HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKKE! :DD
May. 19th, 2012 02:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eijentuI HOPE TODAY YOU ARE AS HAPPY AS A CORGI ON STILTS! <333
/hands
‘Are you all right, Fai?’
Fai turned, surprised. Ashura was still sitting in his chair near the fire, but he’d set his book aside for now; it was pressed flat across his knees, keeping his place. He was looking at Fai, waiting, and his face was warm and kind – like always – but there was that little crease between his brows, the one he often got when he worried about Fai. It was like Yuui’s crease, in that respect.
Fai didn’t want to think about that right now.
He moved away from where he’d been propped by the window. Staring at the street too long was probably what had prompted the question; anyway, there was nothing to see. Instead he went over to sit in the chair opposite Ashura – it mattered less now, he supposed, that there were only the two – and he pulled the rug from the back of it over his shoulders. He smiled. ‘Of course I’m all right,’ he said cheerfully, and then, drawing his knees towards his chest, ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
Ashura looked at him, quietly, contemplatively. Yuui had a look like that too, Fai thought. Perhaps he’d learned from Ashura, or perhaps the pair were just too alike. He couldn’t say.
Fai wasn’t like either of them.
Ashura said, ‘Well, I know it’s strange without Yuui here,’ and Fai kept quiet. Ashura went on, gently. ‘He’s hardly gone and I miss him. It’s all right, you know, if you’re sad as well.’
Fai pulled the rug closer about him. He said, ‘Yuui is going to have an amazing time.’ Brightly. Firmly. ‘Amazing! He always wanted to go back to Japan. So, I’m glad. It’s only for a while. It’s not like I can’t speak to him while he’s there, or email.’
Ashura nodded slowly. He said, ‘No, that’s certainly true,’ and there he paused a moment, picking his words, ‘but it’s all right to miss him. It doesn’t make you any less happy for him.’
Fai didn’t say anything. Kept his knees drawn close to his chest, wiggled his toes in his socks. Ashura always knew when he wasn’t happy about something. He always had. That was another thing he and Yuui had in common.
But after a moment, Fai heard the faint thud of the book hitting the chair. Ashura had stood up, dropped it behind him to be taken up again later. He produced an elastic from somewhere and carefully he began to draw his hair back from his face. He had long, elegant hands. Another thing like Yuui. Fai watched as Ashura’s hands worked the hair through the loop, once, twice, three times: dark and glossy and perfectly straight. It always fell into place with a sort of effortless ease.
Then Ashura turned back to Fai and smiled. Softly, kindly. Like always. It made Fai remember, suddenly, a night not long after they’d come to live with him, when Yuui had fallen asleep by Ashura’s knee, lulled by the crackle and warmth of the fire. Fai had looked across at them from his place on the couch, and the pair had looked so peaceful, so warm, that he’d crept closer somehow. Not to disturb them, not to ruin it, but just… just to look. Just to see how that might be.
Ashura had opened his eyes and held out a hand and smiled at Fai – not insistent, never that, but inviting him. Including him.
The night had ended with Fai curled against Ashura’s chest, not sleeping – because he couldn’t then - but just soaking in the warmth. Feeling the rise of Ashura’s chest, breathing the must of his jumper. And there were lots of nights that would follow like that – Ashura holding him close, gentle and warm – but that was the one Fai remembered best. Because it had been amazing, startling, that night: a revelation to pale all others. The discovery that life could be wonderful like that.
But that was then. Now Fai looked up at Ashura and smiled. Ashura smiled back. ‘I think,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘that you and I ought to have something to eat.’
Fai blinked. Stared at the man, and realised – he hadn’t put it together before – realised Ashura had his hair tied back and his sleeves rolled up, and Fai almost laughed at the absurdity, because this… Well. This was unexpected. Fai and Yuui took it in turns to make dinner – and Yuui took more turns than Fai, in truth – but Ashura… No. Fai couldn’t recall the last time Ashura had cooked. It had been ages. Some time when they were small, probably; before it became clear that the twins were, well, better. To put it bluntly. But then, they’d probably had more practice. The twins had been left to make their own meals, such as they could, before - and then after, once they had come to Ashura’s pretty little house in the capital, he had helped them learn new things, taken from books. He’d stood beside them in the kitchen, watchful as they worked. Took the chopping and slicing upon himself, handled pots on and off the stove. And Fai couldn’t remember precisely how it had come about that Ashura was relieved of his cooking duties – probably Yuui had found some diplomatic way to frame it – but that’s what had happened. To the considerable relief of all concerned.
But now Ashura was pulling on an apron – Fai’s apron, as it happened – and tying back the strings. Everything about him spoke of quiet determination, and Fai felt, abruptly, a rush of affection for him then. Gratitude and love and all the other warm things. Because Ashura wasn’t Yuui, and Yuui wasn’t there – he was gone, not forever, but for now, at least – and yet this, the home that they had, the one Ashura had made for them, this would never go. This was their home: warm and safe and theirs. Nobody could take it from them. It would be theirs for as long as they had people they cared for.
Fai followed Ashura into the kitchen. Kept the rug around his shoulders and sat at the scrubbed pine table, and watched the man who’d become his father pulling out eggs and flour. Yuui always made pancakes on grey days. Difficult days. He would smile as the scent of them drew Fai from his room, laughed when Fai draped over his shoulders to hurry him along. And Fai could make his own pancakes now if he cared to – could make them better than Ashura, if it came to that – but he saw the crease in Ashura’s brow, saw the concentration on his face as he worked. It was such a kind face, so familiar and warm, and it made Fai feel warm too. Made him safe. Always..
