So has anyone suggested something like #Writevember where we all try to write a 50k novel in November, and just don't associate ourselves with Nanowrimo since they think an AI writing 50k words counts as "writing" a novel?
Writevember jours 9 à 11 - Kaebedo vampire AU (2508 mots)
Techniquement, ce n'est "que" 2.5k mots et pas 3k, mais j'ai fait un peu plus que 1K à chaque fois jusque maintenant donc je suis presque à 12K aujourd'hui...
Bref, un bout de fanfic Kaebedo !
Kaeya arbore un air perplexe alors qu’il observe le jeune homme blond actuellement en train de lui cuisiner un filet de thon et des légumes grillés.
Non pas que le plat ait l’air mauvais - au contraire, l’arôme qui s’en dégage lui met l’eau à la bouche. Le plat en question est sans aucun doute bien meilleur que les habituelles crêpes au fromage surgelées que Kaeya fait réchauffé dans sa poêle - et qui finissent toujours trop cuites d’un côté, et pas assez décongelées de l’autre.
Kaeya n’a jamais été un cordon bleu, mais son chef cuisinier du moment mériterait bien cette appellation.
Non, ce qui le rend perplexe, c’est l’enchaînement d'événements ayant conduit le jeune homme blond nommé Albedo à préparer à manger dans la cuisine de l’appartement de Kaeya. Parce que, il faut bien le dire, ce ne sont pas exactement des circonstances habituelles.
Tout a commencé hier soir - un vendredi soir comme un autre pour Kaeya, qui avait décidé de sortir prendre un verre avec Venti et Rosaria.
Un verre est devenu deux verres, puis trois, puis une tournée des bars -
Rosaria les avait ensuite abandonnés lors d’une pause clope - Kaeya est certain de l’avoir vu s'éloigner avec une jolie blonde - et Venti et lui avaient donc décidé de terminer la soirée dans une boîte de nuit. L’objectif de Venti était clairement de se faire payer à boire par d’autres personnes, et pas forcément pour ses talents au karaoké.
Kaeya quant à lui, n’avait simplement pas envie de rentrer chez lui et se retrouver seul avec lui-même, aussi la distraction apportée par la musique pop trop forte et les tentatives de drague de gens éméchés lui avait paru une bonne alternative.
Un vendredi soir habituel, en somme.
Et puis, entre deux reprises d’Avicii entrecoupées de Bob Sinclar, au détour d’un flash de lumière lors duquel deux types étaient prêts à en venir aux mains à cause d’une bière renversée, Kaeya s’était rendu compte que quelqu’un l’observait depuis l’autre côté de la piste de danse.
Un mec plutôt mignon, blond, pas très grand, avec de grands yeux de biche - et même pas de mascara pour les souligner !
Albedo - car c’était bien lui - s’était contenté d’un petit signe de tête gêné lorsqu’il s’était rendu compte que Kaeya l’avais vu, et serais probablement parti sans l’aborder si Kaeya, passablement éméché lui-même, n’avait pas décidé qu’il était ab-so-lu-ment nécessaire d’aller flirter immédiatement avec ce beau blondinet.
Il s’était donc trémoussé de manière plus ou moins sensuelle pour traverser la foule et retrouver son coup-de-foudre de la soirée - qui avait paru bien surpris d’être ainsi accosté.
Ils avaient discuté un peu, puis Albedo avait proposé qu’ils sortent un peu histoire de ne pas avoir à hurler pour s’entendre, et ayant perdu de vue Venti depuis longtemps, Kaeya n’avait pas hésité à accepter.
Une fois dans l’allée derrière le club, la conversation avait continué, quelques plaisanteries échangées, le courant passait plutôt bien - et puis rapidement, parler était devenu toucher, et Kaeya s’était mis à faire courir ses mains le long des bras d’Albedo, lui caresser le visage, le décoiffer en tirant sur ses tresses…
“Je dois vous avouer quelque chose,” avait commencé Albedo, le souffle court - ses lèvres ayant été mises à contribution par Kaeya.
“Quoi donc ?”
“Je suis un vampire. Et j’aurais souhaité savoir si vous me feriez l’honneur de me laisser me nourrir à vos veines.”
Kaeya se souvient avoir gloussé. Un vampire, et puis quoi encore ? Peut-être que le joli blondinet avait lui aussi quelques grammes d’alcool dans le sang, après tout.
“N’importe, si tu veux, mais embrasse-moi encore,” avait-il répondu sans plus y réfléchir - si Albedo était vraiment venu le vider de son sang, eh bien, qu’il rende au moins la chose agréable !
