[APH] Baby don't lose the light in your eyes
Title: Baby don't lose the light in your eyes
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: Greece, Egypt, OCs
Genre/Rating/Warnings: hurt/comfort, family/G/AU-Six Degrees verse
Summary/Excerpt: Herakles gets a cold.
A/N: Part 2/3 of the help_japan offers for chromatic_coma! Hope you enjoy :') It's 1.30am right now and I'm horrible with titles ^^;
Baby don't lose the light in your eyes
It was their second April in Osaka.
"Ah. They aren't open."
"That's rare."
Hassan listened to the hustle and bustle of Dotombori outside the corrugated aluminium store gate that indicated Fruit Blends was indeed closed. Weak sunlight came in through the gaps and so did voices, mostly of those who passed by near enough to be heard wondering why Dotombori's lighthouse wasn't brightening the shopping street with their neon.
He drowned out further noises with the furious whir of the juicer. Oranges, apples, carrots and no ice. Good for people with colds.
Herakles was sick. He was on the upper floor of the shop, tightly wrapped in both their futons, shivering with an overwashed, alcohol-soaked towel on his forehead. It could be overwork. They were trying to extend their store hours from the usual 8am-9pm to 7am-11pm. They'd wake up at dawn and go to bed past midnight. They had no obligations to keep holidays they didn't really follow. Besides, people were relieved to see their shop open when all the rest were closed.
It could be the lack of vitamins and decent meals. Last week was restocking week. All they consumed were crackers and coffee to be able to pay for the rent, utility bills and more supplies. It could also be the cold. Hassan wasn't sure. They couldn't afford to go to the doctor for a check-up. He stuck a straw in the glass of juice and took it to Herakles so he wouldn't have to get up and drink.
The man groaned in protest when Hassan tried to poke the straw past his lips.
"…what is that."
"Juice. It'll help you breathe better. Or lessen the headache. Whichever happens first."
Herakles rolled over, took a sip and returned under the covers. Hassan smoothed his hair and replaced the towel on his head.
"Can you eat?"
Herakles shrugged a negative.
"I'll stop by the konbini to get dinner and medicines. You stay put." And with that, he left through the back door.
"Oh! Hassan-san, welcome!" greeted the cashier from the nearby AM/PM. "What brings you out?"
"Herakles is sick," he replied conversationally as he surveyed the drinks in the cooler before selecting two Gatorades.
"Sick?" the cashier repeated. "That's rare."
"Most likely the cold," Hassan amended. "Our heater isn't the best. Are these decongestants?" He asked and held up a blue box of pills.
"Yep. They aren't no-drowse though."
"It's fine," Hassan said and moved to the shelves with ready-made meals. He picked up two tonkatsus with hefty servings of vegetables before going to the counter to pay.
"That'll be 1840 yen," said the cashier and after a pause added. "Y'know what, let me throw this in." He slipped in two cans of hot lemon tea in the plastic bag. "Free. They're almost gone anyway."
"Thank you very much."
"Don't mention it."
Hassan hurried back to the store and shivered when he took off his coat. He froze when he heard muffled sobs from the upper floor. He jogged up their narrow stairs in mild panic and rushed to Herakles' side.
"Hera? Hera…"
"It hurts," Herakles sobbed. He rolled around before burying his face in the sweaty sheets and crying even harder.
"Hush brother," Hassan said soothingly and used the towel to wipe the tears off his face. "You'll feel worse if you keep crying. Take some medicine and go back to slee-"
"I want to go home."
Hassan's heart sank.
"Brother, I want to go home," Herakles repeated, softer but no more sadder than the first. Hassan pushed aside his bag of groceries and helped him sit up. "Come, blow your nose."
Herakles did as he was told and Hassan hugged him tight. He felt his brother's body tense in surprise before he was hugged back. Herakles resumed crying on Hassan's shoulder. His shirt was stained and the grip on his back was almost painful. Hassan breathed to keep himself from crying too.
