Work Text:
Bzzz.
Fingers stilled for all two seconds before resuming the tap-tapping, the only sound that broke the silence of the study—
Bzzz.
…the only sound that broke the silence of th—
Bzzz.
Eiri frowned around his cigarette, but kept going, ignoring the phone that vibrated against his desk with another text from Shuichi. The fifteenth since the singer had gone into work that morning. This was supposed to be his time without any of the brat’s interruptions, but obviously he was the only who’d gotten that memo.
Bzzz.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
He exhaled through gritted teeth, smoke escaping along with his breath, and got the phone, flipping it open with more force than was probably necessary.
(12:40p.m.) Yuki look at this cat!
(12:41p.m.) Wait I forgot the pic hold on
(12:42p.m.) YUKI LOOK AT THIS CAT.jpg
(12:43p.m.) IT’S EATING HIRO’S TACO
Eiri deleted each message without hesitation.
He regretted, not for the first and certainly not the last time, the promise he’d made to always keep this phone on; Shuichi had been unrelenting about that. He’d turned it off once, telling himself it couldn’t really be that big a deal and Shuichi might not notice, anyway, since it wasn’t like he’d made it a habit of answering his texts. Shuichi had rejected his touch for a whole month as punishment. He had no idea when the brat had developed better self-restraint than him, but he wasn’t going through that kind of torture again. The phone stayed on.
It buzzed to life in his hand before he could even set it down:
(12:46p.m.) Can I bring this cat home if I also bring you tacos?
“…” Eiri replied quickly, imagining the excitement that would incite in his lover—until he actually read the text, anyway.
(12:47p.m.) Text me one more time today and I will wring your neck.
Bzzz.
Eiri paused at the coffee maker, looking over at his phone with an incredulous glare.
He had to be fucking kidding.
He passed by the phone that had Shuichi’s name flashing at him, heading for the kitchen doorway so he could see the singer sitting on the couch with Riku in his lap. They were bathed in the glow from the television, the only light in the room, and for a second Eiri just watched—tiny details of Shuichi’s face changing with every movement of the characters on the screen, Riku’s wide-eyed and unreadable expression staying the same as always.
“Shuichi.”
“Yes?”
Instant attention. That, at least, was appreciated. “What do you want?”
“Hm?” It was quick, but Eiri caught it—the upward tugging at Shuichi’s lips, which he had to work hard to resist. “What do you mean?”
Eiri’s eyes narrowed and he turned to go back, grumbling about idiots who wasted his time when he needed his coffee.
Bzzz.
Son of a—
Two messages, both the same.
(9:06p.m.) Left bowl o popcorn in kitchen can you bring it out??
Nostrils flared in irritation, a moment later had him standing behind the couch with the bowl of popcorn in hand.
“Oh, thank you, Yu—” He was cut off abruptly when the bowl was turned over, the popcorn promptly dumped on both of the couch’s occupants.
(9:10p.m.) Make sure you clean that up.
Bzzz.
Eiri growled. His fingers were flying over the keyboard, his eyes squinting through a cloud of cigarette smoke at his laptop. Behind him, the calendar announced that DEADLINE NUMBER 1 was rapidly approaching. Beside him, Riku sat on his knees in the chair typically reserved for Shuichi and picked up the phone to offer it to him.
“Just read it,” Eiri snapped without looking away from the words that were forming on the screen.
Riku nodded, flipped it open. “‘Are you busy?’”
Eiri snorted and kept going.
“Reply?”
“No.”
Riku nodded, closed it. He sat in silence while Eiri worked and smoked in equal ferocity. Cheering him on in spirit, certainly.
Bzzz.
Eiri felt eyes on him, the boy asking for permission. “Go ahead.”
Riku nodded, opened it again. “‘I want you to—’…”
He stopped; Eiri glanced at him after the pause went on too long. “What?”
The boy’s face gave away absolutely nothing as he put the phone down and stood up from the chair. Eiri stopped typing to watch him leave the study, brow furrowing in curiosity he couldn’t ignore.