Et le jeune homme blond s’y était employé de manière fort assidue, embrassant Kaeya jusqu’à ce que celui-ci ait la tête qui tourne, et pendant que Kaeya prenait une grande inspiration pour ré-oxygéner son cerveau, il n’avait pas perdu de temps pour attaquer son repas.
Kaeya avait frissonné en sentant le souffle d’Albedo dans son cou, et n’avait pu réprimer un petit bruit embarrassant lorsque le jeune homme l’avait embrassé au coin de la mâchoire avec délicatesse.
Kaeya avait bien vu les deux canines lorsqu’Albedo avait ouvert la bouche ensuite - mais son esprit embrumé par l’alcool, et le fait d’être ainsi désiré par quelqu’un, avait éloigné tout sens du danger. Et d’ailleurs, la morsure en elle-même n’avait pas réellement fait mal - c’était plutôt une sensation similaire à celle d’un vaccin. Quelque chose qui s’enfonce dans la peau, ce qui est désagréable car on y est pas habitué, mais une fois passé cet instant on l’oublie vite.
Et ce qu’avait ensuite ressenti Kaeya lorsqu’Albedo avait commencé à laper son sang, c’était une sensation d’euphorie.
Une main enfouie dans ses mèches bleues, le vampire avait maintenu son cou selon un angle bien précis, l’autre main faisant des vas-et-viens distraits le long de ses flancs, et Kaeya avait de nouveau frissonné, cela faisait si longtemps qu’il n’avait pas été touché ainsi, comme quelque chose de délicat. Quelque chose ayant de la valeur. Et vampire ou non, Albedo était tout de même un corps chaud, si agréablement serré contre lui dans la fraîcheur de la nuit, et tout était parfait -
Pour quelques secondes.
Car Albedo s’était soudain arraché à lui avec une grimace, s’était détourné de Kaeya…
…Et avait prestement recraché son sang avec un haut-le-cœur.
La confiance en soi de Kaeya - déjà mise à mal - en avait pris un coup. Si même un vampire affamé ne voulait pas de lui…
“Mais quel poison vous êtes-vous donc injecté dans les veines ?!” Albedo avait grimacé.
D’abord, poser ce genre de question est malpoli.
Ensuite, la réponse était rien du tout, car la seule fois de sa vie où Kaeya avait fumé de la weed était la fête d’anniversaire des dix-sept ans de Diluc, au cours de laquelle son frère, poussé à l’action par un demi-joint mal roulé et trois canettes de Heineken, s’était jeté d’une fenêtre en pensant être devenu un hibou. Il s’était juste foulé le poignet, sa chute depuis le premier étage ayant été amortie par le buisson de camélia de leur père - qui n’avait pas été très content d’eux ce jour-là.
Surtout que pendant ce temps, Kaeya, qui avait ingéré à peu près la même chose, avait fait un “very bad trip” culminant en une crise d’anxiété, ce qui l’avait conduit à hyperventiler pendant un bon moment puis à vomir son dernier repas dans la baignoire de la salle de bain de Diluc.
Les deux frères en avaient gardé une franche aversion pour tout type de substance psychoactive - ainsi que pour l’alcool dans le cas de Diluc.
Kaeya avait probablement tenté d’expliquer cela à Albedo - mais puisqu’il n’avait pas juré de rester sobre pour le restant de ses jours, lui, et qu’il était justement fort bourré à ce moment-là, son explication n’avait pas franchement convaincu le vampire.
“Le taux d’alcool dans le sang, ça je m’en doutais déjà vu votre haleine, et s’il n’y avait que ça… Non, le problème c’est qu’en plus de cela il y a trop de sel, de sucre, et c’est aussi bien trop acide. Votre sang a un goût infect !”
Bon, le sel et le sucre, cela pouvait être le résultat de son alimentation pas très équilibrée, mais un goût acide ? Ce n’est tout de même pas déjà les conséquence de sa consommation d’alcool, si ? Kaeya aurait tout de même remarqué s’il avait un début de cirrhose…
“C’est comme la viande ; quand un animal est stressé, il a mauvais goût. Et vous, monsieur, vous mangez mal et vous êtes très stressé. Et réduire la boisson aiderait aussi à avoir meilleur goût,” le vampire avait conclu.
Suite à cela… Eh.
Kaeya se rappelle avoir protesté, mais les mots exacts lui échappent.
Il a le vague souvenir d’avoir pleuré un peu - c’était bien la première fois que quelqu’un l’insultait en disant que son sang était infect - et Albedo avait eu l’air soudainement paniqué et avait voulu le consoler…
Et ensuite, trou noir.
Kaeya s’était levé ce matin, et avait trouvé un vampire chez lui, extrêmement déterminé à lui préparer à manger.
