destinystrings | Every year, at this time / I'd look over at some friend of mine

Entry tags:

Every year, at this time / I'd look over at some friend of mine

Who: Shinjiro Aragaki + OPEN
Where: Naganaki Shrine + Iwatodai Dorm
Summary: Shinjiro tries very hard not to celebrate his birthday. He goes looking for lost watch instead. (Backdated to Sunday, August 11)
Warnings: Shinjiro's language habits. Not much else. Will update as needed.

[Naganaki Shrine]

[If Shinjiro could have his way, the eleventh of August would pass by just like any other. It would just be another mark on the calendar, and would end just like the tenth had before it: with no real significance—he saw no reason to make a big deal out of it (there were enough festivities in Hinoto-Ri already. Last thing he needed was another day). He didn't need or want the attention for just surviving another year. The eleventh had come and gone uneventfully last year, for the most part, when he only had one person to worry about meddling in his affairs. That person was gone (for five months and counting—shit if that still didn't feel more unnatural than anything else here), but Aki had certainly left even more tenacious replacements.

So when the sun rises that Sunday, he leaves the dorm early and heads out into the city. He has something that needs doing, anyway. He needs to retrace his steps: his watch is gone. He noticed it was missing far earlier. Even though he has a connected theory or two regarding its disappearance—other reasons to explain why his pocketwatch suddenly went missing, besides his being careless—he's not about to ask, because if it turns out it hadn't been taken it for some nefarious purpose that certain people shouldn't waste their time and goddamn money on, it would mean that he had lost it. It wouldn't be the first time. And the last thing he wants is for other people to go searching for it because of his own carelessness. And if there is a reason, he'll get it back eventually. …But he can't not look for in the meantime, can't leave it to some alleyway or god knows where. He worries that it's maybe stuck in that goddamn maze, and he won't be able to get it back.

So he takes the time to pass through the places he locations he frequents, searching. It's a good distraction, if nothing else, and before long he passes into Capricorn mid-afternoon and walks into the Naganaki shrine—one of the few remnants of his world, and thankfully empty. There, he begins searching for the watch he won't be able to find, ducking in and out of the playground equipment, searching the sand for something that may have accidentally gotten buried, even approaching the main shrine itself to look if it had maybe dropped in one of the offertory boxes, moving and cleaning any debris he finds that remains from the minor rainstorm a week before.]

[Dorm]

[Regardless of the outcome, he'll come home to the dorm eventually, as he always does, once the afternoon has passed into evening. He had intended to stay out longer, but in the end he gives into obligation and whatever else driving his return home. He can stand a few hours of nagging and actual socializing. Possibly. Maybe. Not really.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Shinjiro certainly hopes she hasn't spent her time wandering around any of the questionable areas he frequents, even though he's gradually started to worry (almost; his sympathy would be as laughably momentary as his predisposition to make actual lasting facial expressions) more about the morons who might try to jump her before realizing she has a death god inside her head.

The problem is she looks too cute to be all that intimidating at a towering five foot three.]

I'm not that stingy, [he says, managing not to look too surprised at her arrival: just a sharp turn of his head when she peers around his shoulder, and that hitching feeling he gets when he realizes his freedom has just been compromised—the same kind of feeling Aki probably felt every time Mitsuru caught him trying to sneak his way into Tartarus to train. He hadn't heard her. Expected her? Probably. He needs to start deviating from his routine and old habits.]

Just seeing what the storm last Sunday did.

[Which a half-truth more than a lie. Still, feels like a lame excuse, even if it comes to him quicker more than his excuses usually do (thanks Yarne.). He comes to the shrine often enough. It's part of his childhood—he has good memories here and wants the shrine to stay as he remembers it (and he also doesn't want a certain dog to be disappointed in him, in case he comes back one of these days). The city doesn't maintain it as completely or as often as Iwatodai did.

Still, it's obviously seen plenty of use since its arrival.

…He casually glances into the offertory box again. He feels like a fool looking inside it—it isn't like he dropped it into the box himself like some idiot who mistook a pocketwatch for currency. But you'd be surprised what you could find inside offertory boxes if you looked. Coins of course, but other things—from gloves people had left, to toys. Most people were well-mannered, of course, but the shrine was also next to a playground. Kids lost things. People lost things. And it was often easier to return it to one of the shrine's maintainers than a police box. And if they weren't around, the offertory box was one way to ensure it was seen and taken care of. People would return here to look for what they lost.

Still makes him feel desperate. But he can't not look, though it's silly to feel anxious about a watch, even if there's nothing to worry about in the first place.]

And cleaning up? That's nice of you. I bet Koro-chan would be happy, too.

[She pitches in to sweep up herself sometimes, but she's not exactly surprised to know that Shinji does it too. This place probably means more to him than it does to her, and she has a lot of memories here.]

