Author's Notes: Little Farfarello one-piece, inspired by far too many AMVs on Youtube. Please enjoy.
Sunday Morning
Used to be, I'd go to church this morning, and every morning before and every one after. Used to be, I'd get up at dawn and pray and fast until the bread and wine were served, one flat, the other heady and rich. The priest didn't believe in watering the wine down, and very much believed that the children ought to drink it, just like the adults.
Used to be, I'd sing these days with the choir, led by a woman who once was my mother.
Used to.
I still wake at dawn, as I do every day, and struggle out of bed to the kitchen. I fill and start the coffeemaker and put a kettle of hot water on for tea. I don't drink the coffee, but I know that my leader will be waking now, and unpleasant until he has a cup of the dreadful stuff. I pick a can of loose leaf tea, this kind flavored like gingerbread. I don't care much for the caffeine, large amounts of the drug counteracts my antipsychotic and allergy medications, and it completely eliminates the effect my glaucoma drops have for my eyes.
If I keep the tea consumption down to three cups a day, or drink decaf, I should be fine.
The kettle whistles and I quickly pull it off the stove to keep it from waking Nagi or Schuldig. It's Nagi's day in from school and we let him sleep in as late as he wants. Schuldig usually won't get out of bed until well after noon, whether or not he's awake, and it's best not to bother him.
I set my tea to steep and pour a cup of fresh coffee, setting the cup into Brad's waiting hands, not at all bothered that he managed to sneak up on me. He does that without realizing, it's the way he walks. He nods his thanks and sinks into the kitchen chair to blow across the steaming liquid as I sip my tea, numb to the pain of scalding hot water down my throat.
I stare out into the morning, across the waking city, spotting otaku and businessmen escaping their wives for a day at work or with the whores. Some are going to church, dressed in their best, and some to the temples, kimonos of bright silk flapping in the breeze. I have no plans today, the gym I visit is closed, and television is aimed more for children than adults, game shows and mindless cartoons.
I briefly consider the library and toss the thought away. It's the first day of April, and I know exactly where I want to be.
"You've got the day off, right?" I ask Brad without turning from the window. He grumbles an affirmative, barely awake enough to swallow. His eyes are closed against the offending light of morning, but he should be awake in a few minutes.
"Want to go see the blossoms with me? They should be pretty."
"First thing in the morning and you want to drag me through the crowds to look at trees?" he growled.
I laughed. It was better than dragging him to a movie. He hated them so much that he always ruined the endings just to get out faster.
Fin Sunday Morning
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