foolish,” he heard his father mutter. A new platter had been made for him, sat steaming in his place, “I don’t know why I didn’t speak to him--It is not that simple. If you put it like that it is but--- I understand.” Dark eyes met his and his father quirked a poor specimen of a smile, “Rei! He’s back. Bye.”
The silence he’d escaped played executioner and pulled harshly at his noose of expectations. Rei allowed a pathetic crack of a smile. Pieces of this persona and that persona stitched together into a messy amalgamation. This wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t the way the day was meant to go. A practiced smile pushed aside his anxieties in favour of a bubbling stand-in to guide them home so he could explode in peace.
“Are you fine?”
“Yeah,” he wasn’t.
“Are you certain?”
“Uh-huh,” the noose tightened slightly, “I didn’t like the shirt much anyway, but it’ll clean off pretty quick when I get home.” The facade fell into the chair, clapped his hands together and and made some comment about the size of the pancakes.
“Rei.”
“Poppa,” and the crack grew till it showed the set of tombstones behind it, “we should eat before it gets cold!”
The meal progressed in silence. It was his lucky shirt.
--
The insistence of his father to pay for both meals--though that had been his role originally-- meant that he had enough money to hail a cab to take him to the station. But he, the masochist, remained present, waiting to send his father off. A black vehicle stood stark among the minivans and tiny civvy cars. Stealthy, he mused, exhaustion rolling away layers of wit.
Father emerged from the building shortly, his hands buried in his business trenchcoat and his shoulders tensed. An alias of a smile shined brightly as they walked to the awaiting car.
All he needed was the silence--then he could leave. All he needed was--
“Rei.”
Crap.
“Are you truly alright?”
His father’s worry prickled at his skin. As did regret, possibly. All covered in a thick gauze of business-like processions and clipped words.
He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. The feelings scraped at his insides-- incessant gnashing crumbled the persona even as it stood and walked and ate pancakes and lied that it was happy. It devoured enough that a speck of truth eked out. Not verbally, he didn’t trust himself with words quite yet, but in the form of a slight shake of his head.
No, he wasn’t okay.
Tension arrested his father’s fingers into a tight curl, “I…” he began, and of course the sentence veered courses, of course. “am in the country till the end of the month. If you’d like--.”
Rei nodded, avoiding eye contact. He’d think about it.
“Right.”
“Yeah.”
“Bye, son.”
“Bye, poppa.”
Not a minute had passed before he was again in the speckled-tile bathroom, his knees pressed against his chest and his dialtone reciting Eishi’s number.
--
He picked up before the first ring had finished.
“Eishi?”
“Hey.”
“I messed up.”
Silence. Marilyn craned toward the phone, and despite Irene’s careful indifference, there were thin lines along the table from where her nails had assaulted it.
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.”
Rei’s voice sounded hoarse, his words peppered by sniffles. They’d lost track of him after he’d walked his father out. A small part of him felt comforted that it was hoarse and not hollow, at least.
“Where are you?”
“Feedin’ cats,” Eishi responded, carefully batting away Marilyn’s hand from his device and Irene’s from his remaining rainbow gelatin, “The real protective type.”
A tremble of a chuckle took weights off his shoulders, “Really?”
“Really.”
Silence and lighter breathing.
“In a cafe? Seems it could be fun.”
How the hell had--
“I'll be right up.”
Feeling bashful and particularly exposed, Eishi nodded at Marilyn. She retrieved a heavy green blanket from the bag of ‘In Case of Emergency’ supplies. Panik sat a silent guard in the place that Rei belonged and Irene called the waitress over, ordering another serving of black tea--one scoop of rose jam only.
@desfraisespartout That idea about Rei and the plant made me laugh a lot and this was all I could think of XD
--
“You’re not putting that here, are you?”
Rei feigned a look of hurt, crossing his arm over his chest and slouching back as though wounded by the accusation, “I would never,” he said, doing exactly that. The potted plant landed with a thump.
Karasuma’s fingers steepled and Rei held his laughter in the face of the distilled, pouty, version of his disapproving glare. Memory warned of the quick shift between mild irritation and murderous. “It’s dead, throw it out,” he said, deadpan.
“It’s not dead!” Rei insisted, expertly ignoring the way leaves fell as if to say ‘yes, yes I am,’ “It’s a work in progress, Karasuma, can’t you see its potential?”
His hand clipped an edge and a branch fell, as though the statement was lost to the plant itself. Rei frowned as Karasuma’s eyes flicked upward from the dying plant, expectant. “I’m pruning,” Rei justified, picking up the sliver and placing it in the ceramic pot, “it’s good for them.”
“Prune it fully by putting it into the garbage.”
“That’s disposing, Karasuma.”
His dark haired coworker hummed, his gaze returning to the forlorn fauna. “Where’d you even pick that thing up?” Karasuma asked, finally rising from behind his desk where the sun filtered in through the open pane. He crossed over to the side table nearest the window and door that separated their offices. Rei grinned.
“Marilyn.”
“Throw it in combustables.”
“Karasuma.”
Rei sighed into his hand then trailed it through his curls--still in pristine condition despite the blistering heat. The current surge of defiance aside, Karasuma was typically a pushover despite being an incredible hardass. Inwardly he agreed--the plant looked as though it had a few too many roots in the dirt at this point. He doubted it would last till the end of the month, but it was a matter of principle at this point.
“As your boss, Karasuma--”
“--You can’t be serious--”
“--But I am!” and Rei flipped away a strand of hair that had gotten into his sight, “As your boss, I say we keep this plant,” he paused the way he’d seen Marilyn do at their Wednesday morning meetings, “I demand it.”
“Rei.”
He returned the look he was given.
“Eishi.”
Karasuma glared one last time, the one that danced on the fine line between joking and malicious. Rei held his breath, but kept his form, making mental contingencies for if he, truly, wasn’t okay with it.
