krf | homesick
title: homesick
verse: kamen rider fourze
pairing: sakuta ryusei / nozama tomoko
summary: months of work and leaving her all clot up with deadlines in between glassy partitions, Ryusei wanted nothing more than to get away from all the crime fighting sessions.
notes: the attempt to brighten things up after the whole tw thin all my tokufics for queen yacchan. this one's a quickie drabble; the long shot will follow...soon-later...i think. (p.s: how do you grammar)
Tomoko heard the footsteps, loud and clear as they resonate in her mind the way fireworks do, chromatic colors burst and explode to sparks and marks of the sky. She knew what was coming and she remembered the numbers plastered against every calendar in the house. In fact, she had used a red marker and circled every one of them, drawing tiny exclamation marks and little hearts by the edge of it, going as far as to even put a mark on the virtual calendar that her phone has. Everything has been prepared, including the kind of show she was willing to put on.
And so as the sound of impatient footsteps grew louder, Tomoko realized that in a matter of seconds, the familiarity was descending down from the first floor towards the basement where her comfort zone of a glass office was built. It's funny how she could hear all the footsteps drumming from within an enclosed space where walls were supposedly built to block noises of all kind, no matter how boisterous or deafening it may be for it was purposely designed so she could concentrate on her drafts, her deadlines and her capability of being a writer. Tomoko used to joke that perhaps, it has been proven that she was indeed born as a psychic, as ridiculous as that sounds because really, you'd think being a psychic is weird for someone who used to read tarot cards and bought all kinds of witchcraft related things.
But you see, here's the thing; when you grew up reading tarot cards to predict the future, you could almost form an accurate guess of what comes up next--
Like when the lock of an office door switched opened and a thin crystalline sound of clang hit a button clashing waves against every wall, every fair ground, light footsteps forced a gravity pull sending small, amused smile across her lips, her eyes. She, however, pretended not to be bothered by it, despite the tugging and the yearning and the urge to just stop the strokes and the scribbles of her pen, to just jumped away from the business chair so she'd get herself caught in a mess of tangled touch and warm hugs. Tomoko likes to think of winter mornings full of cuddles and nuzzles when that happened.
"Are you seriously going to keep writing or can I get my hugs now?"
Tomoko giggled and put down her pen, stealing a final glance towards her uneven drafts of illustrations and writings. They were everywhere, on the table, on the floor and all around the room, some even made the wall their pin up shelter, not to mention the musky scent of china ink and drawing pen, traces and blotches of paint marking territories on her fingertips and on the floor. It was a wreck but it looks like she's not going to clear them up anytime soon.
"Hi there, Ryusei-san," she stifled a laughter when he scrunched a nose, looking extremely displeased, "welcome home."
"Welcome home? Really?" his voice raised an octave, "I was jet lagged and I-- wait, is that my sweatshirt?" Tomoko cracked a smile, picked herself off the comfortable black leather chair (she almost felt sorry for leaving it empty - no, really) to reveal a baggy dark blue sweatshirt that plopped down just a tad above her knees, sending signal fire flushing down his system Ryusei felt himself getting embarrassed (with too much staring!).
"You didn't want it the last time I bought it for you so technically, it's mine. Not yours," he watched her did her steps carefully, slowly, one second for one step, arms behind her back like a child attempting to ask for something she wasn't allowed to have, "it's too big for me but it's mine."
Ryusei sighed. But of course, it's Tomoko he was facing and she was the kind of stubborn girl he fell in love with, making it seems like winning an argument against her is somewhat invalid. It's ironic, embarrassing even, that all the harsh training and dangerous missions Ryusei went through didn't seem to work against her. He doesn't quite get it but Tomoko seems to have some sort of incoherent power against him, not with all the big wide eyes and witty little pouts she flashed against him.
Or maybe she really is a witch.
"How can you expect me to wear it-- it has a-- a cat face on it," he reasoned, pointing guilt towards the giant cartoon cat face on the sweatshirt, feeling even more heated when he saw how adorable she looked like with an over-sized attire. He coughed in disbelief for using such a word to describe something-- someone. Months of living together and yet he still couldn't bring himself to calm down whenever she's around. Oh god, Kengo and Yuki would start laughing at how ridiculous he is if they knew--
"Oh come on, it's adorable, Ryusei-kun."
He let the blush swept over his cheeks, let the butterflies swam in the pit of his stomach, let the love overwhelmed his system in a way he never allowed them before. He had been reluctant, almost scared by the idea of loving someone from afar, having to come and go when duties call and missions roll, having to leave her on the bed alone, probably falling asleep on the wrong side of the bed. He had been terrified of everything, of what-ifs and guilt and distance. What if he wasn't good enough for her? What if this, what they're going to be, is wrong? What if he left her too long she'd start to find someone else?
Ryusei spent all his time in the interpol drowning in those thoughts until one night, before he left for what sounded like the heaviest mission of all (stupid nuclear weapons and with a bunch of stupid underground terrorists performing stupid ridiculous lobotomy on citizens), she forced him to look into her eyes and promised (that felt solid, assuring and true) that she'd wait because she had chose him and it's going to be him who will be in her conscience regardless of time zones and distance and everything else.
