Ficlet!
....Because it's the deadline for 30_kisses, and I don't want to get dropped. ^_^ This one is for theme #14, "radio-cassette player".
I had some trouble with this, so it's just silly and kind of short. Hopefully it's enjoyable, anyway.
Oh, and it's un-betaed, but I promise to have it looked at ASAP, and I'll repost with any changes.
----Control----
It was an unspoken rule in the Koneko no Sumu Ie:
Aya had control of the radio.
Ken didn’t really care. It wasn’t as though Aya chose annoying stations: mostly classical music, with a news station every now and then. He had never really thought too much about it; it was just background noise to him.
And then, one day, he walked into the shop to hear loud rock music pouring from the radio.
Yohji was lounging behind the counter. He flashed a grin at Ken as the soccer player approached. “It’s an improvement, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Aya won’t think so,” Ken predicted.
And indeed, within minutes, Aya came storming out of the back room. He marched straight toward the counter, and would have changed the radio station then and there, if Yohji hadn’t blocked his hand.
“We listen to your music all the time,” Yohji told the irate redhead. “It’s only fair to give the rest of us a chance once in a while.”
“Life isn’t fair,” Aya answered coolly, knocking Yohji’s hand away from the dial. The rock music disappeared, replaced by the softer strains of something instrumental that Ken didn’t recognize.
Yohji opened his mouth to protest, but Aya cut him off. “I need these arrangements done in three hours,” he said, producing a list from goodness-knows-where.
Grumbling, Yohji retreated to the back room. Aya settled himself into the seat Yohji had vacated. Ken rolled his eyes and went to open the doors.
The shop was bustling by the time Yohji returned to announce that the arrangements were done. Aya rose grudgingly from the stool behind the counter.
“I’m going to make deliveries,” he said, shooting a significant glance at the radio, and then fixing Yohji and Ken with a look that promised murder and mayhem if the station was different when he returned. The minute that the door closed behind Aya, Yohji made a dive for the counter. Ken sighed as rock music filled the shop again, and went back to helping the customers.
He had forgotten about the music until Omi came down for his shift. The younger boy looked startled for a minute, and then turned to Ken, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Yohji wants equal radio rights,” Ken told him.
“And Aya’s giving them to him?” Omi looked even more puzzled.
“Well, no,” Ken admitted. “Actually, he’ll probably kill us all when he gets back.”
It was Ken’s turn behind the counter when Aya arrived. Without a word, the redhead stalked over to the counter and snapped the dial back to the classical station. Then, as though nothing had happened, he went and filled the watering can and began to feed the plants.
Yohji set aside the broom he had been using to clean up a small patch of spilled potting soil. Calmly, he made his way over to the counter and changed the station back. Aya glared daggers as Yohji went back to his sweeping. The customers looked on in amazement.
Aya crossed the room to water the pansy plant sitting on the corner of the counter, spilling a bit of water in his agitation. The station changed back to classical.
Yohji finished cleaning up the dirt almost as though he hadn’t noticed the change. Then he carried his broom over to the counter and began sweeping around it. The music again became rock-and-roll.
Aya watched as Yohji walked back across the room, ignoring the plant he was supposed to be watering. When Yohji began to sweep again, Aya came to the counter to get more plant food, and the music was classical once more.
Yohji came back to empty his dustpan into the trash basket near the cash register, and the rock-and-roll returned.
The customers were whispering among themselves. Aya looked positively murderous. Ken turned away and busied himself with yesterday’s receipts. He didn’t look up when he heard footsteps approaching the counter again. He was not going to get involved in this, no matter how ridiculous it got.
“Whoa!” Omi yelled. Ken looked around just in time to see the smaller boy slip spectacularly on the water that Aya had spilled. He careened into the counter, one of his hands skidding across it in what was meant to look like an attempt to catch himself.
The radio slid off the edge of the counter. The voice that had been singing about kisses stopped abruptly with a crash of plastic on tile.
The silence in the shop was deafening.
Omi pushed himself off the counter, laughing sheepishly. “Oops,” he said. “That was clumsy of me.”
Everyone stared at him.
Ken was the first to recover. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” Omi answered. “I just feel a little silly.”
“It’s okay,” Ken told him, as the shop resumed its normal activity. “We can replace the radio.”
Omi stared at him in horror.
