Work Text:
An uneasy silence filled the kitchen, the same silence that had festered in the med bay and followed them there.
To think, Tei wondered, before that game would relish the silence, the peacefulness, he rarely got a moment of peace and quiet in his life, why else would it be different in a literal death game?
But this type of quiet felt unnatural, ominous, disturbing even, as it wasn’t due to his “cuff buddy” deciding to not be chatty tonight, Tei would actually prefer hearing the snarky comments and muttered insults.
How the tables have turned…
As Tei dug around the cabinets for ingredients, he spared a glance at Ikeda, who remained quiet, his eyes gazed in no particular direction like he hadn’t processed the fact he and Tei were in the kitchen, his broken arm pressed to his chest.
It felt wrong seeing him like this, seeing him look so scared and out of it, barely speaking a single word, though that may be due to the cut on his face that discouraged his voice, Tei couldn’t tell if that was a better answer.
In his other arm he held a stuffed cat with obnoxious sparkly colors, apparently Denden had found it in the storage room, tucked behind one of the shelves of beauty products that hadn’t been poached by one of his fellow kidnapped teenagers.
She had approached them when they were still in the med bay, thankfully whatever deity was up there, it was just her and not Kumada, if it was up to Tei he’d never see the gang leader for the rest of his life, but unfortunately there was still tomorrow’s game.
Denden had placed the cat plushie on the table next to Ikeda then backed away, like she knew the artist needed space. “I don’t think it's a good enough sorry, but he should have some comfort after… Everything.” She had said before leaving as quickly as she had entered.
Whatever he felt about the ice sculptor, for her actions in Voter Game, it was muted by the kind gesture, at least one of these people showed a shred of remorse, he didn’t know if the others did, and it was both terrifying and disturbing at the same time.
“These soba noodles are cheap.” Tei quipped as he continued rummaging, not that he’d turn his nose up from the noodles, he often got the cheap stuff so he could pay his bills on time. “Also these ones right here are the stupidest shapes I’ve seen noodles in.”
He took out the package, full of noodles that were shaped into spirals and shapes that could’ve been drawn by little kids. “See how stupid these are?” Tei held up the package to Ikeda, so he could get a good look.
It was the most he had tried engaging in conversation with Ikeda, but the silence was maddening, and better to fill the emptiness with his tired ramblings than whatever was going on through the artist’s head.
Ikeda’s distant gaze focused in on the noodles, there was still that empty, tired look in them, but there was the tiniest glimpse of curiosity, a scoff escaping his throat, yet he didn’t speak.
That’s okay though, Tei still had plenty to say. “Right? They’re not that difficult to make, so do you want that, or soba?” Normally he saved noodles for those nights when he came home after several grueling shifts and he needed something quick and easy to make so he could get to sleep sooner, but he did not have the energy for fancy stuff.
And considering the hell that was today’s game, both of them needed all the sleep they could get, so dinner would be a fast one.
Ikeda raised an eyebrow at the pink-haired man, confusion flickering in his worn-out face, like he didn’t know why Tei was asking him of all people for his opinion.
Pre-Voter Game Ikeda would’ve judged him for his cheap taste in noodles, Pre-Voter Game Ikeda would’ve called him weird or dumb for letting him be in charge of dinner.
He didn’t know if Pre-Voter Game Ikeda would’ve been confused by getting to pick dinner, but Tei couldn’t ask him that anymore, the others had beaten and branded him and now he’s stuck with what’s left of the snarky, blunt-speaking artist.
Now he’s stuck picking up the pieces and he hates that there are pieces to pick up in the first place.
“What? I picked dinner last night, now it’s your turn.” Tei responded to the confused gaze with snark of his own.
That snapped Ikeda out of his daze and he pointed to one of the packages of noodles, and of course, it was the one with those stupid squiggly shapes. “Of course it’s this one…” But he’s a man of his word so it’s the weird noodles it is for tonight.
He wondered if Ikeda picked those noodles specifically just to troll him, which brought him an unexpected warm feeling, a smidge of hope that the Voter Game didn’t completely destroy Ikeda.
