[log] You Pick Up the Pieces and the Ghosts in the Attic They Never Quite Leave
Who: Yoite and Gau
Status: Active / Closed
Style: Prose
Where: The house the Nabari cast is staying at in Raisato
When: Week 5, Day 6, morning a few hours after Gau's erotic dream.
Rating: PG to PG-13 I'd Imagine. I Imagined wrong, R / NC-17 For teenage boy exploration.
Summary: Follow up to the events after Yoite's nightmare, Yoite's voice post, and Gau's dream. There are things they need to tie up.
Watch the hot water, kid
It was hard not to think of Yukimi as Yoite cooked. Hard not to remember how clumsily he had spilled honey-water and lemon juice all over the counters when he was first learning. And hard not to hear that voice chiding him, sternly but with a fatherly gentleness that Yukimi would never admit to because of course he "hated dealing with brats."
The corner of Yoite's mouth almost quirked as the word danced through his mind.
brat
Yukimi had always called him that. Brat or kid, which at first was directed less at Yoite and more at Hattori for saddling him with voiceless, lifeless 14 year old to watch over... to watch slowly die. Yukimi had born the brunt of Yoite's illness, wrapping blankets around him in the cold of night... and rushing him to the hospital whenever Yoite collapsed. The words brat and kid came to mean friend and family. Home.
Yukimi had been his home... or as the man had put it "a place to take shelter from the rain."
But now Yoite didn't have that home. Didn't know if he'd ever return to it. Not that he deserved to it was just....
...cooking. Yoite refocused himself on cooking. He wasn't good at it per say, but Yukimi had taught him enough to get by. After having to cook 3 or 4 times the normal serving sizes for two men Yukimi had had enough and decided that Yoite would need at least some capability of feeding himself. It was dangerous, in fact, for him not to. Yoite was always starving. Constantly starving. As the kira took away his senses of taste and smell it also seemed to take away his ability to ever feel full, and he never knew if he ever could be full, because no matter how much he ate he seemed only to get thinner. As he ate, the kira ate him.
Back to cooking. Yoite that particular morning was trying to do several things : 1, show gratitude for the new home he had been given, 2. actually be useful, and 3. try and distract himself from the fact that he WAS NOT HAPPY. No. he was quite the opposite and for a very distinct reason.
Gau wasn't awake yet. And it was already 15 minutes later than he normally woke up every morning. This upset Yoite. Gau was meticulous to a fault and through that he was somehow almost fearless in the face of every new day. Fearless. Yes, that was a rather fitting word for Gau considering Gau was the first person who had ever blatantly put his finger in the kira-user's face whilst lecturing him about failing shamefully at a mission and thus failing to serve justice in the world.
Yes. that memory. The memory that had made Yoite wary when Gau had first arrived in Kannagara.
The memory that had now become almost a fond one for Yoite. That fearlessness had manifested itself in many ways... but most poignantly when Gau hadn't been afraid to take his hand. The kira-using hands. He hadn't even hesitated. He had never ceased doing so. And somehow, since living together that courage had made a sturdy home for Yoite... and had made him become unwittingly dependent on Gau.
Gau was...family.
SO WHY WASN'T HE AWAKE?
Now it had been 16 minutes past Gau's wake up time! Had Yoite not been so afraid of barging in on Raikou doing something possible traumatizing, lord knows what, then Yoite might have gone up there and dragged his new "home" out of his very futon.
But alas, Yoite was not so courageous as Gau so he remained.
Cooking.
Standing over the counter with a waist apron tied over his beige turtleneck, his jacket cast aside sloppily across the floor.
Warm steam filled the kitchen and the tea kettle began whistling with a shrill tinny melody that Yoite couldn't hear until it had gotten so loud that his head ached and the birds that had been twittering on the porch flittered away.
Setting down a small bowl of steamed rice and a simply seasoned broiled fish, a commonplace Japanese breakfast, down at Gau's normal seat, Yoite moved to get the teapot from where it hung over the fire.
