Ryuichi was in a good mood. He'd managed to escape K by army crawling under
the desk and sofa in his apartment, climbing down the fire escape with his
back to the ladder, and performing a triple back flip onto the sidewalk. As
long as he hadn't missed any homing devices in Kumagoro, the day was his.
He skipped cheerfully down Sunshine Street. This particular strip of asphalt may or may not have been shinier than others, and he actually had no idea what the street was called, but anyone who navigates by throwing a pink bunny in the air and following the left ear doesn't loose much by rewriting the map.
"Singing, shining, I'm singing and shining..." Eventually, Kuma-chan's ear led him faithfully to the Ché Café, where he ducked inside, waved cheerfully to Tomas, the impossibly cute all-purpose grunt whose uncle owned the place, and skipped merrily to the large, round table at the back. As always, it was just as he'd left it, cookies and corn-chips in baskets at the center, and the drinks that corresponded to all his bestest friends around the edge. He followed each to its owner with a grin.
The large Mountain Dew marked Blake Irvine, who looked up with one of the few known grins to match Ryuichi's, baby-blue eyes shining like a pair of malfunctioning xenon bulbs and waving so energetically his hand should have come off. His look for the day was pink denim printed with sparkling quarter notes. Generally accepted as the parasite of the Ché Café outcast colony, he was nevertheless incorrigibly cheerful, impossibly hot in a hauntingly unreal, childish, androgynous way, and good at the very few things he actually tried to do, singing and bass.
The icy chai latte beside the Dew belonged to Damian Promalus, Blake's boyfriend since high school. Ryuichi had been tempted many times to make sure Day-chan wasn't a girl. His cascade of pale blonde hair, dazzling green eyes, lithe figure, and fondness for black, slinky turtlenecks and high-heeled boots made Ryuichi's bizarre confusion excusable, for once. Despite being so damned otherworldly at first glance, he was the most down- to-earth person Ryuichi knew. He was working on a law degree and juggling two jobs, barely leaving him time to loiter at the Café and churn out mildly pornographic sci-fi novels.
A big pitcher of grape Coolade half hid the two kids enjoying it. Robin, at nine years, Damian's daughter, and Lona, with only four winters, Blake's niece, had semi-permanent leave to hang around with their guardian's weird friends. Ryuichi loved the little brats to death, even if they were the least angelic children he knew. Robin had a genius IQ and a sardonic streak to match her father's, and Lona acted like a possessed demon-child whenever she wasn't watching extra-obnoxious cartoons. Apparently, the sugar water was placating both evil forces at the moment.
Ryuichi swallowed nervously as his eyes jumped to a black coffee and followed the tendrils of steam to its owner. Alec Aethl. Eyes of dusky purple, chiseled Nordic features, a complexion like icy ivory, flowing locks like midnight made liquid, and a body anyone would kill for. A cigarette dangled gracefully from his lips as his—incredibly, awesomely captivating—eyes darted across the notebook he was glaring at. Probably his latest poem. Ryuichi could only assume he wrote about deep, beautiful, hopeless things, but any time he spent thinking about Alec made his brain shut down completely. This wasn't an event that registered much on any cosmic scale, but after the third time he'd almost been hit by a truck, Ryuichi decided it would be best to confine his fantasies to more opportune times. He didn't have a lot of luck.
He forced his gaze from Alec before his pulse went up much more. It fell on a tall ice-tea, complete with lemon wedge. Zephyr, whose custom T-shirt at the moment read "Friends are enemies without to balls to kill you" and whose hair was currently black and short. Ryuichi wasn't at all fond of the invisible field of eggshells surrounding her, and trod softly even around its perimeters. She hadn't even noticed him, to busy muttering dire threats at a piece of paper.
Sibby was beside her, as usual, sucking the whipped cream off the top of a caramel Italian soda that had graced the table a moment before. As usual, she was the center of a general miasma of darkroom fumes, and elaborate camera... stuff Ryuichi didn't recognize took up most of the table, radiating from her. She appeared to be in her rarest of moods—good—and brushed a pink and green curl out of her eyes to wink at him cheerfully.
Ryuichi was surprised to realize he didn't know the girl next to her, and delighted to note she was obviously Japanese. He got sort of homesick sometimes. Exploiting his blissful ignorance of the laws of physics, he popped over to her side and flashed his most disarming grin. "Hiiiii! I'm Sakuma Ryuichi!"