“Si on veut que cet arrangement fonctionne, il va falloir apporter quelques modification à votre mode de vie,” explique Albedo en arrosant le poisson d’un filet d’huile d’olive - Kaeya ne se souvenait même pas qu’il avait de l’huile d’olive dans ses placards.
“Je ne me rappelle pas avoir consenti à un quelconque arrangement, mais peu importe. De quoi parle-t-on au juste ?” rumine-t-il, emmitouflé dans sa couette, une main se massant la tempe pour tenter d’apaiser la migraine qui lui vrille le cerveau - les conséquences d’une méchante gueule de bois.
“Vraiment ?” Albedo semble surpris. “Vous n’étiez pas… opposé à l’idée hier soir. Et je vous croyais conscient lors de notre conversation, quand je vous ai raccompagné chez vous.”
“J’ai toujours été bon pour faire croire que je savais ce que je faisais,” Kaeya hausse les épaules. “Si le Kaeya joyeusement bourré d’hier soir a accepté un marché, eh bien, le Kaeya tristement sobre de ce matin va essayer de l’honorer. J’ai dit oui à quoi ?”
Albedo fronce les sourcils tout en ajoutant une pincée de poivre aux légumes grillés.
“Accepter ainsi quelque chose sans se souvenir de quoi il s’agit, cela me paraît quelque peu dangereux. Vous ne devriez pas faire cela. Vous pourriez finir par vous mettre en danger,” raisonne-t-il.
“On meurt tous un jour de quelque chose,” réplique Kaeya. “Et si cela me permet de ramener chez moi un beau spécimen comme toi, le jeu en vaut la chandelle,” ajoute-t-il avec un clin d'œil.
Albedo ne semble pas franchement flatté.
Peut-être qu’il n’a pas compris que Kaeya lui faisait un clin d'œil. C’est vrai qu’avec un seul œil visible, c’est plus ambigu.
“Peut-être allez-vous changer d’avis quand je vais vous le rappeler… Vous avez accepté de devenir mon “garde-manger” personnel. Vos mots, pas les miens.”
“Tu sais, tu peux me tutoyer,” répond Kaeya. “...Surtout si l’objectif est de reproduire ce qu'il s'est passé hier soir,” ajoute-t-il une fois que son cerveau a analysé le reste de la phrase. Wow, le Kaeya bourré de la veille était quand même sacrément doué, pour réussir à convaincre un vampire dégoûté de remettre le couvert après une telle expérience. Et si cela conduit à quelques séances de pelotage en plus…
“Eh bien justement, l’idée est de ne pas faire comme hier soir,” réplique Albedo.
Kaeya essaye de faire en sorte que sa déception ne soit pas trop visible.
“J’ai tout de même des standards. Et à l’heure actuelle, boire votre… boire ton sang équivaut à manger de la nourriture presque avariée.”
“Oh…”
“Donc, il faut commencer par changer tes habitudes alimentaires ; moins de gras, moins de sucre, moins de plats surgelés et plus de cuisine maison. Ensuite, réduire l’alcool bien entendu, et après, on verra ce qui peut être fait pour le stress.”
“...Oh.”
“Contrairement à ce que vous… A ce que tu à l’air de penser, il n’y a pas tant de personnes que ça qui serait prête à donner leur sang de manière… informelle. À un vampire.” explique Albedo avec une grimace. “Et du sang frais, c’est quelque chose d’incomparable, il n’est donc pas question que je laisse passer une telle opportunité. Je vais faire en sorte de corriger ces problèmes de goûts - et accessoirement cela rendra le marché plus équitable. Une meilleure hygiène de vie et de la nourriture gratuite en échange de ton sang. J’avais proposé une compensation financière, mais cela n’avait pas l’air de t’intéresser plus que ça.”
“Euh, oui, pourquoi pas en effet,” bredouille Kaeya.
Donc pour résumer : il s’est mis une mine, a flirté avec un vampire, et se retrouve désormais avec ledit vampire en guise de coach personnel ? Sa vie n’a vraiment aucun sens.
A moins qu’il n’ai pas totalement décuvé… Ce qui semble peu probable. Son crâne lui fait encore un mal de chien.
Albedo à l’air de s’en rendre compte - il s’éloigne de la plaque de cuisson pour ouvrir le frigidaire, et en sortir - un pichet de jus d’orange ?
“Du jus de fruits frais, pleins de vitamines. Cela aide à rester hydraté, ce qui est important en cas de gueule de bois,” explique Albedo en lui servant un verre.
“J’avais des fruits chez moi ?” demande Kaeya d’un air abasourdi en comtemplant le liquide jaune-orangé.