Although.... it seems to me that it's more like you're looking something.

[and she has a sneaking suspicion that she knows what it is. She can't tip her hand just yet, though.]

[He shrugs his shoulders. He has his own suspicions, but is far and away from voicing any of them. His eyebrows knit together in thought anyway. Her offhand remark does marginally decrease the anxiety he hasn't quite been able to get rid quite yet. If he was completely confident in his suspicions, he wouldn't be looking.]

Just tryin' to kill time.

Kill time until what?

[until his birthday ends? It doesn't work like that, Shinji. If he'd managed to avoid her and Miki all today, they'd just get him tomorrow.]

[He affords her a long stare.]

Until being older ain't that much of a novelty.

[busted....... but she doesn't care]

You only get to turn ninteen once, senpai.

[Like she didn't know about it. Or guess it herself.]

I'll only remember it once.

[Back home, he'll get the joy of experiencing it twice. ...maybe.]

Just an arbitrary number, anyway.

[she knew, but now she knows he knew she knew. Or something like that.]

Arbitrary doesn't mean unimportant.

[coming from the girl who did absolutely nothing for her 18th birthday.] But anyway, since you brought it up... I was looking for you so I could give you your present.

[No matter how old he gets, he doesn't think that there will ever be a part of him that won't somehow feel childishly awkward when situations like this come up. Doesn't matter what it is—a casual kind observation, a word of praise, or something given. He's never enjoyed being at the center of attention. Not for a long time.

At the mention of a gift, he feels the same way. Even as expected as it is. He averts his eyes, taking one last quick look into the offertory box for even a glint of metal that isn't coin, before turning around on his heels.]

...There's a bench over there. [But he's resigned himself to it. He never thought he was going to escape anything, but he couldn't sit around and wait, like he was expecting something, like he felt was owed anything for being a year older—he wasn't, and didn't. Felt damned strange doing that. Even before things fell apart, things went unsaid mostly unsaid back then. He and Aki hadn't celebrated holidays or special occasions much, not since Miki died, but Aki would still tell him happy birthday. He'd then tell Aki to shut up, and then they'd go out and eat somewhere together without saying much of anything about it, unless Aki was determined to make himself completely obnoxious.

Which he often did. At Shinjiro's expense.

But again, he's a moron.]

...You didn't need to get me anything.

[She knows that bench well, and follows him to it. She sits close to him immediately because with no one else around, there's no point pretending she doesn't want to.]

But I wanted to. I like giving presents.

[Knowing how awkward he gets around them is the only thing that's kept her from giving him random gifts every time they go out on the weekend. She'd do it for her other friends, back home.]

And I don't think this is something you can refuse. [with that, she presses a small wrapped box into his hands.]

Edited 2013-08-19 02:55 (UTC)

[He's glad she doesn't, even if he can understand wanting to. He remembers the way Miki's face lit up every time they brought her home something—Christmas, especially—even if its worth wasn't much at all. It's easy to want to give the people you care about things, because there's always some underlying visceral enjoyment just seeing them happy. But he's not a kid anymore—one year away and people will start pretending he's an adult on paper (then he can start brooding in the corners of shady bars instead of questionable alleyways as his newest hiding place). He doesn't need gifts to reinforce the idea he means something to someone. He's pretty sure his room alone topped off his personal gift quota for the next two years. She's covered.]

I know you do.

[He's also not sure he's technically qualified to refuse much of anything anymore. He feels the weight of the small box in his hand, shoots her a quiet, furtive glance a second long, and starts to carefully unwrap the box, opening it at its seams and folds. He all ready has a good idea what it is—the weight is familiar—but it's only when the wrapping paper as been pulled away and the box opened that his shoulders relax and he feels an abrupt sense of relief. (He also feels foolish, looking for something, when he knew where it had been all along). You shouldn't feel so anxious over an old pocket watch. He's better than that. He should be able to grow up and leave old pieces of his past behind.

The pocket watch looks different now. More like it used to and less like it did. It doesn't bear the same trauma it had been carrying from the forth. He clicks the face open—no longer worried that he might break it—sees clears class and and easily readable face. It actually tells time properly now. He thinks he can hear it tick more steadily than its labored, struggling beats had been not so long ago.

His face softens, and there's a certain fondness to his stare as he watches the second-hand tick around the watch face before carefully closing it it. He never liked seeing it broken.]

You… didn't have to fix it.

No, but I wanted to.

[Of course, she has a cheeky reply. She was just glad that it turned out looking as well as it did. The bullet really had done a number on the case. It was a miracle it had still been ticking at all.]

It's been almost a year, and I thought it deserved to run properly again. I'm sorry I made you worry about it, though. The shop had to keep it overnight.