"Of Nittle Grasper?"
"Yupsedaisy!"
"Cool. Uesugi Yori."
Wondering where he'd heard "Uesugi" before, Ryuichi sized up the newest addition to his bestest friends. She was tall, with strong but pretty features and an aura of strength. Her clothes were practical, and she didn't wear any jewelry, so the elaborately embroidered scarf wound around her head looked rather odd. "Hey... Uesugi like Tohma-chan's wife?"
"Mika? Second cousin. Don't expect to have heard of me. I'm disowned."
"Aw, really? Why?" Ryuichi took the chair next to her and waited for Tomas to deliver his usual chocolate milk.
"Our dear patriarch doesn't think ladies should be nuclear physicists. He also feels anyone with an extra X chromosome should be a lady." She took a long swig of espresso and grinned. "Of course, he doesn't like lesbians, either, but I decided to spare him that particular grief and sever ties before I came out." She gave Sibby's thigh an affectionate pinch.
"Okay. This is Kumagoro!" He stuffed the bunny in her face. Anyone who didn't weather this ritual satisfactorily was out of the magic circle, though Ryuichi was probably too nice to shun anyone, even if they didn't love Kuma-chan.
Yori shook the little plush paw with a completely straight face. "Well, hello, Kumagoro."
Ryuichi slid happily into the conversation. Damian's school and jobs were interfering with family again, Zephyr's Ritalin had been upped again, Lona was having trouble in pre-school, Sibby was trying out some new camera techniques, there was a new Nittle Grasper: Greatest Hits due for U.S. release, etc., etc. Ryuichi fervently wished Alec would join in more, but his slightly overlarge but perfectly loveable nose was still buried in his notebook.
A/N: No, I don't own Gravitation. That would be really cool. Anyway, another angsty, sappy, character-driven romance from good old me. There's obviously no plot as yet, but I assure you the next chapter shall give rise to, well, at least a situation of some sort. Anyone who remembers Yori from "That Night" will be pleased to discover why the hell she knows Ryuichi.
On another note, Blake, Damian, Robin, Lona, Zephyr, and Sibby are from an older, original story I wrote with a friend of mine. They just sort of leaked in here. It's pretty much irrelevant, except Steph would be pissed if I didn't give her some credit.
He skipped cheerfully down Sunshine Street. This particular strip of asphalt may or may not have been shinier than others, and he actually had no idea what the street was called, but anyone who navigates by throwing a pink bunny in the air and following the left ear doesn't loose much by rewriting the map.
"Singing, shining, I'm singing and shining..." Eventually, Kuma-chan's ear led him faithfully to the Ché Café, where he ducked inside, waved cheerfully to Tomas, the impossibly cute all-purpose grunt whose uncle owned the place, and skipped merrily to the large, round table at the back. As always, it was just as he'd left it, cookies and corn-chips in baskets at the center, and the drinks that corresponded to all his bestest friends around the edge. He followed each to its owner with a grin.
The large Mountain Dew marked Blake Irvine, who looked up with one of the few known grins to match Ryuichi's, baby-blue eyes shining like a pair of malfunctioning xenon bulbs and waving so energetically his hand should have come off. His look for the day was pink denim printed with sparkling quarter notes. Generally accepted as the parasite of the Ché Café outcast colony, he was nevertheless incorrigibly cheerful, impossibly hot in a hauntingly unreal, childish, androgynous way, and good at the very few things he actually tried to do, singing and bass.
The icy chai latte beside the Dew belonged to Damian Promalus, Blake's boyfriend since high school. Ryuichi had been tempted many times to make sure Day-chan wasn't a girl. His cascade of pale blonde hair, dazzling green eyes, lithe figure, and fondness for black, slinky turtlenecks and high-heeled boots made Ryuichi's bizarre confusion excusable, for once. Despite being so damned otherworldly at first glance, he was the most down- to-earth person Ryuichi knew. He was working on a law degree and juggling two jobs, barely leaving him time to loiter at the Café and churn out mildly pornographic sci-fi novels.
A big pitcher of grape Coolade half hid the two kids enjoying it. Robin, at nine years, Damian's daughter, and Lona, with only four winters, Blake's niece, had semi-permanent leave to hang around with their guardian's weird friends. Ryuichi loved the little brats to death, even if they were the least angelic children he knew. Robin had a genius IQ and a sardonic streak to match her father's, and Lona acted like a possessed demon-child whenever she wasn't watching extra-obnoxious cartoons. Apparently, the sugar water was placating both evil forces at the moment.
