[log] Monsters don't cry... [closed, complete]
Who: Haku & Zabuza
What: Breaking some bad news.
Where: Detroit; Zabuza's apartment
When: After the fire, a few days before this post.
Warnings: Some violence and very mild swearing. Also, I puppeted Zabuza. If you pick him up sometime, you can yell at me then.
Haku stood by a speaker, in the space between the couch and the chattering television, off to the side just enough to keep from blocking the screen. He waited, silent, with eyes downcast and hands clasped behind him. He didn't move a muscle, almost seeming not to breath, the only hint of motion coming as he occasionally tried to peer through heavy lashes at the large man who sat sprawled on the couch, taking up enough space for at least four of Haku. It was a dangerous direction for his eyes to turn, but it was hard to keep looking at the carpet, the hideous russet and orange plaid the landlord had put in as punishment after they melted the green. He entertained the thought that he'd lost his immunity to ghastly color combinations while he'd been in New York. Maybe if he'd stayed there...
He stifled a sigh before it was allowed to be exhaled; sounding impatient would only make things worse here. Judging from the curl in his uncle's lip the man had read his slumped shoulders and his silence, and knew something was coming that he wasn't going to like. Whatever inane sitcom he might appear to be watching was getting the evil eye. It was a measure of just how low Haku stood in his mind tonight; Zabuza hated that kind of show. Hated them, and was still making Haku wait his turn behind some old man on tv, screaming from a truck. In time the tv screen lit up with music and commercials, the noise followed by the creak of springs from the ancient, colorless couch as Zabuza pulled his legs in enough to lean forward and drop his elbows to his knees. Haku started and caught his eye, then threw his gaze down quickly to his shoes. This twist of his mouth soured Haku's stomach instantly.
He sucked in a quick breath, but found he couldn't start. He worked his mouth open and shut, silently, glancing around the room as if looking for something to bail him out of this. It was only put up with for a few moments before the low-rumbled command of "Use your words," reached his ears. Haku's shoulders tensed and he looked up, eyes wide. Do it quick, like a bandaid. Just get it over with.
"There was a fire at the school. A big one." His eyes returned to their hiding place in the carpet, while he tried to push his voice above a whisper. "Most of the dorm building burnt down." He wouldn't waste his time with assurances that he was okay; Haku was standing here in one piece, Zabuza wouldn't care any further than that. "I cou- I couldn't grab anything. The Rickenbakker... and the twin-neck..." He had to stop as his throat seemed to want to choke his voice right out of him.
In the silence emanating from his uncle, the tv sounded unnaturally loud. Haku waited, listening to the babbling voices, wondering how anybody could laugh like that at a time like this.
"You lost my guitar in the fire?"
The words were like a sudden plunge into cold water. Haku squeezed his eyes shut and twisted his fingers in his skirt, only vaguely aware that Zabuza had stood up and moved. "'M so sorry," he choked out, quailing. Some voice in his head was piping up that he'd done the best he could, that he'd had more than enough to worry about at the time. Haku squashed it. There were very few things in this world that meant anything to his uncle, and Haku had let one of them burn without a second thought. And now, Zabuza's breathing was kind of strange, kind of matching his own as he felt tears leave hot trails down his face. Then Zabuza's voice was hoarse and grating, louder than Haku had heard it in years, and Haku knew the blow was coming.
"What the hell do you think I gave you that for!?"
The back of a fist connected with the side of Haku's face. There was a weird instant of darkness, then suddenly he was hitting the coffee table, the cheap piece of furniture smashed by the blow. He lay there, head reeling, trying to make his limbs move. Gingerly he tried to push himself up; his hip and shoulder were throbbing and he couldn't feel half of his face, but he'd almost managed to extricate himself from the pile of cracked plywood when he felt a hand close around his wrist. For another brief moment he was reeling again, and it wasn't until his head stopped spinning that he realized he'd been hauled up to stand on shaking ankles. "You useless..." Haku looked up and instantly wished he hadn't. The look on his uncle's face... he should never look like that. He swallowed back a sob, and blurted out another "'M sorry." Zabuza's grasp was like having his arm in a vice, and when the man jerked him closer he felt his fingers turn to pins and needles. He flinched, expecting another blow, but Zabuza only cringed, seemed to rethink something, then shoved him back down to the floor again.
"Get the hell out of here," he rumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and disappearing into the kitchen. Haku picked himself up from the small pile of rubble, then fell back into the couch when his knees couldn't hold him. Leaning forward, he rested his head in his lap, breathing deeply and trying to collect himself. After a few minutes he rose from the couch, unsteady but moving. He paused at the kitchen doorway. His uncle stood there in the dark, hands on the counter on either side of the sink, head bowed. He was slowly tapping the toe of one boot on the linoleum.
Haku sniffled. "Z- Zabuza, I-"
"GET."
Haku couldn't hold back a small whimper. With as much haste as he could manage he stumbled to the front door, snatching up his purse and shoes and running out into the cold in his stocking feet. He stopped at the first street corner, brow furrowing as he grimaced.
"Goddamned useless!"
