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Rip
Durin. He tosses the bag aside.
Rip
Ineffa. He tosses the bag aside.
Rip
Ineffa- Again? Flins tosses the bag aside, with more force this time. It lands with a soft thud on the couch and Flins’s hand is already reaching for the next box.
Rerir, sweet wonderful Rerir and inadvertent cause of his current problem, makes an irritated noise at the throw as he watches Flins continue viciously tearing through cardboard. “We have a trash can,” Rerir mutters not too quietly.
“I assure you I’ll clean it all up after I get it.”
Rerir raises a brow, “You sure?” And Flins does not need to look up at his face to know he’s eyeing the rapidly declining pile of figurine boxes on the table or how Rerir was thinking of Flins making the exact same promise twenty minutes ago.
The reminder makes Flins frown. Today was a special day, the day the figurines for the characters of ‘Nod Krai’, a show both he and Rerir were on, dropped. Flins found their chibi style rather cute and planned to get one of his character. Until they made the last minute announcement that the set also included a rare hidden figure of Rerir’s character, the Racher of Solnari.
Flins, man of absolute restraint and decorum he is, took the entire case from the store’s shelf.
He’s pretty sure he didn’t get recognized because it was blocking his face the whole time.
To his frustration, the ‘rare’ part of the announcement proved to be more accurate than he originally expected. He had already gone through nearly two thirds of the case, about a dozen Ainos, Laumas and whatever else yet still no luck.
It didn’t help that halfway through, Rerir pulled out his phone and realized because of how the release worked, there wasn’t a guarantee that he’ll get a single one even with a whole case.
“I could just ask for one, you know, and they’ll send it over.” Rerir interrupts, sensing Flins’s mood.
Flins pouts, “Where’s the fun in that?” What joy is there in such an easily won reward? How can Flins call himself a collector if he surrendered here? And how can Flins brag about getting the figure first if he has to wait for the shipping to go through?
Rerir sighs, muttering gambling addict under his breath but otherwise doesn’t move a single inch, accepting his continued position as Flins’s lap pillow. Good, it was really the least Rerir should do to make up for his role in Flins’s current suffering. That and the view when Flins looks up was a rather nice consolation for his misfortune.
Comfort secured, his hands quickly go back to opening boxes.
Rip
Lauma. He tosses the bag aside.
Rip
Nefer. He tosses the bag aside.
Rip
Him. He gives that one to Rerir instead.
Rip
Rip
Rip
Rip
Rip-
Flins’s breath stops when he catches the sight of distinct white hair, his usual languid smile freezes on his face. With shaking hands, he pulls out his prize, the card of chibi Rerir and the white blind bag next to it.
Finally. He can barely contain himself as he rips open the bag and grabs the tiny figure.
And what a prize it was. The Racher of Solnari was the series’s first main villain, a fearsome former assassin who took everyone’s cooperation to defeat and now forever immortalized as this tiny and adorable figurine.
Fantastic. Marvelous. Truly the height of human ingenuity. Peak, or so he has heard Aino say.
Really, Flins’s only regret is that they didn’t adapt the Racher’s naked chest.
A larger hand scratches against his head, “Happy?”
Flins is not shy to lean at the touch and bask in the warmth, his smile wide, “Hmm. It certainly took you long enough.”
Reir tsks and looks away from his beaming, “Don’t act like this is my fault. I was worried you were going to buy another case.”
“Oh? Are you implying you didn’t want another one of me? How cruel.”
“Don’t even joke about that, the tower is already creepy enough.” The ‘tower’ referring to the stack of Flins’s figure he built on Rerir’s side of the couch, eight pairs of yellow eyes staring at them unblinking.
“I for one think they’re rather adorable.”
Rerir scoffed, “And I think someone should be making good on their promise right about now.”
Flins barely has a second to react as Rerir stands up with a crack, leaving Flins’s head to fall pathetically on their couch with an oof. Soft and warm, that was apparently the texture of betrayal. Rerir watches him frown and grumble with a blank stare until Flins is out of complaints. Then Rerir finally approaches again.
The corner of Flins’s mouth lifts upward the tiniest bit with foolish hope before it is snatched away as Rerir’s hands cover his legs and yank him away from the comfort of their couch and towards a dark abyss. Chores.
“…Have I not suffered enough indignity on this day?”
Rerir ignores him, sweeping his gaze across their now cluttered and completely trashed living room before returning to lock eyes with Flins, “So you’re fine with the room looking like this?”
Flins wordlessly stares at the mess he made and finds himself short of any good retort. Damn Rerir and damn his own cleanliness.
Somehow without him noticing Rerir had already picked up the trash can and held it out in front of Flins like a sentencing.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“The figure was well worth every penny. I hold zero regrets.”
“Sure, sure.” Rerir said from his seat on the couch, looking very cozy as he watches Flins suffer and very noticeably not lifting a finger to help. Instead using it to pick up and squint at the figure of himself.
“Your room’s filled to the brim, where the hell are you going to place this anyways?”
Flins's mouth twitches. While he certainly can find a place among his other treasures to place the tiny Rerir, and it would fit perfectly, his mind had other ideas.
“I have a jar.”
“YOU-!”