Kids these days.... [Closed/Active]

[stfu_im_writing]

Characters: Yukimi, Machi
Setting: Cricket bedroom
Time: Late day 14
Summary: Yukimi and Machi have A Nice Talk about the phantasms' little leash thing.
Warnings: Language. Yukimi. Machi. =|

Comments

I wish I had an icon that covered this.

[machitobaye]

Yukimi's procrastination had not only woken Machi from an admittedly light sleep, but--despite his best (and admittedly quite effective) efforts to block the man out--had left him somewhat restless, and he sat pressed back into the desk, the music box in his hands but, for once, silent. Instead he ran his fingers of the lacquer and inlay, inhaling the dusty scent and listening to the slight shift of metal inside as he adjusted it in his grasp. He'd opened it and closed it several times, studying the coppery workings, but the shuffle of blankets and feet had caught him quickly--he looked up, tracking Yukimi across the room, and watched with no small amount of suspicion and surprise as the man poured and walked over... to present him with a cup

[stfu_im_writing]

Yukimi sat there and held it out in silence, waiting for him to take it. And waiting. And... waiting.

"Yes, Yukimi, thank you for making tea for me! I gratefully accept this gift! Isn't that the line? Jesus, your manners are hideous."

But he set the mug down on the desk and raised his own, chugging nearly half the tea at one go. One might think it was alcohol, for all his enthusiasm. But really, lemon tea was more of a liquid courage for him than booze ever would be; booze just made him say inappropriate things and get himself in trouble. He finished and took a deep breath, looking Machi in the eyes. Well, as near to them as he could find behind those glasses.

"Sooo, we've gotta talk."

[machitobaye]

Machi said nothing, screwing his face up a little in distaste as he stared at Yukimi; he felt very little regret for his refusal of the acidic-smelling drink, redolent with the smell of sharp and bitter bases. He sat through Yukimi's mockery and following insult with large indifference, although the disgust on his face shared his opinion of the situation quite well--it was only when Yukimi finished it all with an entirely different sentence that all of it made sense.

They had to talk.

For a moment, Machi almost narrowed his eyes--if this is what he thought it was, if it was even remotely related to what he thought it was, then it was more than a necessity, more than a conversation. He was silent for another moment, staring at Yukimi in equananimous recall.

"...okay."

[stfu_im_writing]

The disdain coming across the line did nothing to bolster Yukimi's confidence, but he wasn't expecting much. And honestly, 'okay' was a better response than he'd been hoping for. He could count on one hand the number of words Machi had spoken to him since the incident. He was probably mad, and it was probably justified, and Yukimi was lucky to get his attention at all, considering so he'd best make use of it no matter how much he was dreading this

[machitobaye]

Machi stared at him, simultaneously indifferent and confused--largely by Yukimi's inability to speak coherently... did he really not know? The flat look was replaced by something a little more derogatory, if not entirely unforgiving--at most, Machi was transmitting something a little akin to disappointment and annoyance. He looked away, all but clearing his throat in preparation to speak.

"It goes both ways," he stated, his voice flat and unemotive. "You don't know." It was not much in the way of sentences, but it was all he had to say--there was too much Yukimi didn't know, too much Machi couldn't explain, especially not at once; about the collars and silver lines before, about how hard Machi had been working to shut Yukimi out and keep himself in, for what little it gained him, about Anna, about the memories associated with the silver and the noose, the implications...

He didn't have anything else to say.