And that was the first time he probably took notice on how much she had grown from being constantly worried for his well-being to being constantly believing in what he's doing.
"It's not going to be adorable on me," he shrugged, giving her the exact same smile he first gave her when they were in high school, "it's adorable on you though." he smirked when she frowned at the slight tone of flirtation. If there is one thing that she did to have transformed him almost completely, it's probably that crazy outburst of wanting to just be in their house all day long, watching useless romance dramas and laughing at ridiculous cartoons.
"Really?" she blinked, skipping small steps the way a rabbit would and tiptoed a little to reduce the height difference between them. It was Tomoko's turn to have her nose scrunched when they were a few inches from each other, lips almost touching and nose almost nuzzling, "I did notice and remember you coming home today, you know--" he had almost pulled her closer if she hadn't pulled away, inviting a disappointed sigh to escape from his lips-- "I guess it worked, ne. It pissed you off, didn't it--" she chuckled, twirling and posing like a magical girl (she must have been drugged by JK, he mused).
"C'mon," he groaned, "come here."
Ryusei didn't care if he sounded like an impatient, demanding, pushy boyfriend (because maybe he is; he just hadn't figured it out yet) and he sure as hell wasn't bothered by how much of a teenage boy drowning in a mud of hearts he's acting in that moment. All he could think of was how she threw (finally, finally after all the pretentious act of 'you were home after months and oh, alright, I'm fine') herself into his opened arms, how close they both were and how, in that exact second, he could just--
"Miss me?"
"That's a very stupid question, Tomoko-chan," he scolded, he giggled. Ryusei stroked her hair and recalled how she smells like forest fairy shrouded in vanilla mist and cinnamon barks, like a home he has been missing for months, "I can almost--"
"Whatever you're thinking, you have the permission to do it now."
"I thought you stopped reading my mind."
"Until you stop acting like we've just lived under the same roof yesterday by being all ridiculously nervous and dishonest then no, I won't--" she giggled, "you're not the only one that miss us, you know." her smile was reflected in his eyes when he closed the gap between them, sheepish and timid like it was the first time he kissed her (when it wasn't) but humble and confident as the gap of missing months slowly closed itself around them, confined space of feelings almost neglected but not - never - forgotten.
"I've--"
"Missed me," she smiled, "I know."
And he felt seventeen again, falling head over heels like it was the first bliss he ever embraced.
verse: kamen rider fourze
pairing: sakuta ryusei / nozama tomoko
summary: months of work and leaving her all clot up with deadlines in between glassy partitions, Ryusei wanted nothing more than to get away from all the crime fighting sessions.
notes: the attempt to brighten things up after the whole tw thin all my tokufics for queen yacchan. this one's a quickie drabble; the long shot will follow...soon-later...i think. (p.s: how do you grammar)
Tomoko heard the footsteps, loud and clear as they resonate in her mind the way fireworks do, chromatic colors burst and explode to sparks and marks of the sky. She knew what was coming and she remembered the numbers plastered against every calendar in the house. In fact, she had used a red marker and circled every one of them, drawing tiny exclamation marks and little hearts by the edge of it, going as far as to even put a mark on the virtual calendar that her phone has. Everything has been prepared, including the kind of show she was willing to put on.
And so as the sound of impatient footsteps grew louder, Tomoko realized that in a matter of seconds, the familiarity was descending down from the first floor towards the basement where her comfort zone of a glass office was built. It's funny how she could hear all the footsteps drumming from within an enclosed space where walls were supposedly built to block noises of all kind, no matter how boisterous or deafening it may be for it was purposely designed so she could concentrate on her drafts, her deadlines and her capability of being a writer. Tomoko used to joke that perhaps, it has been proven that she was indeed born as a psychic, as ridiculous as that sounds because really, you'd think being a psychic is weird for someone who used to read tarot cards and bought all kinds of witchcraft related things.
But you see, here's the thing; when you grew up reading tarot cards to predict the future, you could almost form an accurate guess of what comes up next--
Like when the lock of an office door switched opened and a thin crystalline sound of clang hit a button clashing waves against every wall, every fair ground, light footsteps forced a gravity pull sending small, amused smile across her lips, her eyes. She, however, pretended not to be bothered by it, despite the tugging and the yearning and the urge to just stop the strokes and the scribbles of her pen, to just jumped away from the business chair so she'd get herself caught in a mess of tangled touch and warm hugs. Tomoko likes to think of winter mornings full of cuddles and nuzzles when that happened.
"Are you seriously going to keep writing or can I get my hugs now?"
Tomoko giggled and put down her pen, stealing a final glance towards her uneven drafts of illustrations and writings. They were everywhere, on the table, on the floor and all around the room, some even made the wall their pin up shelter, not to mention the musky scent of china ink and drawing pen, traces and blotches of paint marking territories on her fingertips and on the floor. It was a wreck but it looks like she's not going to clear them up anytime soon.
