Tears [Gravitation, Eiri + Riku]
But when he opened the door to the guest room, Riku was just sitting up in bed, looking a bit pensive, but ultimately content. His eyes were completely dry. Eiri frowned, suspicious, and leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed accusatorily.
“Got something on your mind?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.
Riku nodded, and then stared at him silently. Eiri stared back and wondered if the kid knew just how weird he was.
“Well?” He prompted impatiently. “What is it?”
“My mom,” Riku said simply, still staring, still as emotional as a rock.
It irked Eiri, made him feel like he was being challenged or something. Well, two could play at that game. He would make the boy cry, dammit.
“You miss her?”
“Yeah.”
“Makes you sad to think about her?”
“Yeah.”
“Wish you could’ve had more time with her?”
“Yeah.”
“Wish she could be here to tuck you in night and make you breakfast in the morning?”
“Yeah.”
“To celebrate birthdays and holidays with?”
“Yeah.”
“To take care of you when you’re sick and put on Band-Aids when you scrape your knee?”
“Yeah.”
“To hold and comfort you when you’re sad?”
“Yeah.”
“To help you when things in your life get really tough and tell you it’s okay when you make mistakes? To see you overcome all your problems or least work on them in therapy and see you make a name for yourself by writing books and making millions?”
“…Huh?”
Dammit. Now he couldn’t stop thinking of his mother. And it made him sad to think about her.
“Nevermind.” He uncrossed his arms and prepared to make a hasty retreat. “Just go to sleep, you robot.”
[-]
The night that Eiri told Riku that he was the reason Yuki Kitazawa was dead, he thought for sure the boy would cry. It must’ve been such a shock for him: realizing that the man he’d been living with and had even started calling “Daddy” (despite being told not to countless times) was the same man who killed his actual daddy. He had to cry. He just had to.
And when he didn’t-when he pinched and pulled at Eiri’s cheeks instead-it pissed the writer off. And he didn’t handle being pissed off very well. Usually, that didn’t matter. Usually, he was being pissed off at Shuichi or his editor or his family, and they could take it; they’d learned to take it. But a child isn’t supposed to take it. A child isn’t supposed to be yelled at or looked at like he is the scum of the earth. And that was why Eiri just wasn’t cut out to be anybody’s “Daddy.”
He hadn’t realized what a mistake he’d made until Riku took off running.
He didn’t hesitate for even a minute before chasing after the boy. Just because…he didn’t want him to get lost or kidnapped or run over. Not because he wanted to make all this up to him or anything. He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew that nothing he did could make it up to Riku. Nothing. And there was no chance that the boy would want to keep living with him now. He’d really screwed up. And he felt like he hadn’t screwed up this bad in years, although a certain singer might beg to differ.
He felt like he hadn’t screwed up this bad since that day in New York when he’d shut his eyes and fired a gun and shot holes in his tutor’s body.
And then, as he ran after a little boy who should’ve been crying, he found that the only tears spilling in that moment were his.
[-]
When Eiri woke up and couldn’t see a damn thing, he reached his arm out for something-anything-familiar and comforting, and his hand found Riku’s face. The little brat was indestructible. He was a robot, wasn’t he?
“Hey.” He frowned faintly when he heard the tell-tale sound of sniffling and realized that his palm was getting wet. “Are you crying?”
Riku made a sound that could’ve been a sob and could’ve been a “yes”; either way, it answered Eiri’s question and made his chest go unbelievably tight. He didn’t want him to cry. Not now. Not over this. Not over him. He wasn’t Riku’s mom and he wasn’t Riku’s dad and he didn’t deserve Riku’s tears.
“Why?” He really hoped it wasn’t out of pity. He hated pity. And he had an awful feeling that with his loss of sight, he was going to be getting a lot of fucking pity now.
“You saved me,” he said, quietly and choking on the tears Eiri could feel and was glad he couldn’t see. “And I was scared you’d be gone, too. Like Mommy and Daddy.”
Riku held onto the writer’s arm like his life depended on it, and gave up talking to bury his face in Eiri’s palm and Eiri’s fingers, and Eiri could’ve cried, but he didn’t; and he thought he heard Riku mumble something about unemotional robots; and though he couldn’t be sure, it made him smile anyway.
