Gravitation/General/CUSTOM + Simple things
“Something good?” Eiri’s lit cigarette was offensive to Mika. She hadn’t smoked in seven months. She wasn’t going through all that hell just to have her baby get lung cancer from her brother’s secondhand smoke. “There is nothing good about children.”
Mika glanced at the kid sitting across the table from her; Riku paused from stuffing waffles into his mouth to stare at Eiri. Eiri stared unwaveringly back. Riku said nothing and returned to his breakfast.
“There has to be something,” she insisted, blowing gently on her too-hot coffee. She was practicing how to do things gently. “Little glances, silly conversations…”
“Conversations?” Eiri scoffed, gesturing toward Riku with his cigarette. “Have you met this kid?”
Riku stared at him, mouth full, cheeks puffed. Eiri stared unwaveringly back. Mika rolled her eyes and looked down at her stomach, bulging beneath her maternity dress.
“Tatsuha was a quiet child, too,” she said, smiling a bit at the memory. “But he was sweet. Until-”
“-I corrupted him,” Eiri finished for her, sounding proud.
“Yes.” She tried to suppress the chuckle that was trying to escape her, because she really shouldn’t be encouraging that kind of behavior. “I think you got some kind of sick pleasure out of showing him those dirty magazines you found in Father’s closet.”
“Now there’s a thought.” Eiri smirked and glanced briefly at the young boy beside him.
“Don’t you dare!” Mika attempted to kick him under the table, but either the table was too big or her leg was too short. She lowered her voice, although Riku was too busy indulging in waffle-devouring to listen to her; and he only seemed to listen to Eiri, anyway. “Your brother is one thing, but you’re practically that kid’s-”
“Don’t say it.”
“Well, you are.” Mika frowned. “I don’t know why it upsets you.”
“Yes, you do,” he muttered, placing his cigarette back between his lips, which was good, because he’d started to look a little like he was pouting, and that was disturbing. “You want to know something good about children? Being able to return them to their parents when the day is over.”
“Oh, Eiri,” she sighed, closing her eyes in resignation. Raising her cup of coffee to her lips, she realized that coming to her brother for reassurance probably wasn’t one of her best ideas. She probably should’ve gone to Noriko instead. She would’ve been more understanding-understanding of the doubts Mika was feeling, the fears she had never considered, the nightmares that were waking her in the middle of the night.
“You’ll be all right, though.”
Opening her eyes, she looked at him, eyebrow arched. Eiri shrugged, smoking steadily, his expression unreadable.
“You’ve wanted one for a long time, haven’t you?”
Her lips parted slightly in surprise. He was right; she’d wanted a child for years. But she’d never voiced her desire to anyone, not even Tohma. How had he known?
Perhaps he was a bit more understanding than she thought.
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “I have.” She looked down at her stomach again and ran her hand over it, gently.
“Crazy lady,” Eiri muttered. “Kids are hell.”
Riku, who had moved onto what he called “the best part” of his waffle breakfast (the whipped cream and strawberries), stared at Eiri, cream sticking to his upper lip like a mustache. Eiri stared unwaveringly back. Riku said nothing, speared a strawberry with his fork, and silently offered it to Eiri. Eiri silently took it and put out his cigarette; Riku nodded firmly, like he’d just solved world peace, and returned to his breakfast.
Mika glanced at the kid sitting across the table from her; Riku paused from stuffing waffles into his mouth to stare at Eiri. Eiri stared unwaveringly back. Riku said nothing and returned to his breakfast.
“There has to be something,” she insisted, blowing gently on her too-hot coffee. She was practicing how to do things gently. “Little glances, silly conversations…”
“Conversations?” Eiri scoffed, gesturing toward Riku with his cigarette. “Have you met this kid?”
Riku stared at him, mouth full, cheeks puffed. Eiri stared unwaveringly back. Mika rolled her eyes and looked down at her stomach, bulging beneath her maternity dress.
“Tatsuha was a quiet child, too,” she said, smiling a bit at the memory. “But he was sweet. Until-”
“-I corrupted him,” Eiri finished for her, sounding proud.
“Yes.” She tried to suppress the chuckle that was trying to escape her, because she really shouldn’t be encouraging that kind of behavior. “I think you got some kind of sick pleasure out of showing him those dirty magazines you found in Father’s closet.”
“Now there’s a thought.” Eiri smirked and glanced briefly at the young boy beside him.
“Don’t you dare!” Mika attempted to kick him under the table, but either the table was too big or her leg was too short. She lowered her voice, although Riku was too busy indulging in waffle-devouring to listen to her; and he only seemed to listen to Eiri, anyway. “Your brother is one thing, but you’re practically that kid’s-”
“Don’t say it.”
“Well, you are.” Mika frowned. “I don’t know why it upsets you.”
“Yes, you do,” he muttered, placing his cigarette back between his lips, which was good, because he’d started to look a little like he was pouting, and that was disturbing. “You want to know something good about children? Being able to return them to their parents when the day is over.”
“Oh, Eiri,” she sighed, closing her eyes in resignation. Raising her cup of coffee to her lips, she realized that coming to her brother for reassurance probably wasn’t one of her best ideas. She probably should’ve gone to Noriko instead. She would’ve been more understanding-understanding of the doubts Mika was feeling, the fears she had never considered, the nightmares that were waking her in the middle of the night.
“You’ll be all right, though.”
Opening her eyes, she looked at him, eyebrow arched. Eiri shrugged, smoking steadily, his expression unreadable.
“You’ve wanted one for a long time, haven’t you?”
Her lips parted slightly in surprise. He was right; she’d wanted a child for years. But she’d never voiced her desire to anyone, not even Tohma. How had he known?
Perhaps he was a bit more understanding than she thought.
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “I have.” She looked down at her stomach again and ran her hand over it, gently.
“Crazy lady,” Eiri muttered. “Kids are hell.”
Riku, who had moved onto what he called “the best part” of his waffle breakfast (the whipped cream and strawberries), stared at Eiri, cream sticking to his upper lip like a mustache. Eiri stared unwaveringly back. Riku said nothing, speared a strawberry with his fork, and silently offered it to Eiri. Eiri silently took it and put out his cigarette; Riku nodded firmly, like he’d just solved world peace, and returned to his breakfast.