"I want to go home," Herakles said. "It's cold and we don’t have anything to eat. Our business is doing horribly and we can't understand anyone that well. My head hurts and the floor is hard and god, we've worked so hard, why isn't it going anywhere?"
"Ssh. Hera, stop. Please," Hassan pleaded quietly as Herakles' shudders became more and more violent while he fought back hiccups. "You're sick and you're just saying things."
But who was he kidding. What Herakles said was true. Going to Japan and making a living with virtually nothing for capital was turning out to be a bad idea. The rent along Dotombori was very high and no one was really interested in buying mere fruit shakes when there were much more enticing smoothie bars and specialty cafes that served a far better variety of drinks. Advertising was definitely out of the question. Expanding their menu could work but it was seldom enough they got customers, much less customers who tried their new fruit combinations.
What they weren't spending on trying to survive as honest entrepreneurs they kept for themselves, more for food and simple comforts like coffee. Probably the only things Hassan was truly grateful for were the fact that they weren't in debt yet and that they were wise enough not to get caught up with loan sharks.
It was too soon to give up.
"We don't have a place to go back to," Hassan said softly, stroking Herakles' back. "You know that."
"I do," his brother answered hoarsely. "It's just that…it might have been better after all…to stay there. We…we could have continued grandma's business."
"That's ridiculous. They sold everything of value after she died. Neither mine nor your parents wanted to support us after that. You think they would've given us allowance if they can keep it for themselves instead?"
"That's cruel," Herakles breathed. Hassan didn't answer him. "Then…what if they saw us now and…"
"They'd tell us we were well and truly stupid to even do this in the first place," Hassan smiled. "They'd say they were absolutely right in saying we'd come crawling back within months."
Herakles pulled away and stared disconcertedly at the tangle of sheets covering him. Hassan took the opportunity to crack open the bottle of Gatorade and pop out a decongestant from a sheet of pills. He placed these in his brother's hands.
"You were the one who wanted to go far away, to someplace where no one knew us, so we could make something for ourselves. We've made it this far and long, Hera."
"What we've done these past two years was nothing but a bitter struggle to keep us from dying on the streets," Herakles said before taking the medicine. "No one cares if we starve here…"
Hassan sighed, wondering what more he could say so his brother would stop thinking this way. They still had a roof over their heads, dinner for the night, clothes on their bodies and a business to keep running. It was unusual for him to be so pessimistic, but after realizing how neither of them really complained about their situation ever since they arrived in Osaka, this fever was making all those bottled feelings come out.
"Please get some sleep-"
There came a knock from downstairs. The brothers exchanged puzzled looks.
"Who could that be…?" Herakles asked.
"The mailman?" Hassan ventured.
"At this hour? Besides, all our bills have been delivered."
"I'll check."
To their surprise, it was a part-timer from AM/PM and the elderly couple that owned the Everything Store down the street, the one that always had a sale.
"The manager heard from Fukuda-san that Herakles-san was sick," the part-timer said good naturedly and heaved two boxes of fruits up their narrow staircase. "There are excess orders. He said you can have them."
"We too thought you could have some hot soup on a cold day like this," added the elderly wife from the Everything Store. She and her husband climbed up the stairs carrying a worn soup tureen. "We wanted to try the new soup packs that came in with today's inventory."
Hassan and Herakles watched dumbfounded as these people welcomed themselves in their home and began arranging their foodstuffs on the floor along with their convenience store dinner. The elderly wife poured out some soup into their coffee cups as her husband washed some fruits in the bathroom sink.
"Heeeh," the part-timer said, looking around. His head was a good foot away from the ceiling. "It's small but surprisingly neat and tidy. You two share this room?"
The brothers nodded.
"It reminds me of my aniki's apartment in Ikebukuro," he continued. "He pays for his own tuition so the place is really old and small. There's hardly anything in it except for his PC."
"Come and eat you two," said the elderly wife. "Stand up Herakles-san, we'll try and air out those futons."
Hassan helped Herakles to his feet as the elderly husband fluffed up their futons and hung them over their small cabinet of clothes and valuables. The part-timer scratched his head as the brothers dazedly sat down on the floor and began to drink the soup poured out for them.
