Work Text:
A Plumbing Catastrophe
As usual, he annoys her in the bathroom.
It started with a plumbing issue.
Nene practically seethes at the overflowing mess beneath her, toilet water bubbling up and streaming out of the bowl.
She doesn’t even know why it’s even bubbling – toilet water isn’t supposed to do that, as far as Nene’s concerned.
And what’s even worse, Hanako is grinning behind her.
Technically, she can’t physically see him grinning. But she knows that he is. She just does.
She sees the sheepish grin in his voice, when after a few 30 seconds of glaring or so, says, “I didn’t mean to.”
Nene almost sees red.
“What do you mean you didn’t mean to do this?!” Nene raises her voice in pointless anger as the ghost boy ascends into the air like some god of chaos, giggling almost like a child.
The water still continues to seep out endlessly like an eternal stream of poor decisions and even poorer plumbing skills. The toilet judges, the toilet laughs.
“Well excuse me for trying to help you!” Hanako raises his hands up in fake surrender, still wearing that guilty yet unapologetic grin on his face.
She hates it.
She wants to kiss it off of him.
Wait, what?
Nene shakes her head before dragging two hands down her face, making a noise at a frequency only dogs can hear before turning back to the toilet again.
She takes a deep breath and picks the plunger up like she’s going to war. And in a way, she is.
Her fingers wrap around the biting wood of the plunger, and reluctantly, she begins to try and unclog the toilet.
Only for more water to burst out of the bowl, hitting against the floor with repetitive thuds.
Nene recites a prayer in her head.
“Sorry.” Hanako apologises, but there is no remorse in his voice, only the vague amusement that is equivalent to a scientist watching a new species fail at walking.
Nene turns around before pointing an angry, sole finger directly into his sternum. And proceeds to regret it immediately because of the smug grin that spreads over his face like a warning for turmoil. Like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey.
“You did this.” Nene grits out, shoving the plunger into his hands. “So you’re gonna fix it.”
Hanako pouts in feign sorrow, and Nene wants to rip it off of him. Or kiss it off of him, whichever comes first. Whichever one would shut him up completely.
“But why?” He whines. “Call the kid, maybe he can help.” Hanako averts his gaze to the door.
“No, no, no.” Nene says. “Kou’s not gonna help you through this one.”
“Aww…”
Nene huffs out what can only be a sound of exhaustion before stepping back to lean against the sink.
Hanako, slowly, walks over to the overflowing disaster.
Nene actually thinks he’s about to do it.
But all is proven wrong when he turns around, still wearing the stupid grin like it’s natural, like it’s clothes.
“Y’know, maybe we can keep this the way it is.” Hanako starts, and Nene opens her mouth only to be silenced by his next actions.
He gestures to the angry toilet which is now screaming out in pure terror as they speak, almost murky water still flooding out of the bowl.
Hanako: “It’s a masterpiece.”
Nene: “It’s a plumbing catastrophe.”
Hanako: “It’s a beautiful disaster.”
Nene: “It’s an impending lawsuit waiting to happen. If me and my parents get sued for fucking up the whole bathroom I’m dragging you into jail with me.”
Hanako, wagging his eyebrows: “How romantic.”
Nene almost bashes his face in.
Hanako: “This could be placed in a museum. We can call it, ‘The Gorgeous Plumbing Tragedy That Leaks Toilet Water Like Metaphorical Tears.”
“I hate you.” Nene deadpans, her eyes open wide with fury.
“You looove me.” Hanako singsongs, and almost does a twirl.
“I loathe you.” Nene repeats.
“You so loooove me.” Hanako grins from ear to ear, floating a bit too close towards her.
Nene croaks out an inhuman sound before sinking to her knees.
Hanako barks out a satisfied laugh, and Nene is utterly defeated.
The toilet is unfixed.
Hanako is amused.
Nene is fuming.
Chaotic Gardening.
This time Hanako annoys her in an day, innocently enough, starts with Nene gardening.
Until Hanako decided to spoil it.
She was just purely watering her new flowers, humming a song that was a bit out of tune. But Nene could really care less.
To be honest, the flowers weren’t really for her. They were actually directed to a cute boy in the year above her.
She first met him in the corridors, all smooth skin and gleaming eyes. Shiny, brown locks of hair that haloed around him and painted him in a holy, devastatingly bright light. Everyone adored him, especially Nene.
Nene thought he was the love of her life.
