[fanfic] Go-onger - Sync.
Title: Sync.
Genre: family, slice-of-life
Characters: Hiroto, Miu
Rating: K
Word Count: 696
Summary: Post-series, possibly AU-ish. Of course, Miu would know about Hiroto's weird new habit.
Notes: It might seem weird to say, but I love their codependency. Random note -- this is the first fic I've written in present tense! I hope I get all the tensing right... >.<
Hibiscus.
African violet, kalanchoe, amaryllis, hyacinth, anthurium, peace lily...
Hiroto had never been interested in flowers before, though he's known that she'd always loved them so. Yet tonight as he looks across the room, he's now able to identify every single specimen. It has taken him a very long time to get to this point, and he's proud.
Arms folded, he looks over tonight's handiwork -- fettuccine alfredo with garlic shrimp. Hiroto is proud of this, too. He has also managed to get the cooking thing down pat. But the table had been set long ago; he supposes the once steaming pasta is now frigid, and that the wine has long lost its sparkle. Hiroto dares not touch either before he hears from her.
He crinkles his brow and looks out of the window. It is well after dark. She's so late today!
As if on cue, the ring sounds that very moment, and Hiroto nearly topples over himself in his dash to the telephone.
"Miu?" he gasps, as he grabs the receiver by end of ring two. He's not out of shape, but somehow a sprint of a few meters has him out of breath.
Only after his heaving quiets does he hear the familiar giggling on the other end of the line. "You're doing it again, aren't you?"
"What?"
"That thing you do."
There is a pause. Hiroto bites his tongue as he looks towards the dining room table. It is an immaculate setting... for two. For a man of logic, it makes no sense to cook for two if there is only one to eat. That's beyond obvious. As he turns back to the phone, he fishes for the excuse of the day.
"It's... because I don't know how to halve recipes."
"Stupid!" Her response is quick and annoyed. "You're stupid if you think I'd believe you're that stupid."
He can't quite tell if that's an insult or a compliment, but he laughs all the same. Yet his smile quickly fades and his lips are pressed in that hard line they're stuck in most of the time. When they part again, his voice is quiet and his words are slow.
"You were late today."
"Maybe I shouldn't call at all!"
Another pause. In the empty space between their words, Hiroto notes for the hundredth time how much space there is in the villa now that her things are gone. He wonders if she has the space she needs where she is now.
"You're growing up."
"Sure, whatever. Ani will always be Ani."
"I promise I won't do it again tomorrow."
"And I promise I won't call."
Her words disappoint Hiroto, but he knows she's lying... the same as him. The smile creeps back onto his face as he whispers into the receiver one last time.
"Good night."
"'Night."
She is the first to hang up, because she knows that he will always wait to hear a dial tone to cut the line on his end. Hiroto's like that, she muses. Her brother is the shiniest in the eleven dimensions... and only she knows how amazingly pathetic he can be.
Whether she likes it or not, she will always know.
Miu lays her phone on her own tiny kitchen table on the way to the window, pulling apart the heavy drapes. The morning sun is high in the sky, flooding her apartment with a warm, pleasant light.
Only now does she skip back to the table and take a seat, arranging a napkin in her lap. Her own meal is painfully plain; a tall stack of pancakes and a glass of cold milk. She raises her glance slightly to see the identical plate and glass opposite her. From that seat stares back one of those gattai figures her brother loves so much, and a stringed pair of boxing gloves she'd borrowed slung across the back of the chair.
She looks back to the stacks of pancakes. "Stupid Ani, using my excuse..."
Miu touches her glass against the one across the table before diving into her breakfast. As she drizzles syrup over her meal, she wonders about making pasta for dinner that night.
Genre: family, slice-of-life
Characters: Hiroto, Miu
Rating: K
Word Count: 696
Summary: Post-series, possibly AU-ish. Of course, Miu would know about Hiroto's weird new habit.
Notes: It might seem weird to say, but I love their codependency. Random note -- this is the first fic I've written in present tense! I hope I get all the tensing right... >.<
Hibiscus.
African violet, kalanchoe, amaryllis, hyacinth, anthurium, peace lily...
Hiroto had never been interested in flowers before, though he's known that she'd always loved them so. Yet tonight as he looks across the room, he's now able to identify every single specimen. It has taken him a very long time to get to this point, and he's proud.
Arms folded, he looks over tonight's handiwork -- fettuccine alfredo with garlic shrimp. Hiroto is proud of this, too. He has also managed to get the cooking thing down pat. But the table had been set long ago; he supposes the once steaming pasta is now frigid, and that the wine has long lost its sparkle. Hiroto dares not touch either before he hears from her.
He crinkles his brow and looks out of the window. It is well after dark. She's so late today!
As if on cue, the ring sounds that very moment, and Hiroto nearly topples over himself in his dash to the telephone.
"Miu?" he gasps, as he grabs the receiver by end of ring two. He's not out of shape, but somehow a sprint of a few meters has him out of breath.
Only after his heaving quiets does he hear the familiar giggling on the other end of the line. "You're doing it again, aren't you?"
"What?"
"That thing you do."
There is a pause. Hiroto bites his tongue as he looks towards the dining room table. It is an immaculate setting... for two. For a man of logic, it makes no sense to cook for two if there is only one to eat. That's beyond obvious. As he turns back to the phone, he fishes for the excuse of the day.
"It's... because I don't know how to halve recipes."
"Stupid!" Her response is quick and annoyed. "You're stupid if you think I'd believe you're that stupid."
He can't quite tell if that's an insult or a compliment, but he laughs all the same. Yet his smile quickly fades and his lips are pressed in that hard line they're stuck in most of the time. When they part again, his voice is quiet and his words are slow.
"You were late today."
"Maybe I shouldn't call at all!"
Another pause. In the empty space between their words, Hiroto notes for the hundredth time how much space there is in the villa now that her things are gone. He wonders if she has the space she needs where she is now.
"You're growing up."
"Sure, whatever. Ani will always be Ani."
"I promise I won't do it again tomorrow."
"And I promise I won't call."
Her words disappoint Hiroto, but he knows she's lying... the same as him. The smile creeps back onto his face as he whispers into the receiver one last time.
"Good night."
"'Night."
She is the first to hang up, because she knows that he will always wait to hear a dial tone to cut the line on his end. Hiroto's like that, she muses. Her brother is the shiniest in the eleven dimensions... and only she knows how amazingly pathetic he can be.
Whether she likes it or not, she will always know.
Miu lays her phone on her own tiny kitchen table on the way to the window, pulling apart the heavy drapes. The morning sun is high in the sky, flooding her apartment with a warm, pleasant light.
Only now does she skip back to the table and take a seat, arranging a napkin in her lap. Her own meal is painfully plain; a tall stack of pancakes and a glass of cold milk. She raises her glance slightly to see the identical plate and glass opposite her. From that seat stares back one of those gattai figures her brother loves so much, and a stringed pair of boxing gloves she'd borrowed slung across the back of the chair.
She looks back to the stacks of pancakes. "Stupid Ani, using my excuse..."
Miu touches her glass against the one across the table before diving into her breakfast. As she drizzles syrup over her meal, she wonders about making pasta for dinner that night.