He retrieved his phone, opened it to the message that had so disturbed his little companion. His eyes widened just slightly as he read the words, the dirty suggestion of an obviously bored and horny singer on his work break. He could feel his cheeks beginning to burn as he replied, though that had little to do with the text itself.
(3:34p.m.) You’re a horrible mother.
Bzzz.
Eiri hated that sound.
Bzzz.
Granted, it was preferable to the custom alert Shuichi had programmed for him while he was in the shower one morning. That damn irritating “YUKI I’M TEXTING YOU!” that’d had him jumping in his chair the first time he’d heard it. He’d gotten rid of that immediately. But still.
Bzzz.
He hated it.
Bzzz.
He’d become a murderer again just to kill that sound.
Bzzz.
Did Shuichi even do anything at work? See, that was why his lyrics continued to be crap, because he just sat around and sent stupid texts all day.
Bzzz.
All—
Bzzz.
Damn—
Bzzz.
Day.
Bzzz.
Enough. He grabbed the phone, not even looking at the flood of messages before sending his own.
(2:38p.m.) I have more important things to do than read all this shit. Stop it. I’m serious.
Bzzz.
Tired, bloodshot eyes glanced at the name popping up on the phone. Mizuki. She’d resorted to texting him since his manuscript was due three days ago and he’d unplugged the landline.
The only texts he’d gotten in almost a month.
Bad Luck was on their second week of touring and Shuichi called him every night as he always did, but he seemed to have taken the last text Eiri sent to heart. Much to the writer’s surprise and, perhaps, displeasure.
…No, there was no ‘perhaps’ about it.
Shuichi was gone and instead of savoring the peace and quiet, he found himself hating it, unable to concentrate, missing, of all things, the daily barrage of messages he really didn’t care about, missing knowing that every time he heard that horrible buzzing, it meant Shuichi was thinking about him.
“Disgusting,” Eiri scolded himself in a grumble as he gave up on his half-hearted work and his dignity and the ability to sit upright, letting himself slump forward until his forehead met the keyboard.
Bzzz.
Eiri didn’t move. It wasn’t him.
…
But what if it was?
He groped for the phone without lifting his head, feeling foolish because he knew, he knew— Mizuki. He forced his thumb to send an exceptionally polite reply.
(1:04a.m.) You’ll get it. Fuck off.
Bzzz.
A few colorful, more-than-half asleep words were muttered into the writer’s pillow as he shifted away from the noise he just barely registered. Manuscript finally turned in, he’d been unconscious for two days and he wasn’t about to give that gloriousness up for anything. Not even the boy (who’d taken to sleeping in their bed whenever Shuichi was out of town) crawling over his body to reach the phone on the nightstand.
He didn’t say anything once he’d gotten it and settled back in place, and Eiri relaxed again, slipping back into complete, sweet, sweet slee—
“Dad.”
No.
“Dad.”
No.
“Dad.”
Eiri whacked him with his pillow, snarling. “Stop calling me that! What do you want?”
Hair in disarray but otherwise unfazed, Riku just held the phone out to him. Eiri snatched it with a scowl, looking down at—
(7:20a.m.) I’ll b back home tomorrow!!
Aggravation drained out of him a lot faster than he’d ever care to admit. He gave Riku’s head a pat and lay back down, rereading the message until the screen started to go dark. He blamed his reply on drowsiness.
(7:30a.m.) Good.
Bzzz.
Eiri looked up slowly from Mizuki’s notes, eyebrow arched. Shuichi smiled back at him from the other end of the couch, while Riku watched cartoons between them. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, flipped it open.
(10:16a.m.) Hi
Eiri rolled his eyes and started to put it back.
Bzzz.
There was a faint twitch of annoyance, but he opened it again.
(10:17a.m.) I love you
He glanced at the singer, who blew him a kiss over Riku’s head. Eiri said nothing, allowed no response, and went back to reading his editor’s notes; but he kept the phone in his hand in a loose, waiting hold.