Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei owns the characters.
Warnings: ridiculously light shounen-ai/OshiGaku.
A/N: Written for the Write One Leaf prompt of "earthquake" on Tumblr. Having weird writer's block. Also, shindo scale is what they measure earthquakes on in Japan instead of the Richter. Tru fax.
Gakuto loves flying. But just as much as he loves flying, he hates falling. They go hand in hand, of course, and he has no choice but to accept this. But he hates every time he feels the air rush in the opposite direction, every time he feels his weight bringing him down.
Really, though, he hates the earth. He hates it for being so constricting, hates it for its gravity and the fact that it's hard and heavy and not the air that he so desperately wants to be in. Sure, neither is water, and fire is most definitely out, but at the core it's the earth he hates and the ground beneath his feet he wishes he could get rid of.
And the right now – right now, when the Earth is moving beneath his feet – well, he hates it more.
"Gaku?" Oshitari settles next to him, wrapping an arm around the acrobat's shoulders. "It'll be all right."
Gakuto nods his head mutely, curling in to the warm arm. Around them everything shakes, and there is a loud smash as a glass goes tumbling from the counter and lands on the hard linoleum of the kitchen.
Gakuto yelps.
"Shhhh," Oshitari calms, and Gakuto pulls his knees to his chest in fear. He knows it is childish – he is in college, not kindergarten! – but Oshitari says nothing as they sit together.
Eventually the movement of tectonic plates below them stops, and the radio in the corner flickers back to a proper signal. Oshitari gets up and crosses the room, turning it up higher so he can hear from where they have been sitting under a table, before coming back and retaking his place.
Gakuto is thankful.
He is thankful that Yuushi knows him well enough to know he does not want to move, know that he is afraid of the aftershocks and of any damage that may have been done.
So, they sit.
Time flits by, and soon the pink light of dawn trickles through the still in-tact windows. In what sounds like the distance but really is not a man on the radio announces that the earthquake that hit the outskirts of Tokyo earlier this morning was a shindo three, and even though a few pieces of glassware fell it was bound to happen regardless.
As the sun clears the horizon and Mukahi Gakuto stands, he has never been more thankful for the earth under his feet, and had never – never- been more thankful to get off of it, either.
Ending A/N: Comments and critiques appreciated. Also, having weird writer's block (sort of) so prompts/requests appreciated.