Ryuichi swallowed nervously as his eyes jumped to a black coffee and followed the tendrils of steam to its owner. Alec Aethl. Eyes of dusky purple, chiseled Nordic features, a complexion like icy ivory, flowing locks like midnight made liquid, and a body anyone would kill for. A cigarette dangled gracefully from his lips as his—incredibly, awesomely captivating—eyes darted across the notebook he was glaring at. Probably his latest poem. Ryuichi could only assume he wrote about deep, beautiful, hopeless things, but any time he spent thinking about Alec made his brain shut down completely. This wasn't an event that registered much on any cosmic scale, but after the third time he'd almost been hit by a truck, Ryuichi decided it would be best to confine his fantasies to more opportune times. He didn't have a lot of luck.
He forced his gaze from Alec before his pulse went up much more. It fell on a tall ice-tea, complete with lemon wedge. Zephyr, whose custom T-shirt at the moment read "Friends are enemies without to balls to kill you" and whose hair was currently black and short. Ryuichi wasn't at all fond of the invisible field of eggshells surrounding her, and trod softly even around its perimeters. She hadn't even noticed him, to busy muttering dire threats at a piece of paper.
Sibby was beside her, as usual, sucking the whipped cream off the top of a caramel Italian soda that had graced the table a moment before. As usual, she was the center of a general miasma of darkroom fumes, and elaborate camera... stuff Ryuichi didn't recognize took up most of the table, radiating from her. She appeared to be in her rarest of moods—good—and brushed a pink and green curl out of her eyes to wink at him cheerfully.
Ryuichi was surprised to realize he didn't know the girl next to her, and delighted to note she was obviously Japanese. He got sort of homesick sometimes. Exploiting his blissful ignorance of the laws of physics, he popped over to her side and flashed his most disarming grin. "Hiiiii! I'm Sakuma Ryuichi!"
"Of Nittle Grasper?"
"Yupsedaisy!"
"Cool. Uesugi Yori."
Wondering where he'd heard "Uesugi" before, Ryuichi sized up the newest addition to his bestest friends. She was tall, with strong but pretty features and an aura of strength. Her clothes were practical, and she didn't wear any jewelry, so the elaborately embroidered scarf wound around her head looked rather odd. "Hey... Uesugi like Tohma-chan's wife?"
"Mika? Second cousin. Don't expect to have heard of me. I'm disowned."
"Aw, really? Why?" Ryuichi took the chair next to her and waited for Tomas to deliver his usual chocolate milk.
"Our dear patriarch doesn't think ladies should be nuclear physicists. He also feels anyone with an extra X chromosome should be a lady." She took a long swig of espresso and grinned. "Of course, he doesn't like lesbians, either, but I decided to spare him that particular grief and sever ties before I came out." She gave Sibby's thigh an affectionate pinch.
"Okay. This is Kumagoro!" He stuffed the bunny in her face. Anyone who didn't weather this ritual satisfactorily was out of the magic circle, though Ryuichi was probably too nice to shun anyone, even if they didn't love Kuma-chan.
Yori shook the little plush paw with a completely straight face. "Well, hello, Kumagoro."
Ryuichi slid happily into the conversation. Damian's school and jobs were interfering with family again, Zephyr's Ritalin had been upped again, Lona was having trouble in pre-school, Sibby was trying out some new camera techniques, there was a new Nittle Grasper: Greatest Hits due for U.S. release, etc., etc. Ryuichi fervently wished Alec would join in more, but his slightly overlarge but perfectly loveable nose was still buried in his notebook.
A/N: No, I don't own Gravitation. That would be really cool. Anyway, another angsty, sappy, character-driven romance from good old me. There's obviously no plot as yet, but I assure you the next chapter shall give rise to, well, at least a situation of some sort. Anyone who remembers Yori from "That Night" will be pleased to discover why the hell she knows Ryuichi.
On another note, Blake, Damian, Robin, Lona, Zephyr, and Sibby are from an older, original story I wrote with a friend of mine. They just sort of leaked in here. It's pretty much irrelevant, except Steph would be pissed if I didn't give her some credit.