"Hi there, Ryusei-san," she stifled a laughter when he scrunched a nose, looking extremely displeased, "welcome home."
"Welcome home? Really?" his voice raised an octave, "I was jet lagged and I-- wait, is that my sweatshirt?" Tomoko cracked a smile, picked herself off the comfortable black leather chair (she almost felt sorry for leaving it empty - no, really) to reveal a baggy dark blue sweatshirt that plopped down just a tad above her knees, sending signal fire flushing down his system Ryusei felt himself getting embarrassed (with too much staring!).
"You didn't want it the last time I bought it for you so technically, it's mine. Not yours," he watched her did her steps carefully, slowly, one second for one step, arms behind her back like a child attempting to ask for something she wasn't allowed to have, "it's too big for me but it's mine."
Ryusei sighed. But of course, it's Tomoko he was facing and she was the kind of stubborn girl he fell in love with, making it seems like winning an argument against her is somewhat invalid. It's ironic, embarrassing even, that all the harsh training and dangerous missions Ryusei went through didn't seem to work against her. He doesn't quite get it but Tomoko seems to have some sort of incoherent power against him, not with all the big wide eyes and witty little pouts she flashed against him.
Or maybe she really is a witch.
"How can you expect me to wear it-- it has a-- a cat face on it," he reasoned, pointing guilt towards the giant cartoon cat face on the sweatshirt, feeling even more heated when he saw how adorable she looked like with an over-sized attire. He coughed in disbelief for using such a word to describe something-- someone. Months of living together and yet he still couldn't bring himself to calm down whenever she's around. Oh god, Kengo and Yuki would start laughing at how ridiculous he is if they knew--
"Oh come on, it's adorable, Ryusei-kun."
He let the blush swept over his cheeks, let the butterflies swam in the pit of his stomach, let the love overwhelmed his system in a way he never allowed them before. He had been reluctant, almost scared by the idea of loving someone from afar, having to come and go when duties call and missions roll, having to leave her on the bed alone, probably falling asleep on the wrong side of the bed. He had been terrified of everything, of what-ifs and guilt and distance. What if he wasn't good enough for her? What if this, what they're going to be, is wrong? What if he left her too long she'd start to find someone else?
Ryusei spent all his time in the interpol drowning in those thoughts until one night, before he left for what sounded like the heaviest mission of all (stupid nuclear weapons and with a bunch of stupid underground terrorists performing stupid ridiculous lobotomy on citizens), she forced him to look into her eyes and promised (that felt solid, assuring and true) that she'd wait because she had chose him and it's going to be him who will be in her conscience regardless of time zones and distance and everything else.
And that was the first time he probably took notice on how much she had grown from being constantly worried for his well-being to being constantly believing in what he's doing.
"It's not going to be adorable on me," he shrugged, giving her the exact same smile he first gave her when they were in high school, "it's adorable on you though." he smirked when she frowned at the slight tone of flirtation. If there is one thing that she did to have transformed him almost completely, it's probably that crazy outburst of wanting to just be in their house all day long, watching useless romance dramas and laughing at ridiculous cartoons.
"Really?" she blinked, skipping small steps the way a rabbit would and tiptoed a little to reduce the height difference between them. It was Tomoko's turn to have her nose scrunched when they were a few inches from each other, lips almost touching and nose almost nuzzling, "I did notice and remember you coming home today, you know--" he had almost pulled her closer if she hadn't pulled away, inviting a disappointed sigh to escape from his lips-- "I guess it worked, ne. It pissed you off, didn't it--" she chuckled, twirling and posing like a magical girl (she must have been drugged by JK, he mused).
"C'mon," he groaned, "come here."
Ryusei didn't care if he sounded like an impatient, demanding, pushy boyfriend (because maybe he is; he just hadn't figured it out yet) and he sure as hell wasn't bothered by how much of a teenage boy drowning in a mud of hearts he's acting in that moment. All he could think of was how she threw (finally, finally after all the pretentious act of 'you were home after months and oh, alright, I'm fine') herself into his opened arms, how close they both were and how, in that exact second, he could just--
"Miss me?"
"That's a very stupid question, Tomoko-chan," he scolded, he giggled. Ryusei stroked her hair and recalled how she smells like forest fairy shrouded in vanilla mist and cinnamon barks, like a home he has been missing for months, "I can almost--"
"Whatever you're thinking, you have the permission to do it now."
"I thought you stopped reading my mind."
"Until you stop acting like we've just lived under the same roof yesterday by being all ridiculously nervous and dishonest then no, I won't--" she giggled, "you're not the only one that miss us, you know." her smile was reflected in his eyes when he closed the gap between them, sheepish and timid like it was the first time he kissed her (when it wasn't) but humble and confident as the gap of missing months slowly closed itself around them, confined space of feelings almost neglected but not - never - forgotten.
"I've--"
"Missed me," she smiled, "I know."
And he felt seventeen again, falling head over heels like it was the first bliss he ever embraced.