It's fine. Thought you might've...

[Taken it.

He runs a thumb carefully over the watch case. He's also surprised the watch looks as good as it does. The case had took the brunt of of the bullet, but he had no idea what had done to its insides—to the fragile clockwork pieces that kept it running. He'd always imagine it'd stop on him one day. It probably shouldn't have been running to begin with.

He's... not sure what to say. His gut reaction is to tell her she shouldn't have spent her money on something so old and obviously broken. No matter how much sentimentality it held for him, it was only a watch. He knows how much it costs each half decade just to ensure the watch still runs properly—to take it apart, clean, oil, and wind it. Scrub away any rust that had impeded the time-keeping process. But to replace the glass fix the case, smooth away the scars on the marred the outside, and then move on inward to repair the damage you couldn't see without looking deeper, the damage that was slowly killing it, was something he hadn't even tried estimating.

It's just a watch. He tries to tell himself that. It's nothing that would kill him to lose.

Just... part of him still feels like he would.

And, like almost a year ago, there's still a sense of relief to have it in his hand again.

So maybe those kinds of words aren't right.

He leans back against the bench, leaning slightly in to where the living warmth is. Goes quiet for a second or two.]

...I got it from one of the orphanage workers when I was young. [Was he seven then? Eight? It was a long time ago. Counting those days and hours are harder.] She said it was my dad's. Never found out if it was true or not, but it's not a bad lie to tell a kid, if you're gonna tell them anything about their parents.

I don't think if it's true or not really matters.

[She reaches over and covers the hand holding the watch, squeezing gently.] You gave it meaning, so now it's important to you.

Probably not.

[Though it would be nice if he knew. Somehow. Even if you were the one that gave meaning to what was important to you, because then it would be a clue as to what type of person he was.]

Guess I owe you twice now, huh?

[he's the type of person who gets sentimental over old watches and then tries to hide it.]

If you want to owe me, I won't say no! But I'd call this more of a thank-you to the watch. [For saving his life.]

[He owes her enough as it is. Another debt probably wouldn't matter.

He has to hold back a small laugh.]

Don't think the watch had much choice.

[He's sure it would be grateful if it had the capacity to, however.]

Edited 2013-08-22 07:19 (UTC)

All the more reason to thank it!

[She falls quiet momentarily, leaning her head against his shoulder.] It really is hard to believe it's been a year. Summer's already almost over.

[Huh. It is, isn't it? Summer's about gone and it's almost September again. It isn't quite as humid, and the heat is finally receding and bowing to cooler weather. Sometimes he forgets it's August until he stares at the calendar and remembers (frowning) that he still has to get up for classes the next morning.

That isn't something he's been used to worrying about.

A smile tugs at his lips, and it manages to stay for longer than the thought that had created it.]

Almost.

[Give it another couple weeks. September 1st. He hadn't thought he'd be around for a year. Now he has good watch to count the minutes by.

He gently threads his fingers around hers—difficult with the watch in the in-between, but he's not inclined to pull away. Or do much moving really. He's always liked it here.]

Not gonna drag me back to the dorm now, are you?

I don't know, are you going to give me a reason to?

[She stretches out her legs in front of her.] It's too nice of a day to go inside already.

[His eyebrows lift in mock incredulousness, laughs, and shakes his head. Perish the thought. Put it under a guillotine and sever it.]

Hell no.

[Last thing he needs is Miki ganging up on him, too. He doesn't stand much of a chance after that. She's just as unabashed and shameless.]

Last thing you need is incentive.

[She's driven enough, without cause driving her forward and giving her a motive.]

Edited 2013-08-25 05:53 (UTC)

Well, good then.

[she smiles brightly.] I'll just find one myself when I need one though.

[The dryly amused sideways glance she receives in response suggests that Shinjiro's never really doubted it. He's learned better than that. She doesn't need encouragement from him (he'll leave the enabling for other people more social than he is) so much as tolerance. That, at least, is something he can do. Tolerate whatever she decides to come up with and drag him into, even if some of them makes him want to dig in his heels and draw the line somewhere in the sand (though there's an invisible one somewhere that he's sure she occasionally enjoys flirting with on occasion, just to see how far she can playfully toe the line).

Sometimes he wonders if she's too bright for someone like him—or rather, that he's not bright enough for someone like her, being so ingrained towards the pessimistic sort of realism. He enjoys quiet moments like this, likes being here in a way that's hard to put into words, especially when enjoyment used to be much harder to come by, but a part of him still doesn't expect it to last very long. Because nothing ever really has.

Nevertheless, a small, fond smile still manages to crack its way through, and he glances down to where the watch is before kissing Minako's forehead.]

Thank you.

[For a lot of things.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Every year, at this time / I'd look over at some friend of mine

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject