(news) two am; ryotego
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Idek.
Notes: Drabble-y, around 730 words. For xtilly I suppose. Because I hate her with all my heart. And she's a nagger.
It’s 2AM when the phone rings and Ryo picks up; recognizes Tegoshi’s voice, but he doesn’t hear, doesn’t want to hear, can’t hear.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he’s taken into account the slurring of the words, the roughness of the voice through the earpiece, and he doesn’t know where he’s going but still he does and he finds the boy slumped against the wall of the apartment building, jacket slipping off his shoulder, hands resting in his lap, eyes fixed on the ground.
“He wouldn’t answer,” Ryo hears but Tegoshi’s mumbling and he wonders if he missed something.
“Again?” The elder of the two questions, suggesting something to do with being sober and it being the more reasonable of the two options: sober and drunk of course.
Tegoshi shrugs and reaches his arms out grasping the air helplessly, and Ryo doesn’t want to help but he finds himself doing so anyway and the younger boy’s form is suddenly limp against his chest and he can’t find the heart to push him away.
The words that Tegoshi utters next are muffled greatly by the presence of Ryo’s body, but the word “home” is all that’s needed, and Ryo complies, somewhere along the way managing to hoist the boy onto his back.
Tegoshi tightens his grip around Ryo, nuzzles his neck, repeats the same words over and over and Ryo’s so sick of being called “Yamashita-kun” that he finally dumps the boy on a nearby bench, walks off in a huff, and wonders when Tegoshi had the chance to catch up to him.
He’s tired and doesn’t much care anymore for helping out the boy clinging to his arm, letting himself be dragged along, and he just wants to be home but Tegoshi’s presence makes it difficult, makes everything difficult.
“Ne…” Tegoshi breathes as they walk, bumping Ryo’s arm oh so casually, and waits for a response from the other, notices Ryo’s walking is increasing in speed ever so slightly with each step.
Ryo pointedly ignores the boy, keeps his head forward and doesn’t speak another word despite Tegoshi’s consistent nagging, until he reaches the other’s house. He doesn’t mean to follow Tegoshi inside, doesn’t really want to follow him in, but Tegoshi’s vice-like grip holds tight, and before he knows it he’s sitting at the table knocking back a cup of too-sweet coffee and he doesn’t even know how Tegoshi made it in his current state.
“Tomorrow…” Tegoshi trails off, setting himself down in the chair nearest to Ryo and fiddling with the folds in the denim of his jeans.
Ryo cocks an eyebrow, doesn’t speak, just waits and listens, urging the boy mentally to continue.
“Will I remember?”
Remember what? Ryo wants to ask, wants to force the boy into speaking more, doesn’t know when he’d become so accustomed to that voice. But he knows what Tegoshi means, he understands enough to not question.
“Maybe not,” he answers with a shrug of the shoulders, a sip of his coffee, so Tegoshi crawls into Ryo’s lap, wraps a hand around his neck and presses their lips together.
Ryo’s really too tired to be bothered anymore, wonders on the side if he’d care even if he weren’t, and lets the other do as he pleases, inwardly reveling in the feeling of being needed, even if it’s not directed at him.
Ryo’s hand finds its way under Tegoshi’s shirt, ghosts over the smooth skin there only for an instant, before Tegoshi pulls away and squeals something that very much resembles, “Shige!” and Ryo becomes well and truly lost.
“What about him?” Ryo snaps, frowns at the younger boy in his lap.
Tegoshi mumbles something incoherently as his worried-look disappears. He wraps his arms around Ryo’s waist, snuggles in close, and Ryo can’t help but feel some kind of need for this to last, until Tegoshi calls him “Yamashita-kun” again and he promptly picks the boy up, marches into his bedroom and dumps him on the mattress.
He ignores the hurt look splashed across Tegoshi’s face, makes his way back out to the lounge area and slumps down on the couch and tries to forget; he wants to forget.
But the taste of the too-sweet coffee lingers on his lips and he still feels, can’t help but remember, (though he’s not so sure it’s such a bad thing anyway).