“Non, pas du tout. Ce qui est un problème d’ailleurs. Je suis allé faire quelques courses de premières nécessité ce matin, mais il faudra que je fasse un inventaire un peu plus poussé de ce qu’il y a dans cette cuisine pour la suite. En attendant, c’est prêt !” annonce Albedo en coupant le courant de la plaque de cuisson et en déposant le contenu de sa poêle dans une assiette propre.
Kaeya ne se souvient pas non plus de la dernière fois qu’il a mangé dans une assiette propre…
“Mais au fait, comment est-ce que tu peux savoir cuisiner, si tu ne sens pas le goût des aliments ?” réalise le jeune homme toujours emmitouflé dans sa couette quand le vampire lui sert son repas.
“J’ai un sens du goût normal,” répond Albedo en lui faisant signe de se concentrer sur son assiette. Kaeya s’exécute - il a une faim de loup, de toute façon. “L’absence de goût ou de réflexion dans un miroir, c’est du folklore. En réalité, je peux manger de petites quantités de nourriture “normale”, surtout de la viande crue. Sinon c’est comme une intolérance au lactose, je ne digère pas.”
“Oh, ça doit pas franchement être agréable, ça… Je sais que pour l’intolérance au lactose, il existe des médocs. C’est le cas aussi pour les vampires ?” demande Kaeya entre deux bouchées de thon - qui est délicieux !
“Pas à ma connaissance, mais s’il y a un scientifique vampire quelque part dans le monde qui travaille dessus, je me réjouis d’avance. Qu’est-ce que je ne donnerais pas pour pouvoir manger un bon éclair au chocolat ou un Paris-Brest sans problèmes intestinaux…” soupire le jeune vampire.
Kaeya compatis.
Imaginer une vie sans un croissant pur beurre au petit-déjeuner le dimanche… Quel purgatoire !
“Enfin bref. Est-ce que notre arrangement tient toujours ?” demande Albedo.
Kaeya hausse les épaules, la bouche pleine de poisson.
Dans le pire des cas, le vampire se lassera au bout de quelques jours, et Kaeya aura ainsi profité de ses talents culinaires pour quelques bons repas.
Dans le meilleur des cas… Eh bien, peut-être pourrait-il négocier avec Albedo pour que quelques séances d’intimité physique incluant des baisers ardents fasse partie de la solution envisagée pour réduire son stress.
Après tout, ça ne coûte rien de rêver…
“C’est d’accord pour moi. Je suis à votre merci, chef Albedo,” glousse-t-il en levant son verre de jus de fruit pour porter un toast. “A notre arrangement, qu’il soit satisfaisant !”
“Oh, je suis sûr qu’il le sera,” répond Albedo avec un sourire - et Kaeya frissonne de nouveau en voyant ces deux canines pointues qui dépasse de sa lèvre supérieure.
Les prochains jours vont certainement s’avérer… intéressants.
Content Warnings: food mention, briefly mentions loss of parents
“Ya can’t go there, Les. ‘S Brooklyn.” Jack sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “No kid ‘o mine is goin’ down to Brooklyn by himself. ‘S just not happenin’.” Les huffed, facing toward Davey. “Don’t look at me! I’m not going to Brooklyn again.” Davey exclaimed, throwing up his hands. He shot Jack a glance, hoping that he would back him up on this. Instead, a mischievous smile crept on his face. “Dat don’t sound too bad, huh. Dave, you should take ya little brudda to Brooklyn.” Jack paused, holding back a snicker as Davey’s eyes widened. “I’s sure Spot would love to see ya.” Davey shot Jack a death glare before shaking his head. “What makes you think he would want to see any of the Manhattan newsies? We’re not Race or Albert.”
It was true - only Race and Albert had the privilege of going to Brooklyn whenever they pleased. Jack didn’t like it (and may or may not have felt a bit jealous that he, a fellow leader, wasn’t allowed on Spot’s turf), but he couldn’t blame Conlon - although he was cordial with Jack after his betrayal in order to make the strike successful, he had made it very clear on multiple occasions that he didn’t trust Jack: “Prove it to me, Kelly. Then we’ll talk.” However, Jack felt relieved knowing that at least two Manhattan newsies were on good terms with Brooklyn. If he ever needed a representative, he never hesitated to ask Race or Albert.
“Fine. How’s about I come with ya?” Jack suggested, against his better judgement. Davey looked at him incredulously. “Jack, if there was a list of newsies from any borough that Spot didn’t want to see, I’m certain that you would be at the top of it.” Jack shifted uncomfortably. “I’s changed, Conlon’s gonna have to realize that - one way or another. I ain’t trespassin’ on his turf ‘cause I ain’t sellin’ no papers there. If Les wants to have a look at the circus, then we should let ‘im.” Davey knew good and well that that wasn’t what trespassing meant, but he kept his mouth closed. Jack had a way of working his magic on practically everyone he came into contact with, so maybe he knew what he was doing. Davey just had to relax and trust him.