Fai thought then he might be all right after all.
/hands
‘Are you all right, Fai?’
Fai turned, surprised. Ashura was still sitting in his chair near the fire, but he’d set his book aside for now; it was pressed flat across his knees, keeping his place. He was looking at Fai, waiting, and his face was warm and kind – like always – but there was that little crease between his brows, the one he often got when he worried about Fai. It was like Yuui’s crease, in that respect.
Fai didn’t want to think about that right now.
He moved away from where he’d been propped by the window. Staring at the street too long was probably what had prompted the question; anyway, there was nothing to see. Instead he went over to sit in the chair opposite Ashura – it mattered less now, he supposed, that there were only the two – and he pulled the rug from the back of it over his shoulders. He smiled. ‘Of course I’m all right,’ he said cheerfully, and then, drawing his knees towards his chest, ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
Ashura looked at him, quietly, contemplatively. Yuui had a look like that too, Fai thought. Perhaps he’d learned from Ashura, or perhaps the pair were just too alike. He couldn’t say.
Fai wasn’t like either of them.
Ashura said, ‘Well, I know it’s strange without Yuui here,’ and Fai kept quiet. Ashura went on, gently. ‘He’s hardly gone and I miss him. It’s all right, you know, if you’re sad as well.’
Fai pulled the rug closer about him. He said, ‘Yuui is going to have an amazing time.’ Brightly. Firmly. ‘Amazing! He always wanted to go back to Japan. So, I’m glad. It’s only for a while. It’s not like I can’t speak to him while he’s there, or email.’
Ashura nodded slowly. He said, ‘No, that’s certainly true,’ and there he paused a moment, picking his words, ‘but it’s all right to miss him. It doesn’t make you any less happy for him.’
Fai didn’t say anything. Kept his knees drawn close to his chest, wiggled his toes in his socks. Ashura always knew when he wasn’t happy about something. He always had. That was another thing he and Yuui had in common.
But after a moment, Fai heard the faint thud of the book hitting the chair. Ashura had stood up, dropped it behind him to be taken up again later. He produced an elastic from somewhere and carefully he began to draw his hair back from his face. He had long, elegant hands. Another thing like Yuui. Fai watched as Ashura’s hands worked the hair through the loop, once, twice, three times: dark and glossy and perfectly straight. It always fell into place with a sort of effortless ease.
Then Ashura turned back to Fai and smiled. Softly, kindly. Like always. It made Fai remember, suddenly, a night not long after they’d come to live with him, when Yuui had fallen asleep by Ashura’s knee, lulled by the crackle and warmth of the fire. Fai had looked across at them from his place on the couch, and the pair had looked so peaceful, so warm, that he’d crept closer somehow. Not to disturb them, not to ruin it, but just… just to look. Just to see how that might be.
Ashura had opened his eyes and held out a hand and smiled at Fai – not insistent, never that, but inviting him. Including him.
The night had ended with Fai curled against Ashura’s chest, not sleeping – because he couldn’t then - but just soaking in the warmth. Feeling the rise of Ashura’s chest, breathing the must of his jumper. And there were lots of nights that would follow like that – Ashura holding him close, gentle and warm – but that was the one Fai remembered best. Because it had been amazing, startling, that night: a revelation to pale all others. The discovery that life could be wonderful like that.
But that was then. Now Fai looked up at Ashura and smiled. Ashura smiled back. ‘I think,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘that you and I ought to have something to eat.’
Fai blinked. Stared at the man, and realised – he hadn’t put it together before – realised Ashura had his hair tied back and his sleeves rolled up, and Fai almost laughed at the absurdity, because this… Well. This was unexpected. Fai and Yuui took it in turns to make dinner – and Yuui took more turns than Fai, in truth – but Ashura… No. Fai couldn’t recall the last time Ashura had cooked. It had been ages. Some time when they were small, probably; before it became clear that the twins were, well, better. To put it bluntly. But then, they’d probably had more practice. The twins had been left to make their own meals, such as they could, before - and then after, once they had come to Ashura’s pretty little house in the capital, he had helped them learn new things, taken from books. He’d stood beside them in the kitchen, watchful as they worked. Took the chopping and slicing upon himself, handled pots on and off the stove. And Fai couldn’t remember precisely how it had come about that Ashura was relieved of his cooking duties – probably Yuui had found some diplomatic way to frame it – but that’s what had happened. To the considerable relief of all concerned.
But now Ashura was pulling on an apron – Fai’s apron, as it happened – and tying back the strings. Everything about him spoke of quiet determination, and Fai felt, abruptly, a rush of affection for him then. Gratitude and love and all the other warm things. Because Ashura wasn’t Yuui, and Yuui wasn’t there – he was gone, not forever, but for now, at least – and yet this, the home that they had, the one Ashura had made for them, this would never go. This was their home: warm and safe and theirs. Nobody could take it from them. It would be theirs for as long as they had people they cared for.
Fai followed Ashura into the kitchen. Kept the rug around his shoulders and sat at the scrubbed pine table, and watched the man who’d become his father pulling out eggs and flour. Yuui always made pancakes on grey days. Difficult days. He would smile as the scent of them drew Fai from his room, laughed when Fai draped over his shoulders to hurry him along. And Fai could make his own pancakes now if he cared to – could make them better than Ashura, if it came to that – but he saw the crease in Ashura’s brow, saw the concentration on his face as he worked. It was such a kind face, so familiar and warm, and it made Fai feel warm too. Made him safe. Always..
Fai thought then he might be all right after all.
