(no subject)
A small creature strolls in, looking utterly lost. That’s how Gabriel tends to view his clients-they are so far and few between, and he spends so little time outside the shop. But he relishes every opportunity to help, no matter how small.
“Hello,” he murmurs, looking up from his current project, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips. “Welcome to Gray and Son’s.”
The Asian man smiles wanly in return, feet shifting awkwardly as he tries to avoid Gabriel’s too-steady gaze. He makes no move to step into the shop-caught like a deer in headlights.
Gabriel chuckles easily, gesturing to the smaller man. “Don’t stand out there in the cold!” he admonishes, not quite feeling the sentiment. He had been working on this one Sylar timepiece for ages, and he almost had it…
The stranger traipses slowly across the wooden floor, eyeing the dust that paints the walls suspiciously, as if it might jump off and attack him at any moment. “Ha… lo,” he says carefully, almond eyes narrowing as he approaches the counter.
“Gabriel Gray,” he offers, pushing his magnifying glasses up his nose, eyes becoming imperceptibly large, and snakes out a hand for the foreigner to shake.
Hiro ducks his head the slightest bit, stopping his bow short to take Gabriel’s hand, imitating the other man’s earlier action by shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Hiro Nakamura.”
Gabriel pulls the outstretched appendage toward himself over the case and watches curiously as Hiro’s sweater slides up to expose a large-faced watch that marks each hour boldly with a starkly black kanji numeral.
He releases Hiro’s hand and inclines his head toward the object, long fingers hovering millimeters from its face. He pauses in his examination to look up into the other man’s eyes, the contact much too intense for its simplicity. Hiro looks away, face heating.
“Your timepiece has stopped, Mr Nakamura,” he says breathlessly, removing the watch from Hiro’s wrist tenderly.
Hiro isn’t sure he wants it fixed-it is trapped just a minute, a precise sixty seconds, before Charlie had been killed. He feels that it’s his obligation to preserve the memory, but doesn’t have the words to express this to the eager watchmaker.
“Mista Gray,” Hiro says tearfully, moving his arm to wipe it across his eyes, displacing his glasses. “I make big mistake.”
Gabriel freezes. He wants to fix it, whatever it is. But he deals with clocks, and they don’t cry, or love, or feel loss…
“Um.” Gabriel sets the exotic timepiece down and wrings his hands nervously, cheek giving way to a facial tic as he chews it relentlessly. “I…”
Hiro gives a large sniff and blinks his blearied eyes. “A bad man killed my friend.”
Gabriel moves around the counter to place a hand on the man’s shoulder, completely unsure of how to place himself. He feels like a posable doll at the mercy of some greater player who might come along and move his limbs for him (if he had such a desire).
“And it’s my fault.”
Gabriel can’t fix this pain that infests Hiro, the pain that is doubtlessly tearing him apart. He clings to Gabriel, soaking his sweater vest with long unshed tears; muttering a choked apology for each one that falls.
He doesn’t know what to do; he just doesn’t have the experience with people to know how to make this right-to know he can’t make it right.
“I-I’m sorry-I…” he trails off again, evidence of his own empathy wetting his cheek. He is surprised at the sudden heat-he hasn’t cried in such a long time. He places an awkward hand on Hiro’s neck and tries to be comforting, but what does one do when pounced by a grieving stranger? Gabriel could hardly deal with normal social occurrences.
Hiro pulls away, straightening himself and cleaning his glasses. “I… sorry, sorry, I…” He frowns, rubbing at the wetness on his face. “Sorry,” it’s forceful, but so is the door-slam that follows, leaving Gabriel to contemplate the discarded wristwatch.
It’s only been a moment.
“Hello,” he murmurs, looking up from his current project, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips. “Welcome to Gray and Son’s.”
The Asian man smiles wanly in return, feet shifting awkwardly as he tries to avoid Gabriel’s too-steady gaze. He makes no move to step into the shop-caught like a deer in headlights.
Gabriel chuckles easily, gesturing to the smaller man. “Don’t stand out there in the cold!” he admonishes, not quite feeling the sentiment. He had been working on this one Sylar timepiece for ages, and he almost had it…
The stranger traipses slowly across the wooden floor, eyeing the dust that paints the walls suspiciously, as if it might jump off and attack him at any moment. “Ha… lo,” he says carefully, almond eyes narrowing as he approaches the counter.
“Gabriel Gray,” he offers, pushing his magnifying glasses up his nose, eyes becoming imperceptibly large, and snakes out a hand for the foreigner to shake.
Hiro ducks his head the slightest bit, stopping his bow short to take Gabriel’s hand, imitating the other man’s earlier action by shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Hiro Nakamura.”
Gabriel pulls the outstretched appendage toward himself over the case and watches curiously as Hiro’s sweater slides up to expose a large-faced watch that marks each hour boldly with a starkly black kanji numeral.
He releases Hiro’s hand and inclines his head toward the object, long fingers hovering millimeters from its face. He pauses in his examination to look up into the other man’s eyes, the contact much too intense for its simplicity. Hiro looks away, face heating.
“Your timepiece has stopped, Mr Nakamura,” he says breathlessly, removing the watch from Hiro’s wrist tenderly.
Hiro isn’t sure he wants it fixed-it is trapped just a minute, a precise sixty seconds, before Charlie had been killed. He feels that it’s his obligation to preserve the memory, but doesn’t have the words to express this to the eager watchmaker.
“Mista Gray,” Hiro says tearfully, moving his arm to wipe it across his eyes, displacing his glasses. “I make big mistake.”
Gabriel freezes. He wants to fix it, whatever it is. But he deals with clocks, and they don’t cry, or love, or feel loss…
“Um.” Gabriel sets the exotic timepiece down and wrings his hands nervously, cheek giving way to a facial tic as he chews it relentlessly. “I…”
Hiro gives a large sniff and blinks his blearied eyes. “A bad man killed my friend.”
Gabriel moves around the counter to place a hand on the man’s shoulder, completely unsure of how to place himself. He feels like a posable doll at the mercy of some greater player who might come along and move his limbs for him (if he had such a desire).
“And it’s my fault.”
Gabriel can’t fix this pain that infests Hiro, the pain that is doubtlessly tearing him apart. He clings to Gabriel, soaking his sweater vest with long unshed tears; muttering a choked apology for each one that falls.
He doesn’t know what to do; he just doesn’t have the experience with people to know how to make this right-to know he can’t make it right.
“I-I’m sorry-I…” he trails off again, evidence of his own empathy wetting his cheek. He is surprised at the sudden heat-he hasn’t cried in such a long time. He places an awkward hand on Hiro’s neck and tries to be comforting, but what does one do when pounced by a grieving stranger? Gabriel could hardly deal with normal social occurrences.
Hiro pulls away, straightening himself and cleaning his glasses. “I… sorry, sorry, I…” He frowns, rubbing at the wetness on his face. “Sorry,” it’s forceful, but so is the door-slam that follows, leaving Gabriel to contemplate the discarded wristwatch.
It’s only been a moment.