Status: Active / Closed
Style: Prose
Where: The house the Nabari cast is staying at in Raisato
When: Week 5, Day 6, morning a few hours after Gau's erotic dream.
Rating: PG to PG-13 I'd Imagine. I Imagined wrong, R / NC-17 For teenage boy exploration.
Summary: Follow up to the events after Yoite's nightmare, Yoite's voice post, and Gau's dream. There are things they need to tie up.
Watch the hot water, kid
It was hard not to think of Yukimi as Yoite cooked. Hard not to remember how clumsily he had spilled honey-water and lemon juice all over the counters when he was first learning. And hard not to hear that voice chiding him, sternly but with a fatherly gentleness that Yukimi would never admit to because of course he "hated dealing with brats."
The corner of Yoite's mouth almost quirked as the word danced through his mind.
brat
Yukimi had always called him that. Brat or kid, which at first was directed less at Yoite and more at Hattori for saddling him with voiceless, lifeless 14 year old to watch over... to watch slowly die. Yukimi had born the brunt of Yoite's illness, wrapping blankets around him in the cold of night... and rushing him to the hospital whenever Yoite collapsed. The words brat and kid came to mean friend and family. Home.
Yukimi had been his home... or as the man had put it "a place to take shelter from the rain."
But now Yoite didn't have that home. Didn't know if he'd ever return to it. Not that he deserved to it was just....
...cooking. Yoite refocused himself on cooking. He wasn't good at it per say, but Yukimi had taught him enough to get by. After having to cook 3 or 4 times the normal serving sizes for two men Yukimi had had enough and decided that Yoite would need at least some capability of feeding himself. It was dangerous, in fact, for him not to. Yoite was always starving. Constantly starving. As the kira took away his senses of taste and smell it also seemed to take away his ability to ever feel full, and he never knew if he ever could be full, because no matter how much he ate he seemed only to get thinner. As he ate, the kira ate him.
Back to cooking. Yoite that particular morning was trying to do several things : 1, show gratitude for the new home he had been given, 2. actually be useful, and 3. try and distract himself from the fact that he WAS NOT HAPPY. No. he was quite the opposite and for a very distinct reason.
Gau wasn't awake yet. And it was already 15 minutes later than he normally woke up every morning. This upset Yoite. Gau was meticulous to a fault and through that he was somehow almost fearless in the face of every new day. Fearless. Yes, that was a rather fitting word for Gau considering Gau was the first person who had ever blatantly put his finger in the kira-user's face whilst lecturing him about failing shamefully at a mission and thus failing to serve justice in the world.
Yes. that memory. The memory that had made Yoite wary when Gau had first arrived in Kannagara.
The memory that had now become almost a fond one for Yoite. That fearlessness had manifested itself in many ways... but most poignantly when Gau hadn't been afraid to take his hand. The kira-using hands. He hadn't even hesitated. He had never ceased doing so. And somehow, since living together that courage had made a sturdy home for Yoite... and had made him become unwittingly dependent on Gau.
Gau was...family.
SO WHY WASN'T HE AWAKE?
Now it had been 16 minutes past Gau's wake up time! Had Yoite not been so afraid of barging in on Raikou doing something possible traumatizing, lord knows what, then Yoite might have gone up there and dragged his new "home" out of his very futon.
But alas, Yoite was not so courageous as Gau so he remained.
Cooking.
Standing over the counter with a waist apron tied over his beige turtleneck, his jacket cast aside sloppily across the floor.
Warm steam filled the kitchen and the tea kettle began whistling with a shrill tinny melody that Yoite couldn't hear until it had gotten so loud that his head ached and the birds that had been twittering on the porch flittered away.
Setting down a small bowl of steamed rice and a simply seasoned broiled fish, a commonplace Japanese breakfast, down at Gau's normal seat, Yoite moved to get the teapot from where it hung over the fire.