Pianissimo: 02 (La Corda d'Oro, Ryoutarou/Len)
Ryoutarou doesn’t care, really. Well, not much. He just doesn’t get why Len uses it. The guy has his own. It’s in this fancy bottle with a fancy label and a fancy name that Ryoutarou can’t pronounce and a fancy smell Ryoutarou can’t place.
“Sandalwood,” he thinks Len may have said when asked. “Why do you want to know?”
He doesn’t know how to answer, although Len certainly has no reason to get defensive. He thinks of asking Len why he uses his cheap, unfortunately fruity smelling shampoo, but he doesn’t want to make it seem like it’s a big deal.
Because it isn’t, really, a big deal. Since it’s inexpensive, Ryoutarou buys shampoo often, so he isn’t in any danger of unexpectedly running out of it. Though they did go through a bottle quickly-Len, of course, being prissy and thus, washing his hair every day.
Most of the time, though, Ryoutarou doesn’t even think about it. Only when Len sits a bit too close when sharing the couch or leans in a bit too close when reaching across the table; and Ryoutarou smells apple blossoms and his head goes a little dizzy with familiarity and something else rather fuzzy and lovely.
And, well, that may be a big deal, but he doesn’t want to think about that, really.
[~]
Ryoutarou has a rubber ducky.
Len doesn’t understand. He’s never seen one up close. Up until puberty, he had a nanny that washed him and the closest he came to having a normal bathing experience was when she took a night off and his mother filled the tub with scented bubbles.
“That’s kinda sad,” Ryoutarou may have said when Len absently brought it up, but Len doesn’t care about his opinion. Not in the slightest. He never has and he certainly never will, now that he knows he owns a rubber ducky.
It’s a green rubber ducky, a couple shades lighter than Ryoutarou’s hair. It has perversely large red lips decorating its bill and a tiny pink bikini top painted on it, but no bikini bottom. Len questions this considerably.
It squeaks. A high and annoying squeak that Ryoutarou knows Len can’t stand and thus, he delights in driving him crazy with it. He so kindly announces when he’s going to take a bath with a very loud, very pronounced squeak as close to Len’s ear as he can possibly get and a peck on the cheek from those obscene lips.
And Len desperately wishes he didn’t like it as much as he does.
[~]
Len has a surprisingly lax sense of modesty.
When he finishes showering, he comes out into the hallway-the steam, he says, makes his hair much too limp-with a towel around his waist. Ryoutarou tries not to notice the pale, perfect skin on display, tries not to follow the path the droplets of water make down his chest and legs.
This a surprisingly easy thing to do, because after Len steps out of the bathroom, he begins to pat himself dry with tiny towels, the kind normal people use for their hands. If Ryoutarou notices anything, he notices this. He pats. Like he’s so fucking fragile.
Which he might be.
Ryoutarou hasn’t been able to properly PWN him yet, so he can’t be sure.
Though he thinks Len might deserve to get punched in the face just for patting himself dry with tiny towels.
[~]
Ryoutarou sings in the shower.
Len wouldn’t consider this a problem if Ryoutarou could sing well. And if he could sing something other than “Old McDonald Had a Farm.”
There he’ll be, minding his own business, perhaps preparing to drink a nice, hot cup of tea, and all of a sudden, he’ll hear a loud and off-key, “QUACK QUACK HERE” and a “QUACK QUACK THERE” and everywhere there will be a tea.
It’s very upsetting.
He considers confronting Ryoutarou about it, perhaps asking him to stop or at least tone it down. But he changes his mind. He has a lovely tape recorder and it will make wonderful blackmail if he needs it in the future. All he’ll have to do is mention how much Kahoko would love to hear his singing and Ryoutarou will cater to his whim. The thought almost makes it worthwhile.
Almost.
“Sandalwood,” he thinks Len may have said when asked. “Why do you want to know?”
He doesn’t know how to answer, although Len certainly has no reason to get defensive. He thinks of asking Len why he uses his cheap, unfortunately fruity smelling shampoo, but he doesn’t want to make it seem like it’s a big deal.
Because it isn’t, really, a big deal. Since it’s inexpensive, Ryoutarou buys shampoo often, so he isn’t in any danger of unexpectedly running out of it. Though they did go through a bottle quickly-Len, of course, being prissy and thus, washing his hair every day.
Most of the time, though, Ryoutarou doesn’t even think about it. Only when Len sits a bit too close when sharing the couch or leans in a bit too close when reaching across the table; and Ryoutarou smells apple blossoms and his head goes a little dizzy with familiarity and something else rather fuzzy and lovely.
And, well, that may be a big deal, but he doesn’t want to think about that, really.
[~]
Ryoutarou has a rubber ducky.
Len doesn’t understand. He’s never seen one up close. Up until puberty, he had a nanny that washed him and the closest he came to having a normal bathing experience was when she took a night off and his mother filled the tub with scented bubbles.
“That’s kinda sad,” Ryoutarou may have said when Len absently brought it up, but Len doesn’t care about his opinion. Not in the slightest. He never has and he certainly never will, now that he knows he owns a rubber ducky.
It’s a green rubber ducky, a couple shades lighter than Ryoutarou’s hair. It has perversely large red lips decorating its bill and a tiny pink bikini top painted on it, but no bikini bottom. Len questions this considerably.
It squeaks. A high and annoying squeak that Ryoutarou knows Len can’t stand and thus, he delights in driving him crazy with it. He so kindly announces when he’s going to take a bath with a very loud, very pronounced squeak as close to Len’s ear as he can possibly get and a peck on the cheek from those obscene lips.
And Len desperately wishes he didn’t like it as much as he does.
[~]
Len has a surprisingly lax sense of modesty.
When he finishes showering, he comes out into the hallway-the steam, he says, makes his hair much too limp-with a towel around his waist. Ryoutarou tries not to notice the pale, perfect skin on display, tries not to follow the path the droplets of water make down his chest and legs.
This a surprisingly easy thing to do, because after Len steps out of the bathroom, he begins to pat himself dry with tiny towels, the kind normal people use for their hands. If Ryoutarou notices anything, he notices this. He pats. Like he’s so fucking fragile.
Which he might be.
Ryoutarou hasn’t been able to properly PWN him yet, so he can’t be sure.
Though he thinks Len might deserve to get punched in the face just for patting himself dry with tiny towels.
[~]
Ryoutarou sings in the shower.
Len wouldn’t consider this a problem if Ryoutarou could sing well. And if he could sing something other than “Old McDonald Had a Farm.”
There he’ll be, minding his own business, perhaps preparing to drink a nice, hot cup of tea, and all of a sudden, he’ll hear a loud and off-key, “QUACK QUACK HERE” and a “QUACK QUACK THERE” and everywhere there will be a tea.
It’s very upsetting.
He considers confronting Ryoutarou about it, perhaps asking him to stop or at least tone it down. But he changes his mind. He has a lovely tape recorder and it will make wonderful blackmail if he needs it in the future. All he’ll have to do is mention how much Kahoko would love to hear his singing and Ryoutarou will cater to his whim. The thought almost makes it worthwhile.
Almost.