One Bad Week
Chapter 4: Sunday Continued
There he goes again.
Lifting the steaming mug of tea to his lips Yuki took a long sip before setting it back down on the coffee table.
Hyperactive idiot.
A barely visible blur of pink raced past so fast Yuki did not even miss a second of the television show his eyes were currently fixed on.
Not that he was really watching it anyway.
After counting the number of pills and finding four missing the author had called the hospital and confirmed that Shuichi was in no danger of over-dosing. The nurse, however, seemed a bit uneasy about the teen's reaction to the medication. Nonetheless she assured Yuki that the effects should not last more than a few more hours. It had eased his mind enough to be able to eat and force Shuichi, who seemed convinced that food was never to be allowed to touch his lips again, to eat before sitting down to enjoy a few moments in front of the TV; for the most part, anyway.
Shuichi, being the natural idiot that he is, did not seem to realize that one of the side effects of Hydrocodone is fatigue. So the pink-haired J-pop singer was now racing around the apartment like a madman. Fortunately, Yuki had convinced his lover that the place was filthy and Shuichi, in his drug-induced enhanced state of stupidity, had now taken it upon himself to completely wipe down every square inch of their home.
Literally.
From the corner of his eye Yuki could see Shuichi carrying a bucket, sponge, bleach, and a scrub brush in the direction of the bathroom. It was not really necessary to go to those lengths to clean the bath since Yuki kept the entire house pretty clean. But since Shuichi was ten times more annoying right now, Yuki could not be bothered to care. A loud thud and the sound of splashing greeted him a few minutes later and then Shuichi's cry of "I'M OKAY!" rang through the apartment.
The novelist sighed. "I need a cigarette."
Reaching to the pack on the table he growled upon discovering it was empty. Sighing again, Yuki stood up and made his way back to his study where he knew a fresh pack was sitting in one of the drawers of his desk. Passing the bathroom the overwhelming stench of bleach greeted him and Yuki peeked in to ask his idiot boyfriend why he was using so much. What he found was borderline scary and amusing at the same time.
Apparently the pink-haired singer had managed to trip and drop everything he was carrying. The bleach must have gone airborne since at least half the gallon was now dripping from Shuichi's hair. The singer was now standing in the middle of the bathroom looking like he was going to cry.
Or already was. It was hard to tell when he had his head lowered.
Yuki sighed again and thought about keeping count of the number of times he had done so in the past few hours.
"What happened now?" Yuki asked.
Looking up at the sound of the novelist's voice, it became apparent to Yuki that Shuichi was, in fact, crying. A fact that did not help Yuki understand the string of hiccupped words that flew at super speed from the teen's mouth as he tried, in his Shucihian way, to explain why the bathroom was covered in bleach. Yuki simply rolled his eyes and grabbed his lover's arm, placed him the shower, and turned the water on.
"Scrub that crap out of your hair before you become a blond. Then clean this mess up, alright?"
Placated for the moment the singer quickly complied and Yuki left him alone to find his cigarettes. A few seconds after leaving the study, new pack of cigarettes in hand, a naked pink blur streaked past him and into the bedroom shutting the door with a loud slam.
"I'm gonna do laundry Yuki, want me to do yours, too?" Shuichi yelled through the door.
"Hell no!" the writer screamed back.
It was only nine o'clock. Yuki sighed again and went to the kitchen for a beer.
Shuichi, in the meantime, was busy in the bedroom hurriedly gathering every last piece of dirty clothing that belonged to him. It was a little hard to manage without a bulldozer to help, but he eventually got everything into the laundry room with only a minor struggle. He was expecting a fight; after all, he was hauling over half his wardrobe at one time. Ignoring his new nakedness Shuichi proceeded to stuff the washer full of clothes. Jumping onto the machine and stomping the clothes in seemed to help, and soon every piece of cloth was neatly wedged inside. He dumped his wet, bleach splotched clothes in last and shut the lid.
Oops! Almost forgot the soap!
