sweetdeath | [004 | text, Japanese]

Current Location: Mariner High School

Entry tags:

hisoka is love,
ic

[004 | text, Japanese]

The doors are open! Man, that was a weird day - robots and people seeing things and all....

Hisoka, where are you?

"Maybe." Tsuzuki paused for a long moment, letting the crackle of flames and the soft sloshing of the soup as he stirred fill the silence, then went on, "One of the people here who had his chip removed told me that he saw ghosts everywhere. If this place has some kind of analogue of Meifu, I think I'd like to talk to a few people there." The soup was bubbling; he pulled the pot off the fire and walked over to the table, looking around for a bowl.

Forgetting his good table manners for the sake of presentation, Hisoka rested heavily on his elbows and looked vaguely cranky. "If this entire world was wiped out by a sudden plague, I wouldn't be all that surprised."

Tsuzuki found a bowl and poured soup into it, leaving the remainder in the pot. Bowl and spoon went in front of Hisoka, and he sat down on the other side of the table, eying the pot and considering how long it had been since he'd eaten. Dinner yesterday, right?

"Apparently a number of the ghosts were wearing hospital gowns," he said, looking back at his partner. "You're probably right."

Hisoka just looked at him. Tsuzuki knew better than to think Hisoka would eat while being watched. And mentions of deaths in hospital gowns in dilapidated nightmarish old buildings only made his stomach twist more with his own memories.

Funny what extreme circumstances could conjure up, but really, he supposed it was better than Muraki.

"Yeah," he muttered, looking down and fiddling with his spoon.

Tsuzuki returned Hisoka's look for a long moment. His partner wasn't eating. Maybe stealing some of the soup would work. He scooted back from the table, standing up to go look for a spoon of his own, and trying to shake the chill that talking about the ghosts here had brought. He wasn't immune to his own memories, after all, though Hisoka's worried him more at the moment....

He came up with the spoon at last, and sat back down, pulling the pot towards himself. Better to avoid the extra washing up, right?

"...Are you going to eat that, Hisoka?"

He refused to flush and muttered something about burned throats not healing, stirring.

Laughing, Tsuzuki downed a spoonful of the soup, and manfully did not sputter. "It's only a little hot. And I don't think burned tongues take that long to heal anyway, do they?" One more thing, he thought with a pang of something half annoyance and half discomfort, that he didn't know. It had been too long.

At that rate, Tsuzuki was going to choke himself by accident. "And you gave me a severe look for biting my thumb," Hisoka snorted, and managed a much smaller sip from his spoon.

The unfamiliarity of the situation was making him feel awkward, but he figured it was because his suppressed empathy made everything feel so incredibly silent. And lame as it was, he didn't like feeling so disconnected from his partner's mind. Previous experience left him ill at ease.

The soup was much easier to swallow as it cooled, but Tsuzuki wasn't about to admit it (especially since his throat was a bit singed.) He kept spooning it up, watching his silent and frowning partner. This wasn't easy on Hisoka. Tsuzuki wondered if it was the lack of empathy that was making him so uncomfortable, or if the night sleeping in a cold and empty apartment had done it.

Thoughtfully, he stretched out a foot to poke Hisoka's calf. The table was just small enough to reach.

"What are you thinking?"

It was strange that he found himself starting so much at that, without the thought of the gesture preceding it, and he managed another spoonful of soup to cover the pathetic reaction. "Nothing. That's the weird thing."

Tsuzuki prodded his partner's leg again, thoughtfully, hoping to cover that unsettled moment he'd seen on Hisoka's face up with annoyance.

"It's pretty good soup. I usually don't buy the canned stuff back home - instant noodles are cheaper."

There was something fundamentally wrong with him actually talking about food. He felt he was stealing his partner's shtick. "I guess you have one similarity with Tatsumi-san."

"Not really," Tsuzuki admitted, judging the distance between his spoon and his partner's bowl with an eagle eye. "I just usually don't have enough money left for real food." A quick motion, and he'd scooped up one of the formless potato chunks and popped it in his mouth.

"Cheap is cheap."

"Try telling Tatsumi that."

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[004 | text, Japanese]

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[action / mini log] ffff WATCH ME FAIL FOREVER

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