“Really?” Les squealed, looking enthusiastically between the two of them. Jack glanced over at Davey again before slinging his arm over Les’ shoulder. “Yeah, kid. Let’s go.”
The water sparkled beneath the sun and boats made tiny ripples in the water as the three of them walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Les stopped every few seconds to feed pigeons or to rush over to the nearest boat to watch it pass under the bridge, completely ignoring Davey’s calls to not stray too far behind.
They were barely halfway across the bridge when they heard loud whooping and the sound of coins being scattered across wood. The Brooklyn newsies were there. Not too unexpected. The Brooklyn boys often hung around here: playing jacks, selling papers and looking out for anyone that might be a Manhattan newsie. They slowed down their pace, and Davey stopped telling Les to come over.
He eventually did. “Did you see the big one? It looked incredible!” Les exclaimed, walking over to them. “What? Oh, nah kid. I didn’t see it. I bet it was though.” Jack responded, nervously running a hand through his hair. “How’s about you go looks at some more? I bet there’s others that are just as big.” Les shook his head. “No, I’m ready to go now. Come on, I wanna see the circus!” Jack shot Davey a nervous glance for what was probably the umpteenth time and then they continued on their way. It wasn’t that Jack was scared of Spot - he wasn’t even intimidated. But Jack knew how badly he had let down all of the newsies when he briefly became a scab. It still hurt him deeply to think about, and he felt ashamed to even show his face in Brooklyn. And it wasn’t just Brooklyn - It had taken him a bit to even feel comfortable with his newsies again. Sure, they accepted him back in no time (even the ones who were a little hesitant at first), but Jack still couldn’t shake the feeling of being a backstabber. Especially when it came down to the younger newsies and the ones who were badly wounded during the strike. Living as a newsie was far from living in high society, but it had always been important to Jack to set a good example for them. And he failed. He had assured Crutchie that he would never let him down, he had promised to fight for all of the newsies, even the ones who didn’t partake in the strike. And he was the one who turned out to be the quitter. Oh, the irony.
As they approached closer, Jack tried not to think about the past and instead tried to think of how he was going to explain to Spot’s newsies his reason for coming to Brooklyn. Suddenly, Davey poked him, and gestured up ahead. Surprise surprise, Spot was here too. “Just as luck would have it.” Jack muttered, sucking in his breath.
He squared his shoulders and strode over to where Spot, a few Brooklyn newsies, and (not so surprisingly) Race and Albert sat. “Heya Conlon!” He said, making sure to play up his charm. “How’s things goin’?” Spot looked up at Jack, continuing to maintain his gaze as he put down his cards and stood. “Why’re ya here, Kelly? State your purpose.” “We’s taking-” Spot moved to stand directly in front of Jack. “Business or pleasure?” He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. “Pl-” “I’m going to see the circus!” Les interrupted, the excitement evident on his face. Spot glanced at Les before returning his gaze to Jack.
Behind him, Albert nudged Race, prompting him to reach out and tap Spot on the arm. Spot turned his head ever so slightly to look back at Race, whose eyes pleaded with him to let Jack off the hook. Spot turned his back to Jack, and stood in silence for a few seconds before waving his hand in the air. They were in the clear. Jack gave Race a quick nod before continuing his walk. Spot stood watching them until they disappeared out of view.
They heard the circus before they saw it. Animated carnies yelled, “Come to the circus, it’s the best day of the year!” and loud horns played in the distance. The smell of fresh, buttery popcorn wafted through the air. Les couldn’t contain his happiness. He bounded over to the nearest booth, completely ignoring the ticket collector and tried to peer inside. “Hey kid! Where’s your ticket?” The collector yelled, standing up to block his view. Les stumbled back, stunned. A hand landed on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for any trouble he was causing, sir.” Davey’s voice came from behind him. “We were just on our way.” The collector gave them a stern look as Davey steered Les away, and Jack followed.
“I didn’t do nothin’,” Les was clearly irritated. “I was lookin’!” Davey shook his head. “Looking to get yourself in trouble.” Les pulled himself away from him, walking over to go stand by Jack’s side. “Jack told me I could look! I was lookin’, right Jack?”
Jack nodded in agreement. “Davey, ‘s okay, really. And Les, maybe ya should stay by da fence.” A long, metal fence surrounded the circus, keeping them out but still allowing them to view the vibrant red and white booths, the carousel’s intricate designs, the flashy costumes of the performers and the enticing fair food. The circus showed up annually and although Jack had never been, he had heard plenty from newsies who had seen it in passing. It was like nothing he had seen before.