"I should be off. I'll tell the manager you two are doing fine."
"Why are you doing all this?" Herakles asked quietly.
The elderly couple looked at him while the part-timer shrugged. "Why not? I mean, you guys always work hard. You don't even take a holiday. Your store's the first to open and the last to close. Your drinks are really good and cheap, though they could use a bit of variety. Everyone has them after work so it's comforting. You two are also great with the tourists…y'know, when they're lost. You don't hesitate to help. Ah…did I say too much?"
The elderly wife chuckled. "You know Akira-san, I remember the first time these two boys came here, they did all sorts of jobs to raise money for themselves and this store. They juggled six part-times each and went for weeks without sleeping. And they hardly spoke a word of Japanese!"
"Eh? Seriously?" the part-timer remarked, curious.
"Manami-san from Body Line used to say these two looked too good not to be given jobs. It was already unusual for foreigners to do so in the first place," she said.
"That's…" Herakles began.
"You boys have helped everyone on this street one way or another," the elderly wife continued pointedly. Her husband nodded encouragingly. "It wouldn't hurt to return the favor."
There came another knock from downstairs and the part-timer let in several more people. They were employees and shop owners along Dotombori. It was after hours and shifts were over. Almost all of them bore some sort of present, a get-well gift, food, fruits and even flowers and cards. Soon, the small room was filled with lively talk and people.
Hassan looked at Herakles with wide eyes. Herakles himself looked close to tears again. It was difficult to describe, this overwhelming feeling of joy and being touched rapidly filling his chest.
"We missed you today!" some employees called.
"That's right! Make sure you get better Herakles-san!"
"Aya-chan here misses seeing you."
"Yuki-chan be quiet!"
"We're…" Hassan began, biting his lip in the hopes of containing himself. "We're definitely opening the shop tomorrow!" He raised his fist in the air.
Herakles sniffed and laughed as cheers erupted all around them. Indeed their tiny home had never been so lively. The message was simple. There were people who cared for them here in Osaka. If that couldn't be called home enough, they didn't know what could.
END
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: Greece, Egypt, OCs
Genre/Rating/Warnings: hurt/comfort, family/G/AU-Six Degrees verse
Summary/Excerpt: Herakles gets a cold.
A/N: Part 2/3 of the help_japan offers for chromatic_coma! Hope you enjoy :') It's 1.30am right now and I'm horrible with titles ^^;
Baby don't lose the light in your eyes
It was their second April in Osaka.
"Ah. They aren't open."
"That's rare."
Hassan listened to the hustle and bustle of Dotombori outside the corrugated aluminium store gate that indicated Fruit Blends was indeed closed. Weak sunlight came in through the gaps and so did voices, mostly of those who passed by near enough to be heard wondering why Dotombori's lighthouse wasn't brightening the shopping street with their neon.
He drowned out further noises with the furious whir of the juicer. Oranges, apples, carrots and no ice. Good for people with colds.
Herakles was sick. He was on the upper floor of the shop, tightly wrapped in both their futons, shivering with an overwashed, alcohol-soaked towel on his forehead. It could be overwork. They were trying to extend their store hours from the usual 8am-9pm to 7am-11pm. They'd wake up at dawn and go to bed past midnight. They had no obligations to keep holidays they didn't really follow. Besides, people were relieved to see their shop open when all the rest were closed.
It could be the lack of vitamins and decent meals. Last week was restocking week. All they consumed were crackers and coffee to be able to pay for the rent, utility bills and more supplies. It could also be the cold. Hassan wasn't sure. They couldn't afford to go to the doctor for a check-up. He stuck a straw in the glass of juice and took it to Herakles so he wouldn't have to get up and drink.
The man groaned in protest when Hassan tried to poke the straw past his lips.
"…what is that."
"Juice. It'll help you breathe better. Or lessen the headache. Whichever happens first."
Herakles rolled over, took a sip and returned under the covers. Hassan smoothed his hair and replaced the towel on his head.
"Can you eat?"
Herakles shrugged a negative.
