House in my Head Ficbits

[puella_nerdii]

When I was on the phone with Mith this evening, I started talking about how I basically visualize the characters I write as a group of people all living together in a house in my head. And sometimes this leads to interesting things -- like Jim Kirk and Faith making eyes at one another, which the saner people in the metaphorical house try to

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[puella_nerdii]

Lithuania can't remember the last time he let himself soak like this; the steam washes over his skin, settles deep into his pores, and he sighs, which makes some of the soap bubbles slosh around. He doesn't even start scrubbing yet, just reaches for the shampoo and works it into a thick lather --

Someone pounds on the door. "I'll be out in a few minutes!" Lithuania calls.

Apparently, he isn't overheard, because the door creaks open, but he's facing away from it so he can't tell who just --

"Sorry," and that's Hisoka's voice, "I didn't hear you -- "

Hisoka stops. Water drips from the faucet's head, splashes into the tub.

"...sorry," Hisoka says, and it's so unusual for him to repeat himself -- particularly for him to repeat that -- that Lithuania turns around. Hisoka flushes, stares at the floor, scuffs the tile with his sneaker. "I'll use the one downstairs..."

"Hisoka, it's fine -- what's wrong?"

Hisoka swallows, and still doesn't quite look at Lithuania. "Is that why you never take your shirt off?"

-- oh. The heat hangs thick in the air, weighs on Lithuania's chest, and he really ought to clear it before he even tries to...to explain, to communicate.

"Among the reasons, yes," Lithuania says carefully. "It's all right, really. They're very old."

"They don't feel old," Hisoka counters, and that's right, he's an empath and there are memories knotted up in those scars, weathered and deep...

"You don't need to worry about me."

"I'm not worried!" he snaps. "I just -- I don't like seeing them, all right?"

Lithuania's silent. Hisoka crosses his arms and clutches them, his hands tenting nearly into claws, and stares up at the ceiling. He needn't say anything; Lithuania understands.

"Is that why you don't like to be touched?" he asks, quietly.

Hisoka starts, flinches as though Lithuania's punched him , which wasn't his intent at all; he hopes he didn't scare the boy off. "Is what?"

Lithuania says, "Scars."

"I hated it before that." And Hisoka's voice dissipates, like the steam.

[twistedsheets10]

ILU. ♥

Oh Hisoka. ♥

[puella_nerdii]

♥

He is such a FUN bittysurly thing to play with, isn't he?

[twistedsheets10]

Oh yes he is. I miss you writing him, really.

(...now that I think about it, it must have been difficult for him to live in 'this' house, with his empathy and Russia.)