Categories > Anime/Manga > Yu-Gi-Oh!
Plastic Chair
1 reviewWhen Ryou is too tired to walk another step, Honda is there to carry him and his burdens. Oneshot, fluff, light Honda x Ryou if you squint.
2Moving
I don't own Yuugiou.
Rated PG for very slight language.
I've never written this pairing before, so I'd really appreciate comments on the characterization. Constructive criticism is very welcome.
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"Tell me again why you're lugging a lawn chair all over town?" Honda asks, raising an eyebrow at Ryou, who has set the plastic chair down on the sidewalk and flopped into it, panting as he catches his breath.
"In case I get tired," Ryou answers shortly, too busy breathing to say any more.
"That's what taxicabs are for."
"I don't like taxicabs."
"What you mean is, you don't like taxicabs because they put your alter ego in close proximity to people he might get mad at and kill, am I right?" Honda is trying to understand; truly, he is.
Ryou winces; doesn't look at him. Oops, wrong thing to say. Honda's not too good at saying the right thing. He has a chronic case of Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome.
Sometimes he just wants to tell Ryou to grow up and stop pretending there's a dark smear on his soul, stop being such an attention whore, stop telling people "My yami did it," and just let the blame fall where it should: on his own head.
Honda wishes he could tell Ryou all of that without sounding like an insensitive jackass.
Instead, he says nothing, and leans against a light pole to watch the flood of people people people in neon and satin, in leather and lace. They are going to dance clubs, where he and Ryou should be going, but Ryou's too tired to walk any further.
Honda's feet are starting to hurt from all the standing and waiting around for this poor weak boy, who must stop every little while to rest in his dented plastic chair.
"Get up," he orders Ryou. "I'll carry you." His feet will be throbbing by the time they get to the club, but at least they might make it in time to meet Yuugi and Anzu.
Ryou slowly gets to his feet and holds out his arms to Honda, looking like a small child who's lost and frightened. Honda squats down and lets Ryou climb onto his back. Getting his arms under Ryou's knees, he rises and starts to walk.
Ryou looks back at the chair. "What about the--"
"Leave it. I'll buy you another." Honda is not going to carry a chair along with a boy. No way, no how. Not happening.
Ryou swallows hard. "I've had that chair forever. Can't we--" He stops, and Honda can hear the tears about to break free.
And Honda turns around, walks back to the stupid chair, and somehow gets it into his hands so he can hand it to Ryou, who holds it carefully in front of Honda's chest. He thinks he must be one of the odder folk out on the streets tonight. A boy with another boy on his back, and a plastic chair dangling in front of him like some crazy necklace.
The only reason he's doing it is because maybe this is what will make it click in Ryou's mind that not everyone hates him. Not everyone wants him to go away and die.
Honda, for instance, would do anything to make Ryou stop looking like he's about to cry. Even if he has to carry an old chair around his neck to prove it.
Rated PG for very slight language.
I've never written this pairing before, so I'd really appreciate comments on the characterization. Constructive criticism is very welcome.
-
"Tell me again why you're lugging a lawn chair all over town?" Honda asks, raising an eyebrow at Ryou, who has set the plastic chair down on the sidewalk and flopped into it, panting as he catches his breath.
"In case I get tired," Ryou answers shortly, too busy breathing to say any more.
"That's what taxicabs are for."
"I don't like taxicabs."
"What you mean is, you don't like taxicabs because they put your alter ego in close proximity to people he might get mad at and kill, am I right?" Honda is trying to understand; truly, he is.
Ryou winces; doesn't look at him. Oops, wrong thing to say. Honda's not too good at saying the right thing. He has a chronic case of Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome.
Sometimes he just wants to tell Ryou to grow up and stop pretending there's a dark smear on his soul, stop being such an attention whore, stop telling people "My yami did it," and just let the blame fall where it should: on his own head.
Honda wishes he could tell Ryou all of that without sounding like an insensitive jackass.
Instead, he says nothing, and leans against a light pole to watch the flood of people people people in neon and satin, in leather and lace. They are going to dance clubs, where he and Ryou should be going, but Ryou's too tired to walk any further.
Honda's feet are starting to hurt from all the standing and waiting around for this poor weak boy, who must stop every little while to rest in his dented plastic chair.
"Get up," he orders Ryou. "I'll carry you." His feet will be throbbing by the time they get to the club, but at least they might make it in time to meet Yuugi and Anzu.
Ryou slowly gets to his feet and holds out his arms to Honda, looking like a small child who's lost and frightened. Honda squats down and lets Ryou climb onto his back. Getting his arms under Ryou's knees, he rises and starts to walk.
Ryou looks back at the chair. "What about the--"
"Leave it. I'll buy you another." Honda is not going to carry a chair along with a boy. No way, no how. Not happening.
Ryou swallows hard. "I've had that chair forever. Can't we--" He stops, and Honda can hear the tears about to break free.
And Honda turns around, walks back to the stupid chair, and somehow gets it into his hands so he can hand it to Ryou, who holds it carefully in front of Honda's chest. He thinks he must be one of the odder folk out on the streets tonight. A boy with another boy on his back, and a plastic chair dangling in front of him like some crazy necklace.
The only reason he's doing it is because maybe this is what will make it click in Ryou's mind that not everyone hates him. Not everyone wants him to go away and die.
Honda, for instance, would do anything to make Ryou stop looking like he's about to cry. Even if he has to carry an old chair around his neck to prove it.
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