50 je-prompts: #009. ring
rating/genre: PG
pairing(s): Matsumiya
words: 250
summary: Jun rings Nino.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: trying to get through prompts with more shorter length stuff.
when you call I feel like everything's all right (even when it's not)
A phone rings in the darkness. Its screen is illuminated brightly, casting a white glow upon the table and its surroundings; a drained cup of green tea, a plastic container with cold, half-eaten take away and an Xbox controller.
From next to the coffee table a bundle of thick blankets stir and a skinny arm pokes out, fingers splayed and fumbling for a phone-like object. Locating the source of the ringing, the arm captures and pulls it into the comforters. Nino squints at the bright screen for a second and picks up.
“Are you okay?” Jun’s voice is tinny and sounds distant, as if he’s talking through a thick wall. Nino thinks, about how he looked in the mirror and realised the shadows under his eyes are getting darker and darker. How his back is killing him, but he’s curled up around his coffee table’s legs in an act of rebellion against his own body. How he wishes someone (he won’t say Jun because naming names is too real, and he’s a dreamer) was there to get him off the floor.
“Yeah, all good.” Nino’s voice is croaky, and across the line in an apartment that is meticulous and in control there’s a long sigh.
“You are a compulsive liar.”
Nino replies, “It’s what I do best.” Jun laughs but through the phone it sounds like someone scrunching up newspaper. Nino tells him he sounds like cheap publications.
“I spread a different rumour about you every week. Now, are you really okay?”
“I am now.”
pairing(s): Matsumiya
words: 250
summary: Jun rings Nino.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: trying to get through prompts with more shorter length stuff.
when you call I feel like everything's all right (even when it's not)
A phone rings in the darkness. Its screen is illuminated brightly, casting a white glow upon the table and its surroundings; a drained cup of green tea, a plastic container with cold, half-eaten take away and an Xbox controller.
From next to the coffee table a bundle of thick blankets stir and a skinny arm pokes out, fingers splayed and fumbling for a phone-like object. Locating the source of the ringing, the arm captures and pulls it into the comforters. Nino squints at the bright screen for a second and picks up.
“Are you okay?” Jun’s voice is tinny and sounds distant, as if he’s talking through a thick wall. Nino thinks, about how he looked in the mirror and realised the shadows under his eyes are getting darker and darker. How his back is killing him, but he’s curled up around his coffee table’s legs in an act of rebellion against his own body. How he wishes someone (he won’t say Jun because naming names is too real, and he’s a dreamer) was there to get him off the floor.
“Yeah, all good.” Nino’s voice is croaky, and across the line in an apartment that is meticulous and in control there’s a long sigh.
“You are a compulsive liar.”
Nino replies, “It’s what I do best.” Jun laughs but through the phone it sounds like someone scrunching up newspaper. Nino tells him he sounds like cheap publications.
“I spread a different rumour about you every week. Now, are you really okay?”
“I am now.”