呉島 貴虎 | kureshima takatora (
heavenlydecree) wrote2014-09-19 10:58 pm
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[If there was one thing Takatora was sure he should have learned by now, it would be how to keep his life in perfect running order. He had been the head of Yggdrasill's Research and Development branch from the moment he'd left high school and even before that, his father had kept him on a tight and strict schedule, never a second unaccounted for or left out of place. Unfortunately, with all of Takatora's scheduling and trying to squeeze an extra hour into every day, he still felt as though he never had time for anything, let alone everything. Even his weekends left little time for himself, though Takatora was also painfully aware of his obsession with triple-checking everything under his command and bringing such weight onto himself. He couldn't allow for errors.
His morning routine started a bit later on the weekends, if only because Takatora knew he had to catch up on sleep at some point to make up for running himself ragged. Getting sick was something he couldn't risk. The usual morning routine went by quickly: dragging himself out of bed (he'd never become a morning person, as much as he wanted to), showering, getting dressed, checking for any news or alerts while he had been sleeping. Thankfully, nothing important had happened during the night. Takatora always lived with the fear of something awful happening while he was asleep that he would be unprepared for, but every morning brought the same temporary relief. For now.
Takatora headed out of his room after an hour or so, still checking his phone as he made his way down the hall and towards the stairs. Ryouma already wanted to talk to him about something, which was mildly surprising as Ryouma rarely (never) got out of bed so early, which meant he'd been up all night again. Stepping past one of the maids, Takatora spoke a return greeting to her as he continued on, paying more attention to typing out messages than his surroundings.]
His morning routine started a bit later on the weekends, if only because Takatora knew he had to catch up on sleep at some point to make up for running himself ragged. Getting sick was something he couldn't risk. The usual morning routine went by quickly: dragging himself out of bed (he'd never become a morning person, as much as he wanted to), showering, getting dressed, checking for any news or alerts while he had been sleeping. Thankfully, nothing important had happened during the night. Takatora always lived with the fear of something awful happening while he was asleep that he would be unprepared for, but every morning brought the same temporary relief. For now.
Takatora headed out of his room after an hour or so, still checking his phone as he made his way down the hall and towards the stairs. Ryouma already wanted to talk to him about something, which was mildly surprising as Ryouma rarely (never) got out of bed so early, which meant he'd been up all night again. Stepping past one of the maids, Takatora spoke a return greeting to her as he continued on, paying more attention to typing out messages than his surroundings.]
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[Kouta's walking again now, still making sure to keep Micchy protectively close to him, taking a few more blocks before managing to reach the apartment complex from a completely different angle. If Micchy's been paying attention, he'll notice Kouta has developed the habit for carefully looking everywhere before he goes forward, as though expecting someone to attack him out of nowhere. Thankfully, he makes it all the way to the door of his apartment, letting go of Micchy's hand only to wrestle with his keys.]
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[Still, he can't help but feel like there's a pit in his stomach. If Ryouma is going to hold it over him, he'll do it later, and probably in a way to make it seem to Takatora like he's trying to hurt his brother. It's not true. He just needs a night to clear his head. But the man seems slimy and underhanded, and...]
[He feels his stomach do a flip as he thinks of being pinned against the wall with hot breath near his ear. No. He's not thinking about that, not ever again.]
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Go ahead and take these into my room. I'll be right there.
[He pauses, then motions to the door on the right at the end of the hallway. With that, Kouta goes halfway down the left side, lightly knocking on the door.]
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[... Yes, that makes sense. He rubs the side of his face again, and belatedly realizes why. He pulls his hand away and grabs the bags again. Where is he supposed to put these? ... He'll just hold them for now.]
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You can just put them down on the bed.
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Problems with your sister?
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[He gives a frustrated sigh and then sits down on the bed as well, pushing back to put his back against the wall.]
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[He carefully puts a hand on Kouta's leg. This is... okay. He can be okay with this.]
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I know...
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That's part of the reason I wanted to fight. You guys... you're the only friends I've had. The only ones who I felt like I could be myself around. I want to keep you guys safe.
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We want to keep you safe too, Micchy.
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I know. I just... don't want you guys to think that I'm holding you back any just because I'm younger.
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[Kouta shakes him a little.]
You're even cooler than me sometimes. You did so much to help me...
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[... Is a hug okay? He hugs Kouta gently. Hugs are okay. They're for showing appreciation and caring, right?]
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Are you feeling better?
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[Not anymore, at least. And he understands why - if something were to happen and Takatora was injured or killed... maybe that's why they grew more distant, among other things. Or maybe he's thinking too much again.]
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[That makes him a little sad, but he gives Micchy another squeeze to make up for it.]
About earlier, though... Are you ...?
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[Dammit Ryouma...]
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[Great, now he's super worried.]
... why don't you like him? Did he do something to you? ... did he hurt you?
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[Not really, at least. Creeped him out, but... well.]
He's just... manipulative. And sneaky. He's just not good news all around.
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... is he mean to your brother?
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[He pulls away a bit to rub at his face again. Why does it still feel sensitive? It shouldn't. It's just his mind reacting badly...]
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[The rubbing of Micchy's face gets his attention.]
... what's wrong?
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