Genre: Idek.
Notes: Drabble-y, around 730 words. For xtilly I suppose. Because I hate her with all my heart. And she's a nagger.
It’s 2AM when the phone rings and Ryo picks up; recognizes Tegoshi’s voice, but he doesn’t hear, doesn’t want to hear, can’t hear.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he’s taken into account the slurring of the words, the roughness of the voice through the earpiece, and he doesn’t know where he’s going but still he does and he finds the boy slumped against the wall of the apartment building, jacket slipping off his shoulder, hands resting in his lap, eyes fixed on the ground.
“He wouldn’t answer,” Ryo hears but Tegoshi’s mumbling and he wonders if he missed something.
“Again?” The elder of the two questions, suggesting something to do with being sober and it being the more reasonable of the two options: sober and drunk of course.
Tegoshi shrugs and reaches his arms out grasping the air helplessly, and Ryo doesn’t want to help but he finds himself doing so anyway and the younger boy’s form is suddenly limp against his chest and he can’t find the heart to push him away.
The words that Tegoshi utters next are muffled greatly by the presence of Ryo’s body, but the word “home” is all that’s needed, and Ryo complies, somewhere along the way managing to hoist the boy onto his back.
Tegoshi tightens his grip around Ryo, nuzzles his neck, repeats the same words over and over and Ryo’s so sick of being called “Yamashita-kun” that he finally dumps the boy on a nearby bench, walks off in a huff, and wonders when Tegoshi had the chance to catch up to him.
He’s tired and doesn’t much care anymore for helping out the boy clinging to his arm, letting himself be dragged along, and he just wants to be home but Tegoshi’s presence makes it difficult, makes everything difficult.
“Ne…” Tegoshi breathes as they walk, bumping Ryo’s arm oh so casually, and waits for a response from the other, notices Ryo’s walking is increasing in speed ever so slightly with each step.
Ryo pointedly ignores the boy, keeps his head forward and doesn’t speak another word despite Tegoshi’s consistent nagging, until he reaches the other’s house. He doesn’t mean to follow Tegoshi inside, doesn’t really want to follow him in, but Tegoshi’s vice-like grip holds tight, and before he knows it he’s sitting at the table knocking back a cup of too-sweet coffee and he doesn’t even know how Tegoshi made it in his current state.
“Tomorrow…” Tegoshi trails off, setting himself down in the chair nearest to Ryo and fiddling with the folds in the denim of his jeans.
Ryo cocks an eyebrow, doesn’t speak, just waits and listens, urging the boy mentally to continue.
“Will I remember?”
Remember what? Ryo wants to ask, wants to force the boy into speaking more, doesn’t know when he’d become so accustomed to that voice. But he knows what Tegoshi means, he understands enough to not question.
“Maybe not,” he answers with a shrug of the shoulders, a sip of his coffee, so Tegoshi crawls into Ryo’s lap, wraps a hand around his neck and presses their lips together.
Ryo’s really too tired to be bothered anymore, wonders on the side if he’d care even if he weren’t, and lets the other do as he pleases, inwardly reveling in the feeling of being needed, even if it’s not directed at him.
Ryo’s hand finds its way under Tegoshi’s shirt, ghosts over the smooth skin there only for an instant, before Tegoshi pulls away and squeals something that very much resembles, “Shige!” and Ryo becomes well and truly lost.
“What about him?” Ryo snaps, frowns at the younger boy in his lap.
Tegoshi mumbles something incoherently as his worried-look disappears. He wraps his arms around Ryo’s waist, snuggles in close, and Ryo can’t help but feel some kind of need for this to last, until Tegoshi calls him “Yamashita-kun” again and he promptly picks the boy up, marches into his bedroom and dumps him on the mattress.
He ignores the hurt look splashed across Tegoshi’s face, makes his way back out to the lounge area and slumps down on the couch and tries to forget; he wants to forget.
But the taste of the too-sweet coffee lingers on his lips and he still feels, can’t help but remember, (though he’s not so sure it’s such a bad thing anyway).