Re-opening the lid, he measured and poured a half-cup of washing powder in, shut the lid, and stared at the machine for a few minutes. Then he remembered that it would have to be turned on.
Let's see…Super Load…Cold/Warm…Hmm…What's this? Mega Ultra Spin? What a cool sounding setting!
Pulling the knob out, the sound of water (just barely) filtered through the lid and Shuichi grinned. Getting his laundry done in one load was not just a record; it was going to be a huge time saver too. Humming, he made his way into the bedroom (having discovered his natural state of dress) and searched around for clothes to wear. Unfortunately, it seemed the only things left were pajamas, a tank top, and a pair of short shorts. Well, it wasn't like he was going anywhere after all. So, with this thought in mind, Shuichi jumped into a pair of boxers (his favorite pair, with little bunnies on them) and grabbed a tank top.
Medications tend to pick the most unusual times to stop working.
Now was one of those times.
Heading towards the living room all thoughts of cleaning or laundry left Shuichi. By the time Yuki and the couch came into view, the singer was literally dragging himself across the floor.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Yuki asked, raising his eyebrow at the suddenly lethargic younger man.
Just making it to the couch Shuichi plopped down and groaned. "Sooooo tirrrreddd!"
Yuki rolled his eyes and put his cigarette out. "Bout damn time."
He didn't bother protesting when he found his lap full of Shuichi's head, opting instead to simply begin running his fingers through the teen's hair.
The very pink and white swirled hair.
He managed not to laugh though. Yuki knew Shuichi was going to freak out when he saw the splotches of white decorating his head tomorrow. The poor boy looked like a rejected Easter egg. They managed a few minutes of comfortable silence, interrupted only by the television, before a loud grating sound started up from down the hall.
"What the hell is that?" he asked gruffly, immediately looking down to his idiot lover for answers.
Shuichi opened his eyes and listened for a few seconds before realization hit. Jumping up, he tore past Yuki and down the hallway. Yuki began massaging his temples the second Shuichi disappeared. There was just no telling what could possibly happe-
"ARRRGGHHH! KILLER WASHING MACHINE!"
Eyes widening, Yuki jumped up and started down the hall.
"SPIN CYCLE OF DEATH! YYYUUUUKKKIIIIII! HHHEEEEELLLPPPPPP!"
That's what I need. Help.
Although Yuki did learn something knew.
He didn't know washing machine could hop.
Ten o'clock.
The washing machine was now dead.
Shuichi in all his glorious stupidity, and apparently still slightly hopped up on the pain medication, decided that the threat needed to be eliminated.
His exact words by the way.
As Yuki threw the now broken baseball bat in the trash, he silently wondered if Shuichi had ever been on a baseball team when he was a kid. If the washing machine were any indication, the singer would have been a sure-fire homerun hitter. Finishing the tea, he grabbed a cup and went into the living room. Setting it down in front of his miserable looking boyfriend, who had just seen his pink and white hair a few moments ago (and as predicted, freaked out) Yuki sat down and lit a cigarette.
"Anything savable?"
Shuichi sighed and shook his head. "No. All my clothes are ruined."
"Why in the hell did you put them all in the machine at one time?" Yuki growled out.
"Why in the hell did you let me?" the singer shot back.
"That's it. No more pain medication for you."
Shuichi sighed again and flopped back on the couch. "Fine. I'll just hurt in silence."
"Idiot. You can take aspirin or some thing. No more of that pain medication for you."
The singer didn't respond; he was too lost in his own thoughts. Most of which consisted of cursing the Gods that had obviously taken a vacation and not heard his plea to stop the bad luck that was now slowly sending him to an early grave. Pocky be damned! If just one good thing could happen he wouldn't touch the stuff for the rest of all his lives!
That thought was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
Yuki sighed again, and then berated himself for losing count.
"We'll go to the mall tomorrow and get you some new clothes, alright?"
Shuichi perked instantly. "Really, Yuki? Really?"
"Yes, really. We need a new washing machine anyw-"
As earlier, Yuki didn't bother to protest. A lapful of Shuichi is one thing.
But a mouthful is so much better.