And so, like a fool, decided to make him a special, secret handmade gift for him.
Hanako strides in, or rather floats, his usual smug grin plastered onto his face.
Nene just ignored him, she wasn’t going to let some childish ghost ruin her love life.
Hanako peered over her shoulder, looming ominously.
“This is for a boy?” He pointed at the abundance of flowers that sprouted out from the dirt, each petal curling out from the bud carefully.
“Hey,” Hanako nudged her. “Yashiro!”
Nene groaned.
Hanako gave her a lackadaisical grin, the corners of his mouth lazily curling up.
“I don’t think he’d really like this. I mean, look at your fat ankles!” He looked down, choking out an amused laugh.
Nene almost flinched, her eyes stinging with quiet tears that threatened to spill. Her legs had always been a weak spot, and Hanako had always pressed on the bruise until it bled.
But it’s not like he noticed, and everyone hated her legs. She was tired of trying to justify her looks or trying to feel pretty for other people.
So instead opening her mouth to silence him with a petty retort, or a strike on the head – or anything. She retracted the words before they could escape and swallowed them for safekeeping.
Hanako frowned, it was barely noticeable, really. Just a small tug of the lips, but to Nene it meant something so much more.
“Do you take that as judgement?” Hanako lowered his voice until it was levelled against a whisper, now speaking in a hushed tone.
Nene squeezed her eyes shut as her throat bobbed. She counted to ten.
The girl had always been able to silence his words like white noise, and blocking out his agitating voice had come natural to her. And besides, whenever someone else had scrutinised her legs, she wasn’t this pent up about it. Usually, on a good day, it’d take about a week or a few days to brush it off and forget about it.
But why was it so hard to not feel sad when Hanako had said those words?
Nene had known for a long time now that he could never like her. Not the way she did. Yeah, sure, she sometimes found him to be childish and immature – but when it truly counted, he showed reckless yet heartwarming signs of maturity and affection.
This boy was ready to be exorcised with regrets buried deep in his heart, with the crushing burden of sin that threaded through his veins and stained him with his guilt. And it was all for her, he was willing to do that.
For her.
In the Far Shore.
Nene cautiously opened her eyes, and a blurry, distorted figure came to view, messily shielded by the tears that flowed down her cheeks.
Hanako’s fingers twitched, moving up slowly to thumb the tears, yet remained rooted to his sides.
The boy looked down, slipping off his hat.
Nene remembers the first time he took off his hat. She remembers it clear like day, choppy raven hair that fell across his amber eyes. The skin between his brows wrinkled into something she could only describe as worry, or guilt if she reached for it. His fingers fidgeted bashedly with the black fabric of his hat, and his eyes bore into the ground beneath them.
And Nene also remembers, that the first time he took off his hat was in the garden. He looked bare for a moment, a glimpse into the soul of the boy who came before Hanako. He looked tender. He looked unbearably real.
And Nene can’t handle it. The fragility, the nakedness, the reveal of the cracks beneath the mask. The mute agony that settled in the spaces between his bones for what had seemed like an eternity. Hanako had almost, just almost, laid himself bare – and Nene didn’t know what to do.
Because when Hanako is joking, flirting or prideful with a gaping grin or theatrical amusement, it’s so much easier to hide. To pretend that the feelings carved into her aren’t real. To pretend to not notice the subtle flush of her cheeks whenever he had so much as touched her.
It was sickening of how much of an effect this boy had on her.
Nene stood there, her feet planted to the ground. Her breath stilled, time slowed, and the surroundings caved in on them until it was only them two.
Nene’s pulse thundered in her ears, a dramatic melody that was unmistakably hers.
“I—It’s okay.” The words untangled from her throat, and the noises around them tuned in again. Nene let out a breath she was probably holding since the second she realised her undeniable feelings for him.
Hanako silently puts his hat back on again, nodding wordlessly.
Nene averted her gaze, tried to avoid his eyes. Because if she did, there was no way she’d last.
She hadn’t even realised that their fingers were interlocked, as Hanako slid their fingers together and entwined them like their hands were made to do this. The solid warmth of his palm fitted so rightly in hers, and Nene felt a sudden pang in her heart. It was almost painful to even breathe.
A faint blush was noticeable, barely dusting his cheeks but enough to call it something.
It was just them. The boy who locked himself into a cage called his heart with the key, and the girl who recklessly chased after him with wonder in her eyes and a determined resolve in her bones.