Dedicated to the one and only ProfHex.
Happy Birthday, fam.
~Praise The Sun~
.x.X.x.
There's something to be said for the inner workings of nature.
There are some things about it you can't explain. Things like time being eternal, the deliciousness of a banana, the mind itself. These are things we've come to expect that we will never truly understand.
But there is something Len just can't understand no matter how hard he tries, and that is-
-oranges.
The shiny, bright skin that shares its name in color, the tiny dimples all over it, the tangy scent. His mirror image's pure obsession with the fruit and eating at least one every day.
He can't imagine the appeal- and that's coming from someone who eats a curved, slender yellow fruit that screams 'appealing'.
(Yeah, that was a really bad pun. He has all the rights to make them, since he practically endorses bananas. Give him a break.)
Now, he's saddled with the biggest predicament of his life. Sitting at the dining room table, an orange placed before him as if mocking him. No one else is home, and he's rather… undecided.
There are no bananas left in the house, to his sorrow. He'd eaten the last of them just the previous night, and when he woke this morning, no one had bothered to go shopping for more. Hungry, searching the fridge, he'd found… this.
Rin isn't home, so she can't get angry if she doesn't know he ate it. But, never having had an orange before, he doesn't even know if it's good. If he eats part of it and not the rest, his lookalike might throw an absolute fit. Fear is half the reason he keeps hesitating, despite his growling stomach.
No one knows what Rin's like when someone touches her oranges, kept in her own designated drawer of the fridge. There was one instance where Kaito had wanted one to put in his orange sherbet, half opened it, and she'd snapped ferociously. Needless to say, the bluenet hadn't really dared to ask again, instead buying his own and hiding them in the comfort of his room.
But, Len digresses.
Inhaling sharply, he reaches out to feel the fruit, grimacing a little at the texture. It's so cold it feels wet, but at least it's smooth to the touch.
His stomach yells in protest to his taking so much time to decide, and he finally just goes 'screw it' and brings it closer to him. If he's careful about this, Rin will never know, and he can always give her a box of new ones later. Win-win situation, right?
Maybe… not.
He stares at it a moment, his utter confusion open on his features. He twists the orange in his hand, spinning it around- not finding what he's looking for.
How does he open it?
He feels a bit ashamed of himself for never observing the other blonde when she would eat her favorite food. Well, it's not like he hasn't observed her, but usually he's not looking at the orange itself, but rather-
Ah, nevermind, that's so not important. The more pressing issue at hand rather than his, uh, kinda creepy tendencies is that he's hungry, Rin can come home at any point in time, and he's sure he's not safe from death just for being her other half.
But… how does it open?
He runs his fingertips over its surface, desperately trying to find the spot that tells him where to start peeling off the skin. Damn it all, how is he that dumb to not know how to peel an orange? Even as much as he wracks his brain, he can't really remember how the girl manages it.
This is going to be a learning experience, indeed.
At least with bananas, the directions are pretty clean cut, Len grumbles to himself. You just pull the top backwards and it usually rips open the first time with a satisfying separating noise. Then it's just a matter of pulling down the sides and munching away.
This thing, however, doesn't seem as simple.
He scrapes his fingernail along the surface, wondering if it can catch something- and as he does, the strongest scent of citrus ever rolls up to his nose. Pungent, cloying, but not awful, maybe.
The taste, however, has yet to be determined.
He reaches up to the top (?) of the orange, to the little stem that he easily picks off- and is faced with a tiny hole in it, making him even more confused.
...Weird.
For the next few moments, he uses his very short fingernails to scrape at the sides of the orange, desperate to find purchase and rip a clean piece of it off, which would give him the access he needs to clean it completely.
He drops it on the table finally, his fingertips strongly coated in citrusy fragrance, glaring at it.
He doesn't remember it being this hard. He doesn't know why he's having such a bad time with it.
Is there some other way he doesn't know about? He's pretty sure Rin uses her fingers, but she's so talented at it by now that it must be as easy as tearing off a bandaid. Is there an alternative option?
Len rises, walking to the kitchen and starting to raid the drawers, coming back to the table with an array of things he might be able to use on the orange. At this point he just wants the stupid thing open so he can eat, but it seems he'll have to fight to earn its permission.
It's scary how similar a freaking orange is to his dear counterpart.
He lays down his newly acquired weapons- a potato peeler, a steak knife, a flathead screwdriver, and a pizza cutter.
Not exactly the most ideal tools, but they'll have to do.
First, he attempts the potato peeler. Pressing the sharp object to the skin, he forces it to shear off a layer of the glossy orange outside. However, it only goes so deep in, and he's left with a white inner skin still staring back at him.
The peeler = no good.
Next, the screwdriver.
He pries at the places he'd used the peeler on, trying to dig deep enough that he can pull up a section of the hull and make headway. However, it only serves to damage the fruit, leaving it pockmarked and ugly to behold.
Another item crossed off the list- along with another hope dashed.
By now, about twenty minutes have gone by. The table is dressed in a lot of orange shavings and the orange is worse for the wear, and he's really starting to wonder if he might as well bite through the orange and just eat it, skin and all.
Anything to end his torment, really.
Finally losing his cool, he makes for the steak knife- to brutally stab the fruit to death? To attempt to peel it with the serrated edge? Both seem plausible at this point- and aims the blade at the orange, wielding it like a grand sword to slay his enemy.
However, he'd accidentally grabbed the pizza cutter instead. He jerks the rolling wheel into the orange, but instead of cutting it, the impact makes the orange go flying across the table. Len gasps in shock, dropping the cutter to jump over the surface to get it, but he ends up sliding over it, his hand futilely missing the fruit by inches-
-and suddenly he's falling off the table, headfirst.
He yelps as he tumbles off the smooth tabletop, smacking down onto the tiled floor without any kind of grace or dignity. He lies there, the orange resting beside his face, while the shavings he'd had coating the table gently float down from the edge to coat his shirt.
The worst kind of defeat- losing to an enemy fruit.
Len doesn't know how he fell this far in his life. What choices did he make that led to this ultimate defeat, this painful blow to his pride? Did he deserve this fate, lying on the dining room floor, a bump on the top of his head that he can feel growing already?
He's decided to definitely stick to bananas from here on. Even if his mirror image makes oranges look amazingly delicious, he's done with it. They're not worth the emotional pain.
"...What are you doing?"
Or, unfortunately, the physical pain either.
He doesn't move, his entire body stilling when he hears that familiar light voice inquire in a thinly calm tone. His eyes flicker to the doorway, where Rin stands staring at him, her hands on her hips, a bag hanging from her wrist containing- gasp- bananas.
If he lives to see tomorrow, he'll tell her he loves her.
"Len," she asks again, her blue eyes narrowing. "What are you doing?"
He must be quite the sight. Sprawled out on the floor, covered in orange skin, a battered and beaten orange mere inches from his face looking as if he'd spent quite a lot of time desecrating it for fun. Sharp objects lying haphazardly on the dining room table.
No wonder her face is slowly turning the shade of a ripe apple.
He can only sigh and prepare for his imminent demise, swallowing hard.
"...I can explain," he squeaks.
The answering smile he receives is bone-chilling at best as she takes a step forward, glaring down at him.
"Oh, I hope so."
A/N: This is unbeta'd.
This is what happens when I try to write things for my friends. o.o
Happy happy birthday, hope y'all really like this.
I was going to write a drabble, but then something happened where Len became more sarcastic and I wondered just what kind of plight I'd give him- and then this happened.
Anyway, thanks for reading~!
Read on~.
~Disclaimer~ I own only a fondness of fruit and some nonsensical logic, nothing more.