“Got something on your mind?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.
Riku nodded, and then stared at him silently. Eiri stared back and wondered if the kid knew just how weird he was.
“Well?” He prompted impatiently. “What is it?”
“My mom,” Riku said simply, still staring, still as emotional as a rock.
It irked Eiri, made him feel like he was being challenged or something. Well, two could play at that game. He would make the boy cry, dammit.
“You miss her?”
“Yeah.”
“Makes you sad to think about her?”
“Yeah.”
“Wish you could’ve had more time with her?”
“Yeah.”
“Wish she could be here to tuck you in night and make you breakfast in the morning?”
“Yeah.”
“To celebrate birthdays and holidays with?”
“Yeah.”
“To take care of you when you’re sick and put on Band-Aids when you scrape your knee?”
“Yeah.”
“To hold and comfort you when you’re sad?”
“Yeah.”
“To help you when things in your life get really tough and tell you it’s okay when you make mistakes? To see you overcome all your problems or least work on them in therapy and see you make a name for yourself by writing books and making millions?”
“…Huh?”
Dammit. Now he couldn’t stop thinking of his mother. And it made him sad to think about her.
“Nevermind.” He uncrossed his arms and prepared to make a hasty retreat. “Just go to sleep, you robot.”
[-]
The night that Eiri told Riku that he was the reason Yuki Kitazawa was dead, he thought for sure the boy would cry. It must’ve been such a shock for him: realizing that the man he’d been living with and had even started calling “Daddy” (despite being told not to countless times) was the same man who killed his actual daddy. He had to cry. He just had to.
And when he didn’t-when he pinched and pulled at Eiri’s cheeks instead-it pissed the writer off. And he didn’t handle being pissed off very well. Usually, that didn’t matter. Usually, he was being pissed off at Shuichi or his editor or his family, and they could take it; they’d learned to take it. But a child isn’t supposed to take it. A child isn’t supposed to be yelled at or looked at like he is the scum of the earth. And that was why Eiri just wasn’t cut out to be anybody’s “Daddy.”
He hadn’t realized what a mistake he’d made until Riku took off running.
He didn’t hesitate for even a minute before chasing after the boy. Just because…he didn’t want him to get lost or kidnapped or run over. Not because he wanted to make all this up to him or anything. He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew that nothing he did could make it up to Riku. Nothing. And there was no chance that the boy would want to keep living with him now. He’d really screwed up. And he felt like he hadn’t screwed up this bad in years, although a certain singer might beg to differ.
He felt like he hadn’t screwed up this bad since that day in New York when he’d shut his eyes and fired a gun and shot holes in his tutor’s body.
And then, as he ran after a little boy who should’ve been crying, he found that the only tears spilling in that moment were his.
[-]
When Eiri woke up and couldn’t see a damn thing, he reached his arm out for something-anything-familiar and comforting, and his hand found Riku’s face. The little brat was indestructible. He was a robot, wasn’t he?
“Hey.” He frowned faintly when he heard the tell-tale sound of sniffling and realized that his palm was getting wet. “Are you crying?”
Riku made a sound that could’ve been a sob and could’ve been a “yes”; either way, it answered Eiri’s question and made his chest go unbelievably tight. He didn’t want him to cry. Not now. Not over this. Not over him. He wasn’t Riku’s mom and he wasn’t Riku’s dad and he didn’t deserve Riku’s tears.
“Why?” He really hoped it wasn’t out of pity. He hated pity. And he had an awful feeling that with his loss of sight, he was going to be getting a lot of fucking pity now.
“You saved me,” he said, quietly and choking on the tears Eiri could feel and was glad he couldn’t see. “And I was scared you’d be gone, too. Like Mommy and Daddy.”
Riku held onto the writer’s arm like his life depended on it, and gave up talking to bury his face in Eiri’s palm and Eiri’s fingers, and Eiri could’ve cried, but he didn’t; and he thought he heard Riku mumble something about unemotional robots; and though he couldn’t be sure, it made him smile anyway.