#sara. sara you loveley bean

[lackadaisical-pottymouth]

@desfraisespartout WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ITS 3AM IM SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING

Forgive any spelling errors bc, like I said, it's three in the darn morning and Sara's idea heckin woke me from the sleeping world

--

Rei wouldn't have said he knew Eishi. Not really, no. They'd worked, what, a couple years together? Had been roommates since the last autumn, too. Surprises came every day.

But he knew enough to say with certainty that he would be the death of him.

In his mind it played out like this: An aged Rei would be wearing the silk robe he'd splurged on. His face would have the slightest dust of facial hair on top of ridges the years had gifted him. He'd leave his room in a disoriented fit while lightning crackled outside. It would be cold, too cold. Seeking warmth he'd make for the cabinet that held all the extra towels, foolishly not turning on the lights because of his own pride.

He'd courageously scale the ladder they kept near it and reach for the oddly already toasty blankets. But just as he began the downward scale there'd be a scream of lightning, another gasp of wind.

The sound of footsteps where there had been none.

He would freeze, petrified.

And then, in the distance, there'd be a pair of glowing eyes. His disoriented state would be unable to tell the lumbering form of his canine comrade, the same way Gevaudan would be unable to navigate properly in the lowlight. They would collide. He would fall, landing on his head, sealing his fate.

In his dying moments there'd be the pad of feet as he feebly signalled Gevaudan to get... Eishi... He'd know what to do. His vision would be blurry, so blurry, but he'd fight for consciousness.

But Gevaudan would stay put, agonizingly so. And the footsteps would grow louder as his focus grew more muddled. His last conscious vision would be of Eishi scratching the fluffy beasts chin. Good boy, he'd say, taking a swig from a probably-sentimental wineglass.

And then there'd be fire. Probably.

(Image courtesy of late night insomnia. Theatrics by an indulging hardass of a friend, who entertained the tangent and offered critique. Starring actual Demon Gevaudan.)

But needless to say he hadn't been expecting death by embarrasment. Or the chameleon grin that stole across Eishi Karasuma's face as his brain chose the precise moment to stop processing English. Or the mess of liquid that puddled on the floor from the side of the table.

Thirteen other people in the room and Rei knew he was screwed the minute the first syllable had crossed his lips.

"Oh damn," one of Marilyn's people flustered, wiping futily at the trail that had stained his pant leg, "of all the things. My bad dude."

And he'd not thought anything of it as he waved his hand and said, "Nah it's fine, just hand me a Terry and I'll be solid."

But then he froze. And the words replayed in his head. And his eyes locked on where Eishi had been speaking with Marilyn and even if the intern thought nothing of it he knew he wouldn't be able to play it off because Eishi. Was. Smiling. And it was like some message had passed between them that let him know he. Knew.

"Rei? Mr. Sagisawa?"

He blinked back at the intern, who stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "I just need an, uh," but the word escaped him. The French equivalent bounced in there, traded pleasantries with the recollection some other version. But the proper English term remained absent.

In its place as guest of honor stood the damned Eishi Karasuma version.

Now came a small ocean of emotions from amusement to shock to the realization that the little name joke was part of the longest most conveluted plot in his small segment of history.

They raged together as the word eluded him and it was so frustrating because Terry was another word for cloth and it worked. But Terry was also the name it'd been rechristened at home as part of the spite campaign that he'd thought had turned inside joke. Along with the Jackson's and the Marie's and the Ava's and the other bits of utensil and furniture that had donned new names as unfortunate collateral.

But, right.

"I need a T--" (the cough covered his shattered pride) "terry!" He said brightly, after what would've been seconds but could've been years. And he was already rising to get it himself when a faded yellow fabric materialised in his field of vision.

Behind him, the intern gushed her thanks. "Thank you so much Eishi!" She said, reaching for the fabric and somehow unaware of the incredible smarm hidden behind passive eyebrows.

A moment passed and Eishi's lips quirked into the mime of a phrase he'd almost forgotten. But when he looked again, it was as if it had never been there.

Eishi shrugged, made some comment about getting a baggie to put the now destroyed napkins in, and left memories conjuring in Rei's head.

Months prior, with some kind of plot splattering on the screen in Technicolor. The couch empty because it was quite frankly an atrocity to sit on, and in the act of being replaced.

He couldn't even remember the context that well! All he remembered was the echo of his voice. The tease in his tone as he scrolled on his tablet. "These things have names, Mr. Karasuma."

And when the seats had arrived he'd been mildly amused when Eishi had called it the 'Amelia', the words still present, but mostly faded. From there it had spread, a game of names that most times Eishi won (there was a reason the dog was Gevaudan and not something sensible).

"These things have names, Mr. Sagisawa."

He couldn't even be mad.

#sara. sara you loveley bean #ive had some measure of this idea all day since you sent the message but im so tired #its terrible but WHATEVS i REGRET NOTHING #this is all on mobile does it even have a rmore functiom