Les looked longingly at the sight in front of him, and soon a man holding balloons came by. Immediately his eyes lit up. “Look, balloons!” He turned attention to Davey. “Could I get one, David? Please?” Davey shook his head. “I don’t want to have to explain to father why our earnings are significantly less than it was last time.” “I’ll work extra hard then! Younger sells more papes, remember?” Les insisted. “I said no, Les.”
Jack felt uncomfortable, as if he was intruding on something. Among the newsies, he was usually the one to break up fights and settle disagreements. He wasn’t used to this. “But-” Les tried again, only to be cut off by Davey. “Les, we can’t afford it. That’s final.”
Jack glanced awkwardly between them before holding up a finger to Les, and leading Davey a few feet away. “Listen,” He kept his voice low and dug around in his pocket. “I might have some spare change.” After all, he slept on the rooftop, so he sometimes did have a little extra money as opposed to the newsies who had to pay for a bed every night. He typically saved the extra cents in case a newsie happened to be down on their luck. Davey looked at Jack, his face turning red. “We’re no charity case.”
Jack felt as if he had been punched in the gut. The last time Davey had said those words to him were before he even knew Davey was Davey. Of course Jack knew that they weren’t a charity case, they both were hard workers and Davey hated asking anybody for anything.
“Stop thinkin’ dat’s what I means. I’s tryin’ to do a little somethin’ for da kid!” Davey forced a laugh. “What? I do not think that all the time! When’s the last time-” He stopped mid sentence, shocked. The last time he uttered those words was back in July. Back when he still didn’t trust Jack.
To make matters worse, Les had made his way over and they hadn’t noticed. He hated fights. He hated that his brother seemed so serious about saving money. Why couldn’t his enjoyment be just as important as what his family spent their money on? He didn’t understand.
“I think I’ve seen enough,” Les whispered, unknowingly breaking both Jack and Davey’s hearts. “We should go.”
Davey’s hands fiddled with his pencil. He was trying to study for a test, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier that day. Les had been silent since then, and had barely eaten anything at dinner. To make matters worse, their mother had told him that if he didn’t eat, he couldn’t sell papers on Sunday. Selling papers on Sunday (and the occasional Friday) was something that Les looked forward to, and he hated that his mother threatened to take that away from him. One by one, the family retreated, leaving Les at the table. Davey hoped some space would do him good. He also hoped he hadn't been too hard on him.
Plonk! Davey jumped slightly as something hit his window. And then hit again and again. He set down his pencil, lifted up the window and peered out. Jack stood below, waving his hand. “‘Punzel, ‘Punzel, let down ya… fire ‘scape, or whateva.” Davey laughed quietly, leaning out the window further to lower the fire escape to the ground. “I didn’t know you liked fairytales.” Jack shrugged, coming closer to the ladder. “Heard Katherine readin’ it to Smalls da udder day. Thought I’d try it on ya.” Jack grabbed a hold of the rungs and climbed up. Davey moved back a little to make room for him, but Jack held up a hand. “Not comin’ in Dave. I wanted to-” “I’m sorry I snapped. I shouldn’t have said that to you, you were just trying to help.” Jack met Davey’s eyes. “Don’t sweat it Dave. I shouldn’t have put ya on da spot like that.” They stood in silence for a minute before Davey noticed Jack’s eyes scanning the room. “How’s Les?” Davey looked down as the guilt kicked in. It had been nearly two hours since he had last checked in on his brother. In all honesty, he didn’t know how to go about it. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. He didn’t know how to respond, and Jack took notice. “Go check on da kid, I’ll see you’se tomorrow.” Davey sighed and nodded. “Good night.” He said quietly, and walked toward the kitchen.
Jack reached into his pocket, taking out a small, flat package wrapped in newspaper. He reached inside and pushed the window almost all the way down, before carefully placing the corner of the package under the window and shutting it.
Then he turned and started his way down the fire escape.
Les sat in front of a three-quarters-finished bowl of soup. His head was down, but the dried tears on his face were visible. Davey’s heart ached. He looked so small, so fragile. This was all because of him. He slowly walked over to the chair opposite Les and sat down. Les didn’t move. A long silence went by before Davey took a deep breath and broke the tension. “I’m sorry.” Les looked up slightly, blinking his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to be so harsh on you. I didn’t mean to take away your happiness. I’m sorry for taking so long to check up on you. I’m sorry for ruining today for you. I’m… sorry.” Davey’s voice was quiet and his fingers twitched nervously. “And you shouldn’t have to eat this if you don’t want to. I know that soup is colder than a brick right now.” Another minute of silence passed before Davey pushed back his chair and stood up. “Come here.” He said, outstretching his arms. Davey knew that hugs always made his brother feel better, especially hugs from their mother. Even though Davey wasn’t Esther, he could still try and comfort Les the best way he knew how to.