"I'll stop by the konbini to get dinner and medicines. You stay put." And with that, he left through the back door.
"Oh! Hassan-san, welcome!" greeted the cashier from the nearby AM/PM. "What brings you out?"
"Herakles is sick," he replied conversationally as he surveyed the drinks in the cooler before selecting two Gatorades.
"Sick?" the cashier repeated. "That's rare."
"Most likely the cold," Hassan amended. "Our heater isn't the best. Are these decongestants?" He asked and held up a blue box of pills.
"Yep. They aren't no-drowse though."
"It's fine," Hassan said and moved to the shelves with ready-made meals. He picked up two tonkatsus with hefty servings of vegetables before going to the counter to pay.
"That'll be 1840 yen," said the cashier and after a pause added. "Y'know what, let me throw this in." He slipped in two cans of hot lemon tea in the plastic bag. "Free. They're almost gone anyway."
"Thank you very much."
"Don't mention it."
Hassan hurried back to the store and shivered when he took off his coat. He froze when he heard muffled sobs from the upper floor. He jogged up their narrow stairs in mild panic and rushed to Herakles' side.
"Hera? Hera…"
"It hurts," Herakles sobbed. He rolled around before burying his face in the sweaty sheets and crying even harder.
"Hush brother," Hassan said soothingly and used the towel to wipe the tears off his face. "You'll feel worse if you keep crying. Take some medicine and go back to slee-"
"I want to go home."
Hassan's heart sank.
"Brother, I want to go home," Herakles repeated, softer but no more sadder than the first. Hassan pushed aside his bag of groceries and helped him sit up. "Come, blow your nose."
Herakles did as he was told and Hassan hugged him tight. He felt his brother's body tense in surprise before he was hugged back. Herakles resumed crying on Hassan's shoulder. His shirt was stained and the grip on his back was almost painful. Hassan breathed to keep himself from crying too.
"I want to go home," Herakles said. "It's cold and we don’t have anything to eat. Our business is doing horribly and we can't understand anyone that well. My head hurts and the floor is hard and god, we've worked so hard, why isn't it going anywhere?"
"Ssh. Hera, stop. Please," Hassan pleaded quietly as Herakles' shudders became more and more violent while he fought back hiccups. "You're sick and you're just saying things."
But who was he kidding. What Herakles said was true. Going to Japan and making a living with virtually nothing for capital was turning out to be a bad idea. The rent along Dotombori was very high and no one was really interested in buying mere fruit shakes when there were much more enticing smoothie bars and specialty cafes that served a far better variety of drinks. Advertising was definitely out of the question. Expanding their menu could work but it was seldom enough they got customers, much less customers who tried their new fruit combinations.
What they weren't spending on trying to survive as honest entrepreneurs they kept for themselves, more for food and simple comforts like coffee. Probably the only things Hassan was truly grateful for were the fact that they weren't in debt yet and that they were wise enough not to get caught up with loan sharks.
It was too soon to give up.
"We don't have a place to go back to," Hassan said softly, stroking Herakles' back. "You know that."
"I do," his brother answered hoarsely. "It's just that…it might have been better after all…to stay there. We…we could have continued grandma's business."
"That's ridiculous. They sold everything of value after she died. Neither mine nor your parents wanted to support us after that. You think they would've given us allowance if they can keep it for themselves instead?"
"That's cruel," Herakles breathed. Hassan didn't answer him. "Then…what if they saw us now and…"
"They'd tell us we were well and truly stupid to even do this in the first place," Hassan smiled. "They'd say they were absolutely right in saying we'd come crawling back within months."
Herakles pulled away and stared disconcertedly at the tangle of sheets covering him. Hassan took the opportunity to crack open the bottle of Gatorade and pop out a decongestant from a sheet of pills. He placed these in his brother's hands.
"You were the one who wanted to go far away, to someplace where no one knew us, so we could make something for ourselves. We've made it this far and long, Hera."