The Refreshments - Interstate
What: Breaking some bad news.
Where: Detroit; Zabuza's apartment
When: After the fire, a few days before this post.
Warnings: Some violence and very mild swearing. Also, I puppeted Zabuza. If you pick him up sometime, you can yell at me then.
Haku stood by a speaker, in the space between the couch and the chattering television, off to the side just enough to keep from blocking the screen. He waited, silent, with eyes downcast and hands clasped behind him. He didn't move a muscle, almost seeming not to breath, the only hint of motion coming as he occasionally tried to peer through heavy lashes at the large man who sat sprawled on the couch, taking up enough space for at least four of Haku. It was a dangerous direction for his eyes to turn, but it was hard to keep looking at the carpet, the hideous russet and orange plaid the landlord had put in as punishment after they melted the green. He entertained the thought that he'd lost his immunity to ghastly color combinations while he'd been in New York. Maybe if he'd stayed there...
He stifled a sigh before it was allowed to be exhaled; sounding impatient would only make things worse here. Judging from the curl in his uncle's lip the man had read his slumped shoulders and his silence, and knew something was coming that he wasn't going to like. Whatever inane sitcom he might appear to be watching was getting the evil eye. It was a measure of just how low Haku stood in his mind tonight; Zabuza hated that kind of show. Hated them, and was still making Haku wait his turn behind some old man on tv, screaming from a truck. In time the tv screen lit up with music and commercials, the noise followed by the creak of springs from the ancient, colorless couch as Zabuza pulled his legs in enough to lean forward and drop his elbows to his knees. Haku started and caught his eye, then threw his gaze down quickly to his shoes. This twist of his mouth soured Haku's stomach instantly.
He sucked in a quick breath, but found he couldn't start. He worked his mouth open and shut, silently, glancing around the room as if looking for something to bail him out of this. It was only put up with for a few moments before the low-rumbled command of "Use your words," reached his ears. Haku's shoulders tensed and he looked up, eyes wide. Do it quick, like a bandaid. Just get it over with.
"There was a fire at the school. A big one." His eyes returned to their hiding place in the carpet, while he tried to push his voice above a whisper. "Most of the dorm building burnt down." He wouldn't waste his time with assurances that he was okay; Haku was standing here in one piece, Zabuza wouldn't care any further than that. "I cou- I couldn't grab anything. The Rickenbakker... and the twin-neck..." He had to stop as his throat seemed to want to choke his voice right out of him.
In the silence emanating from his uncle, the tv sounded unnaturally loud. Haku waited, listening to the babbling voices, wondering how anybody could laugh like that at a time like this.
"You lost my guitar in the fire?"
The words were like a sudden plunge into cold water. Haku squeezed his eyes shut and twisted his fingers in his skirt, only vaguely aware that Zabuza had stood up and moved. "'M so sorry," he choked out, quailing. Some voice in his head was piping up that he'd done the best he could, that he'd had more than enough to worry about at the time. Haku squashed it. There were very few things in this world that meant anything to his uncle, and Haku had let one of them burn without a second thought. And now, Zabuza's breathing was kind of strange, kind of matching his own as he felt tears leave hot trails down his face. Then Zabuza's voice was hoarse and grating, louder than Haku had heard it in years, and Haku knew the blow was coming.
"What the hell do you think I gave you that for!?"
The back of a fist connected with the side of Haku's face. There was a weird instant of darkness, then suddenly he was hitting the coffee table, the cheap piece of furniture smashed by the blow. He lay there, head reeling, trying to make his limbs move. Gingerly he tried to push himself up; his hip and shoulder were throbbing and he couldn't feel half of his face, but he'd almost managed to extricate himself from the pile of cracked plywood when he felt a hand close around his wrist. For another brief moment he was reeling again, and it wasn't until his head stopped spinning that he realized he'd been hauled up to stand on shaking ankles. "You useless..." Haku looked up and instantly wished he hadn't. The look on his uncle's face... he should never look like that. He swallowed back a sob, and blurted out another "'M sorry." Zabuza's grasp was like having his arm in a vice, and when the man jerked him closer he felt his fingers turn to pins and needles. He flinched, expecting another blow, but Zabuza only cringed, seemed to rethink something, then shoved him back down to the floor again.
"Get the hell out of here," he rumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and disappearing into the kitchen. Haku picked himself up from the small pile of rubble, then fell back into the couch when his knees couldn't hold him. Leaning forward, he rested his head in his lap, breathing deeply and trying to collect himself. After a few minutes he rose from the couch, unsteady but moving. He paused at the kitchen doorway. His uncle stood there in the dark, hands on the counter on either side of the sink, head bowed. He was slowly tapping the toe of one boot on the linoleum.
Haku sniffled. "Z- Zabuza, I-"
"GET."
Haku couldn't hold back a small whimper. With as much haste as he could manage he stumbled to the front door, snatching up his purse and shoes and running out into the cold in his stocking feet. He stopped at the first street corner, brow furrowing as he grimaced.
"Goddamned useless!"
The Refreshments - Interstate