Les padded over to him, taking him up on the offer.
“Why can’t I ever buy candy? Or go to the toy store just once? It’s not fair.” Les sniffled. Davey remembered asking these questions too when he was his brother's age, but that was before he understood how the world worked. He knew his parents wished that they could give them everything and more, but it just wasn’t very possible. “It’s just the way things are right now. They’re doing the best they can. It’s not easy, but they’re trying. I’m sorry.”
They hugged for a few more minutes before Davey pulled back. “Go get ready for bed, you look tired.” Les nodded sadly, and began to walk toward the door. Suddenly, he turned around and faced Davey. “It’s okay.”
Les walked over to the small, wooden table to blow out a candle. But his attention diverted to the window, where something had caught his eye. He crossed the room and gingerly lifted up the window, the package falling in his hands. Bringing it over to the candle, he realized that “For Les” was scrawled in big, messy letters. His eyebrows raised in surprise and he tore open the newspaper.
In his hands, he held a piece of paper. His eyes were drawn to the small signature in the bottom right corner. Jack’s. And then he noticed the picture.
Balloons.
Little bursts of red, green, white, orange and blue balloons. They were outlined with a pencil, and had curly, straight and wavy strings attached to them. Les couldn’t believe his eyes. Each one looked vastly different from the other. They were beautiful. The paper smelt vaguely of food, and Les giggled to himself. Jack must’ve used old fruits and vegetables to get the pigment. But that didn’t matter because it was perfect; It was his. He hugged the picture to his chest like it was worth a million dollars. To him, it was if Jack had given him the world.
Les ran ahead of Davey to the circulation gate, and for the first time, Davey didn’t tell him to slow down. He was glad to see a smile back on his brother’s face. He sped up, just in time to see Les bum rush Jack.
Jack steadied himself to keep from crashing into the newspaper wagon as Les threw his arms around him. Then he froze. Now Jack had always been affectionate. He was used to ruffling the newsies’ hair, playfully punching their sides, and slinging his arms around their shoulders. But hugs? That wasn’t something that he was used to. Well, at least not anymore.
When he first became a newsie, he was made fun of a lot for “being soft.” He really wasn’t (as most kids who had gone through a significant amount of loss which caused them to learn how to fend for themselves weren’t), but at the time, he just wanted to feel loved. Nowadays, he would usually hug a younger newsie when they were still new and grieving the loss of their parents or when they occasionally suffered a nightmare. Hugs were something that came only on occasion.
But this was Les, and Les wasn’t letting go. Jack could hug him without worrying that he was going to be mocked. So he relaxed his shoulders, and pulled his arms around the boy. Les squeezed him even tighter then. Jack could barely breathe, but he would never say anything to Les about it - he would hate to hurt the kid’s feelings. Plus, he actually liked the hug. He didn’t realize how much he had missed them. A few more moments passed before Davey appeared, holding his and Les’ papers. He took one look at Jack’s face and tried his best to keep from bursting into laughter. “Les, let up some. You don’t want to squeeze his insides out.” Davey chuckled. Les let go and grabbed his papers out of Davey’s hands. As he was putting them in his bag, Davey’s eyes locked with Jack’s. His eyes told a million stories. “Come on,” Les said, grabbing Davey’s wrist. “I don’t wanna miss my usual customers!” Les began to run, dragging Davey with him. With his eyes still fixed on Jack, Davey mouthed “Thank you,” before turning around to face whatever the day had to offer.
Full Osomatsu-san Writevember 2020 fic can be read here 👉 https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567595/chapters/67431694 ❤️💙💚💜💛💖 Thanks again, everyone 💕💕
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Hey guys! It's almost time for the third annual Writevember! This time I changed it up. You can do weekly prompts or daily prompts, depending on how much you personally can write. It's a fun little writing challenge and I love seeing people participating! You can even use your own prompts too, anything you like. It's all about developing writing habits and having fun!
For writevember a bit of Ayaoso! I meant to do it for the 3rd prompt “Soothe” :
The sound of the doorbell echoed in the house, making Ayane hurry toward the door. She checked first who could it be and sighed of relief when she recognized her boyfriend behind the door.
When she opened the door she smiled while saying :
« Osomatsu-kun, hello. »
Even if he smiled back he seemed off. He brushed the back of his head with a timid smile :
« Hello, Aya-chan…
_ Are you ok ? »
She noticed so easily. Was it so easy to see?