Ken laughed. After a moment, Omi laughed with him.
They never did get another radio.
---end---
I had some trouble with this, so it's just silly and kind of short. Hopefully it's enjoyable, anyway.
Oh, and it's un-betaed, but I promise to have it looked at ASAP, and I'll repost with any changes.
----Control----
It was an unspoken rule in the Koneko no Sumu Ie:
Aya had control of the radio.
Ken didn’t really care. It wasn’t as though Aya chose annoying stations: mostly classical music, with a news station every now and then. He had never really thought too much about it; it was just background noise to him.
And then, one day, he walked into the shop to hear loud rock music pouring from the radio.
Yohji was lounging behind the counter. He flashed a grin at Ken as the soccer player approached. “It’s an improvement, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Aya won’t think so,” Ken predicted.
And indeed, within minutes, Aya came storming out of the back room. He marched straight toward the counter, and would have changed the radio station then and there, if Yohji hadn’t blocked his hand.
“We listen to your music all the time,” Yohji told the irate redhead. “It’s only fair to give the rest of us a chance once in a while.”
“Life isn’t fair,” Aya answered coolly, knocking Yohji’s hand away from the dial. The rock music disappeared, replaced by the softer strains of something instrumental that Ken didn’t recognize.
Yohji opened his mouth to protest, but Aya cut him off. “I need these arrangements done in three hours,” he said, producing a list from goodness-knows-where.
Grumbling, Yohji retreated to the back room. Aya settled himself into the seat Yohji had vacated. Ken rolled his eyes and went to open the doors.
The shop was bustling by the time Yohji returned to announce that the arrangements were done. Aya rose grudgingly from the stool behind the counter.
“I’m going to make deliveries,” he said, shooting a significant glance at the radio, and then fixing Yohji and Ken with a look that promised murder and mayhem if the station was different when he returned. The minute that the door closed behind Aya, Yohji made a dive for the counter. Ken sighed as rock music filled the shop again, and went back to helping the customers.
He had forgotten about the music until Omi came down for his shift. The younger boy looked startled for a minute, and then turned to Ken, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Yohji wants equal radio rights,” Ken told him.
“And Aya’s giving them to him?” Omi looked even more puzzled.
“Well, no,” Ken admitted. “Actually, he’ll probably kill us all when he gets back.”
It was Ken’s turn behind the counter when Aya arrived. Without a word, the redhead stalked over to the counter and snapped the dial back to the classical station. Then, as though nothing had happened, he went and filled the watering can and began to feed the plants.
Yohji set aside the broom he had been using to clean up a small patch of spilled potting soil. Calmly, he made his way over to the counter and changed the station back. Aya glared daggers as Yohji went back to his sweeping. The customers looked on in amazement.
Aya crossed the room to water the pansy plant sitting on the corner of the counter, spilling a bit of water in his agitation. The station changed back to classical.
Yohji finished cleaning up the dirt almost as though he hadn’t noticed the change. Then he carried his broom over to the counter and began sweeping around it. The music again became rock-and-roll.
Aya watched as Yohji walked back across the room, ignoring the plant he was supposed to be watering. When Yohji began to sweep again, Aya came to the counter to get more plant food, and the music was classical once more.
Yohji came back to empty his dustpan into the trash basket near the cash register, and the rock-and-roll returned.
The customers were whispering among themselves. Aya looked positively murderous. Ken turned away and busied himself with yesterday’s receipts. He didn’t look up when he heard footsteps approaching the counter again. He was not going to get involved in this, no matter how ridiculous it got.
“Whoa!” Omi yelled. Ken looked around just in time to see the smaller boy slip spectacularly on the water that Aya had spilled. He careened into the counter, one of his hands skidding across it in what was meant to look like an attempt to catch himself.
The radio slid off the edge of the counter. The voice that had been singing about kisses stopped abruptly with a crash of plastic on tile.
The silence in the shop was deafening.
Omi pushed himself off the counter, laughing sheepishly. “Oops,” he said. “That was clumsy of me.”
Everyone stared at him.
Ken was the first to recover. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” Omi answered. “I just feel a little silly.”
“It’s okay,” Ken told him, as the shop resumed its normal activity. “We can replace the radio.”
Omi stared at him in horror.
Ken laughed. After a moment, Omi laughed with him.
They never did get another radio.
---end---