Yet another HayaRyu
Title: Altum silentium
Pairing: HayaRyu again
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Sad but true.
Rating: G
A/N: betaed by the lovely amairo_parasol, and written for fionnakreuz for her b'day ♥ I'm sorry you get angst for your b'day, but since you asked for Yuuki/Natsu first I think you won't mind? Yuuki/Natsu is like, begging for heartbreaking angst. Anyway, enjoy it, this is yours ♥
You sometimes see him in the street, crossing your own path as each of you head to your respective jobs. You notice him; maybe he does too, or maybe he does not. On most days your glances cross, lock together for a second, a fraction of a second, a span of time too tiny that it almost is not there and makes you wonder if you are seeing things, if he really looked at you or it was just the chance to look around and catch any other stranger’s eyes.
He is there at night too, walking toward the train station as you walk out of the hospital with your father on his wheelchair. Sometimes you ride the same train, the same car, but you spend the ride chatting with your old man and he does not turn to you even once. Maybe he does not know. Sometimes, you do not realize he has been in the train with you until you step down on the platform and see him walking away.
When it is already late and your have already put your father to bed and Taku is studying in his bedroom, you plop down on your bed and scroll down the numbers in your mobile phone until you find his. It reads Ryu-chan, along with a picture of him in his high school uniform, reddish hair shining under the sun. Ryu-chan. It does not quite fit his current image - hair shorter and darker, black elegant suit, briefcase in hand. Ryu-chan. Ryu-kun. Odagiri. Odagiri-san. Odagiri-san does not fit his image of Ryu - Ryu who changed his uniform’s second button for one with a dragon, who left his house and defied his father and fought by your side. But maybe it is your image of Ryu that is wrong. You think about deleting the picture, but at the end you do not dare. You delete his name, and then realize you do not know what to write in its place. Ryu. Odagiri-kun. Odagiri. Odagiri-san. Odagiri Ryu. At the end you write a question mark.
You wonder under what name Ryu has your number in his phone, if he even has it anymore. Hayato-sama only lasted for a few weeks during high school, until he realized it and changed it, giving you the cold shoulder for a whole day after that. Hayato, or Haya-chan when Tsucchi got a hold of the redhead’s phone. But now Ryu is a serious businessman, following a schedule, having important meetings and learning new names every day. Yabuki-san. Yabuki Hayato.
What image does Ryu have of you? With the kind of people he meets now, what does he think of old plain you? Maybe he does not recognize you when he passes you on the street, and he still thinks you are a useless brat, fighting for something that is no longer part of his world. Or maybe he does, and then, what does he imagine? What job does he think you have, what kind of friends, what kind of life? What does he think of your father, with his wheelchair? Does he remember Taku? Does he even think of you?
Before you can really think about what you are doing, you press the call button. You hang up after a few seconds though, not even giving him a chance to pick up. You do not even know if he still has his old number after so many years. But then your phone buzzes and you stare at the screen, the ? you wrote a few moments ago blinking on it. He hangs up too, but it is some kind of habit you used to have when you were younger, calling each other only to hang up after a few rings.
For a moment you look at the missed call, entertaining the thought that he has kept his number thorough all these years just for you, for you to call back someday, and talk to him and bring back what you used to have. It is a comfortable thought, one that makes you happy and fills you with warmth, to believe that he still treasures you. You send a text; short, dry.
Sometimes, I wish you had gone to Canada..
The reply takes a few second, but it just like him; concise, straight to the point.
Me too.
Pairing: HayaRyu again
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Sad but true.
Rating: G
A/N: betaed by the lovely amairo_parasol, and written for fionnakreuz for her b'day ♥ I'm sorry you get angst for your b'day, but since you asked for Yuuki/Natsu first I think you won't mind? Yuuki/Natsu is like, begging for heartbreaking angst. Anyway, enjoy it, this is yours ♥
You sometimes see him in the street, crossing your own path as each of you head to your respective jobs. You notice him; maybe he does too, or maybe he does not. On most days your glances cross, lock together for a second, a fraction of a second, a span of time too tiny that it almost is not there and makes you wonder if you are seeing things, if he really looked at you or it was just the chance to look around and catch any other stranger’s eyes.
He is there at night too, walking toward the train station as you walk out of the hospital with your father on his wheelchair. Sometimes you ride the same train, the same car, but you spend the ride chatting with your old man and he does not turn to you even once. Maybe he does not know. Sometimes, you do not realize he has been in the train with you until you step down on the platform and see him walking away.
When it is already late and your have already put your father to bed and Taku is studying in his bedroom, you plop down on your bed and scroll down the numbers in your mobile phone until you find his. It reads Ryu-chan, along with a picture of him in his high school uniform, reddish hair shining under the sun. Ryu-chan. It does not quite fit his current image - hair shorter and darker, black elegant suit, briefcase in hand. Ryu-chan. Ryu-kun. Odagiri. Odagiri-san. Odagiri-san does not fit his image of Ryu - Ryu who changed his uniform’s second button for one with a dragon, who left his house and defied his father and fought by your side. But maybe it is your image of Ryu that is wrong. You think about deleting the picture, but at the end you do not dare. You delete his name, and then realize you do not know what to write in its place. Ryu. Odagiri-kun. Odagiri. Odagiri-san. Odagiri Ryu. At the end you write a question mark.
You wonder under what name Ryu has your number in his phone, if he even has it anymore. Hayato-sama only lasted for a few weeks during high school, until he realized it and changed it, giving you the cold shoulder for a whole day after that. Hayato, or Haya-chan when Tsucchi got a hold of the redhead’s phone. But now Ryu is a serious businessman, following a schedule, having important meetings and learning new names every day. Yabuki-san. Yabuki Hayato.
What image does Ryu have of you? With the kind of people he meets now, what does he think of old plain you? Maybe he does not recognize you when he passes you on the street, and he still thinks you are a useless brat, fighting for something that is no longer part of his world. Or maybe he does, and then, what does he imagine? What job does he think you have, what kind of friends, what kind of life? What does he think of your father, with his wheelchair? Does he remember Taku? Does he even think of you?
Before you can really think about what you are doing, you press the call button. You hang up after a few seconds though, not even giving him a chance to pick up. You do not even know if he still has his old number after so many years. But then your phone buzzes and you stare at the screen, the ? you wrote a few moments ago blinking on it. He hangs up too, but it is some kind of habit you used to have when you were younger, calling each other only to hang up after a few rings.
For a moment you look at the missed call, entertaining the thought that he has kept his number thorough all these years just for you, for you to call back someday, and talk to him and bring back what you used to have. It is a comfortable thought, one that makes you happy and fills you with warmth, to believe that he still treasures you. You send a text; short, dry.
Sometimes, I wish you had gone to Canada..
The reply takes a few second, but it just like him; concise, straight to the point.
Me too.