"What we've done these past two years was nothing but a bitter struggle to keep us from dying on the streets," Herakles said before taking the medicine. "No one cares if we starve here…"
Hassan sighed, wondering what more he could say so his brother would stop thinking this way. They still had a roof over their heads, dinner for the night, clothes on their bodies and a business to keep running. It was unusual for him to be so pessimistic, but after realizing how neither of them really complained about their situation ever since they arrived in Osaka, this fever was making all those bottled feelings come out.
"Please get some sleep-"
There came a knock from downstairs. The brothers exchanged puzzled looks.
"Who could that be…?" Herakles asked.
"The mailman?" Hassan ventured.
"At this hour? Besides, all our bills have been delivered."
"I'll check."
To their surprise, it was a part-timer from AM/PM and the elderly couple that owned the Everything Store down the street, the one that always had a sale.
"The manager heard from Fukuda-san that Herakles-san was sick," the part-timer said good naturedly and heaved two boxes of fruits up their narrow staircase. "There are excess orders. He said you can have them."
"We too thought you could have some hot soup on a cold day like this," added the elderly wife from the Everything Store. She and her husband climbed up the stairs carrying a worn soup tureen. "We wanted to try the new soup packs that came in with today's inventory."
Hassan and Herakles watched dumbfounded as these people welcomed themselves in their home and began arranging their foodstuffs on the floor along with their convenience store dinner. The elderly wife poured out some soup into their coffee cups as her husband washed some fruits in the bathroom sink.
"Heeeh," the part-timer said, looking around. His head was a good foot away from the ceiling. "It's small but surprisingly neat and tidy. You two share this room?"
The brothers nodded.
"It reminds me of my aniki's apartment in Ikebukuro," he continued. "He pays for his own tuition so the place is really old and small. There's hardly anything in it except for his PC."
"Come and eat you two," said the elderly wife. "Stand up Herakles-san, we'll try and air out those futons."
Hassan helped Herakles to his feet as the elderly husband fluffed up their futons and hung them over their small cabinet of clothes and valuables. The part-timer scratched his head as the brothers dazedly sat down on the floor and began to drink the soup poured out for them.
"I should be off. I'll tell the manager you two are doing fine."
"Why are you doing all this?" Herakles asked quietly.
The elderly couple looked at him while the part-timer shrugged. "Why not? I mean, you guys always work hard. You don't even take a holiday. Your store's the first to open and the last to close. Your drinks are really good and cheap, though they could use a bit of variety. Everyone has them after work so it's comforting. You two are also great with the tourists…y'know, when they're lost. You don't hesitate to help. Ah…did I say too much?"
The elderly wife chuckled. "You know Akira-san, I remember the first time these two boys came here, they did all sorts of jobs to raise money for themselves and this store. They juggled six part-times each and went for weeks without sleeping. And they hardly spoke a word of Japanese!"
"Eh? Seriously?" the part-timer remarked, curious.
"Manami-san from Body Line used to say these two looked too good not to be given jobs. It was already unusual for foreigners to do so in the first place," she said.
"That's…" Herakles began.
"You boys have helped everyone on this street one way or another," the elderly wife continued pointedly. Her husband nodded encouragingly. "It wouldn't hurt to return the favor."
There came another knock from downstairs and the part-timer let in several more people. They were employees and shop owners along Dotombori. It was after hours and shifts were over. Almost all of them bore some sort of present, a get-well gift, food, fruits and even flowers and cards. Soon, the small room was filled with lively talk and people.
Hassan looked at Herakles with wide eyes. Herakles himself looked close to tears again. It was difficult to describe, this overwhelming feeling of joy and being touched rapidly filling his chest.
"We missed you today!" some employees called.
"That's right! Make sure you get better Herakles-san!"
"Aya-chan here misses seeing you."
"Yuki-chan be quiet!"
"We're…" Hassan began, biting his lip in the hopes of containing himself. "We're definitely opening the shop tomorrow!" He raised his fist in the air.
Herakles sniffed and laughed as cheers erupted all around them. Indeed their tiny home had never been so lively. The message was simple. There were people who cared for them here in Osaka. If that couldn't be called home enough, they didn't know what could.
END