Categories > Anime/Manga > Pet Shop of Horrors > For Whom the Bell Tolls
The doorbell's ringing.
Leon's sitting at the table, nursing a hangover and a glass of water, in a shitty two room apartment in a country where no one speaks english.
The doorbell's ringing.
It takes a while to actually sink in, despite the buzzing and pounding it kicks off in his head. He can't be bothered answering it. His head hurts too badly, and it's probably only the landlord. He's the only one who seems to remember Leon's alive. Even the guys who give him work seem to forget he exists. Well if it's the landlord he can go fuck himself: Leon's paid his rent, and he didn't remember kicking up that much of a fuss on the way in last night.
But the doorbell's ringing.
It hurts his head. He shouldn't be up, he should be lying in bed with the pillow over his head and aspirin. No luck - he doesn't have any and doesn't know where to buy it. That and it's depressing.
Whoever's after him is persistent.
The doorbell's still ringing.
If he closes his eyes and put his head down on his folded arms, he can almost pretend he's back in LA, in a different shitty apartment with more than two rooms, a ton of crap on the floor, and girly posters on the wall. In LA, at this time, it'd probably be D, Chris in tow, face like thunder, getting more and more pissed at being ignored because he'd know damn well Leon was in there - he always did, damn him - and if he didn't get an answer he'd call out, then barge straight in with a hissy fit, usually starting with -
"Detective, you could at least pretend to be civilised and open the door?"
For a minute, Leon isn't sure if he'd heard it or imagined it. A little imagination could be a very powerful thing - you didn't spend that long around D and four tons of porn without learning that. But if he's managed to convince himself that D was standing on his doorstep after all this time then he really has gone mad.
The doorbell's ringing.
The buzzes are getting longer, like whoever it is trying to stop themselves just leaning on the button.
That's what finally gets Leon moving: the thought that whoever it is might break the damn thing. Not any half-assed dream that it might be D, finally relenting, but for the reason that he can't afford to replace the damn bell.
The doorbell's still ringing.
Leon goes to answer it. He leans his head on the door before he opens it, and for a second he thinks he can almost smell the incense. He turns the key. Drags the bolt back.
Hesitates.
The doorbell stops ringing.
Leon's sitting at the table, nursing a hangover and a glass of water, in a shitty two room apartment in a country where no one speaks english.
The doorbell's ringing.
It takes a while to actually sink in, despite the buzzing and pounding it kicks off in his head. He can't be bothered answering it. His head hurts too badly, and it's probably only the landlord. He's the only one who seems to remember Leon's alive. Even the guys who give him work seem to forget he exists. Well if it's the landlord he can go fuck himself: Leon's paid his rent, and he didn't remember kicking up that much of a fuss on the way in last night.
But the doorbell's ringing.
It hurts his head. He shouldn't be up, he should be lying in bed with the pillow over his head and aspirin. No luck - he doesn't have any and doesn't know where to buy it. That and it's depressing.
Whoever's after him is persistent.
The doorbell's still ringing.
If he closes his eyes and put his head down on his folded arms, he can almost pretend he's back in LA, in a different shitty apartment with more than two rooms, a ton of crap on the floor, and girly posters on the wall. In LA, at this time, it'd probably be D, Chris in tow, face like thunder, getting more and more pissed at being ignored because he'd know damn well Leon was in there - he always did, damn him - and if he didn't get an answer he'd call out, then barge straight in with a hissy fit, usually starting with -
"Detective, you could at least pretend to be civilised and open the door?"
For a minute, Leon isn't sure if he'd heard it or imagined it. A little imagination could be a very powerful thing - you didn't spend that long around D and four tons of porn without learning that. But if he's managed to convince himself that D was standing on his doorstep after all this time then he really has gone mad.
The doorbell's ringing.
The buzzes are getting longer, like whoever it is trying to stop themselves just leaning on the button.
That's what finally gets Leon moving: the thought that whoever it is might break the damn thing. Not any half-assed dream that it might be D, finally relenting, but for the reason that he can't afford to replace the damn bell.
The doorbell's still ringing.
Leon goes to answer it. He leans his head on the door before he opens it, and for a second he thinks he can almost smell the incense. He turns the key. Drags the bolt back.
Hesitates.
The doorbell stops ringing.
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