Osomatsu didn’t waste time in trying to hide that he wasn’t feeling well : after all it’s because he knew that he could rely on her that he was there. But it was still hard to be totally honest about it though.
He walked to her and posed his head on the crook of her neck.
And he just whined as a reply.
Later Ayane was kindly preparing tea for him as he covered himself with one of her blanket. It smelled like her and it made him patient as she was busy for him.
She was really too kind. He always accepted her kindness earnestly but today he felt a bit out of it, a bit like he didn’t deserve that kind of attention right now. But it wasn’t at the point as he could totally refuse what he craved.
She sit at his sides.
« What’s going on ? »
He just looked at her for a moment, hesitating on how to formulate his thoughts. So her hands slowly get close to his cheek…
To pinch it.
« Ouch !
_ Sorry. Your sad face is cute. Like a puppy. She teased him
_ What ?! I’m sad and you’re making fun of me ! It’s mean ! He protested
_ But Osomatsu-kun is so cute ! He’s sad so he come to me for cuddles ! She said with a big smile »
Cute ?! He’s a man ! Don’t she know that he doesn’t like being called cute ? Isn’t he manly enough ?
He blushed and looked away, now pouting.
Nice. It seemed that teasing him a bit eased his heart a bit.
« I’m sorry. »
She kissed his cheek as he just groan a bit harder. How couldn’t she call him cute ?
« Don’t you want some tea ? If you don’t I’ll drink it myself.
_ Why do you do tea if it’s for drinking it yourself ? Protested Osomatsu again
_ Hehe !
_ You enjoy teasing me too much. While I’m already so down… cruel…
_ I’m just getting back at you for all the time you did it to me ! »
He couldn’t help but smile too. Being mad at her just weren’t an option right now. He felt relaxed at her side.
Maybe relaxed enough to talk.
« Aya-chan….do you think I’m a terrible brother ? »
…
« I mean, I am aren’t I ? That’s a stupid question. »
…
Her hand gently came in contact with his own.
« If you were a terrible brother you wouldn’t even care about being one, Osomatsu-kun. »
Of course he wasn’t convinced so easily. It couldn’t leave just like that.
« Since I know you you’re making great efforts… you’re only getting better, Osomatsu-kun. »
…
« Don’t hate yourself for not being perfect. »
Osomatsu finally looked in her direction :
« You’re good at it. Comforting me I mean.
_ You’ve been good at it for me too. »
And she kissed his cheek again as he smiled. He kept talking.
« I’ve been quite a dick to my brothers and I had an argument with Todomatsu. I didn’t want to apologize but I know I have to. I still don’t want to though. And even if I apologize I’m sure he won’t care so isn’t that better to just not saying anything ? They know I’m shitty what’s the point of- »
Suddenly she put her two hands on his cheeks and force him to look at her.
« Do it for you.
_ ...eh ?
_ You feel bad about it aren’t you ? Then do it for yourself.
_ ….ah…. »
He looked down again as she kept talking :
« And I’m sure he won’t hate you for that. Because you’re a good brother enough for him to love you.
_ I don’t know about that but I’ve done worst and we still were close after…
_ Don’t mention the mixer.
_ Haha yeah… »
After that Osomatsu just let his whole body fall against Ayane’s, in need for warmth. As a reply, she put his head on her legs and started to stroke his hair.
« I’m gonna take a nap…
_ Go ahead. »
It’s true that Osomatsu wasn’t the best brother. She knew it. But he tried. And when he does try, he does amazing thing.
« Prepare yourself to apologize. Then tell me how it goes.
_ Ok…. Thank you Aya-chan…. you’re the best girlfriend…. »
She ruffled his hair a bit as she chuckled. She loved him so much.
And she was proud. Because even if he weren’t the best, he was still worried about it and still tried. He tried so she hoped that one day he’ll be the kind of brother he’ll be proud to be.
Soon enough Osomatsu breath became deep and calm.
Her only regret was that she hadn’t a book to read while he was napping.
For those of us not up to doing NaNoWriMo, or just looking for an alternative, what about coming up with a variety of prompt lists to chose from, ala Inktober, and choosing as many or as few lists to work from as we’re comfortable with? I’ve done one for worldbuilding/setting practice here (based on an Inktober list by @lonelytofu, not in a good order yet). Would anyone be interested?
I feel totally stupid because I completely misread today’s prompt as “Desert” and only just realized after writing it that it was “Desert” so....I’m Just going to go ahead and keep it as is and make up for it with another fic later. I’m so sorry I messed this up hhhh....
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