The artist watched curiously as Tei took out the noodles and put them in a skillet with some sauce and vegetables that he had already cut up. “Good thing we have a dishwasher, could you imagine if we had to handwash dishes?” He rambled while cooking, normally he’d put on music or some radio show when he cooked back at home, here his own voice would have to do. “One time my dishwasher broke and I had to handwash plates for two weeks before I could replace it. It was hell Ikeda, absolute hell.”
Ikeda responded with a roll of his eyes and the faintest hint of a smirk. “Okay yeah it wasn’t that bad but god I just hated having another chore at four in the fucking morning-” Tei paused, noting Ikeda’s eyes widen slightly. “Back then I woke up at four because I had this convenience store job and it was one of those stupid open all day all night places but it paid a decent amount so I put up with it.”
Ikeda hummed in acknowledgement while fidgeting with the sparkly cat plush in his arms, now that Tei thought about it, why was there a cat plushie in the storage room? For a place that was trying to get everyone to kill each other, it was an odd thing to put, but maybe whoever ran this place had a twisted sense of humor so he didn’t speak that question aloud.
Besides, the plushie was a comfort to the artist, and Tei didn’t want to ruin what comfort he had left by voicing his paranoia. “You gonna name that guy anything?” He instead asked.
He was met with a skeptical glare and a scoff. “What? It’s not weird or anything, lot of people give names to their plushies.” The amount of times Tei had seen kids bring their stuffed friends to an establishment he was working at was plenty, but he’d never complain about it. “I could give him a name if you’re not going to.”
The artist looked almost mortified at the idea of the part-timer naming a plushie, holding it to his chest like he was trying to shield the cat plushie away from Tei. “Hey! I’m not that bad with names!” He protested. Granted, he can’t remember the last time he had to name anything except those succulents on his windowsill that he only had because he found them abandoned at bus stops and they weren’t too hard to take care of, but he could give the plushie a decent name!
Ikeda chuckled, a hollow, dead-sounding chuckle, but it was the first time Tei had heard him laugh since Voter Game so he’d cherish the sound. “Ha-ha, hilarious.”
The noodles had finished cooking, Tei divided the serving into two separate plates, with Ikeda’s serving having much more on it than his own. He grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and placed them on the table alongside their food, their seating as far as the cuffs allowed them.
The artist hesitated on eating, he had noticed that his serving was more than Tei’s, and kept glancing at his plate and the part-timer’s, wondering why he had been given such a sizable amount. “You’re the one that wanted the dumb noodles so you get most of them.” Tei had answered, but it wasn’t the entire truth.
He didn’t want to sound like he was pitying or babying Ikeda though, or treat him like he’s fragile, or made of glass, he didn’t think that would help him, so he tried his best to treat him as normal, or whatever counted for normal in this place.
But Ikeda isn’t stupid, he probably picked up on the fact Tei was treating him nicer than usual, based on the skeptical look he got in response to his answer, but instead of pointing that out or bringing attention to it, the artist turned his attention to his meal, a barely present, but thankful smile on his face.
“Just don’t complain about there being too little soy sauce, we didn’t have that much left.” He commented before digging into his own meal, his cuff buddy replying with an amused huff, the bone-chilling silence replaced with the sounds of utensils clinking against ceramic plates.
Tei wondered if this sense of normalcy would too, be ripped into pieces by the next morning game, if it was another game like today’s, he feared there would be nothing left to salvage, but if it was like yesterday’s game, he thinks he would be fine, even if it means sharing a punishment.
He did try to take the last Voter Game punishment after-all, he’ll never regret that decision, he just regrets not being able to speak up sooner, maybe if he had done so when the punishments hadn’t begun to stack, some sense would’ve returned to the others.
It’s going to be difficult facing those people for the next morning game, maybe there won’t be a morning game because someone will have crossed the line and followed up on the rabbit’s suggestion, a mortifying thought to have and one he’d stuff in the back of his head, as angry as he is with the others, he doesn’t want this place to be anyone’s tomb.
But regardless of what happens or what type of game, Tei’s going to make sure that the both of them will be fine.