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writetomyheart2020-05-26 07:28 am
faded-lace.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2020-05-26 07:28 am
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[Team three] Untitled
I'm sorry for the late post! This was inspired by HiHi Jets' first remote YouTube video posted on Sunday, and also by Mizuki talking about watching Terrace House on Jweb XD
So much for that conversation, then, Mizuki thinks as the sound of even breathing replaces the comfortable silence that had been hanging in the air over the phone. He supposes that it's not too surprising, considering how far off all of their group's sleep schedules have gotten since they've been stuck inside for the past two months, himself included, but he's still a little exasperated that Hashimoto seems to have fallen asleep in the middle of their phone call. It's not exactly that they'd been talking about anything particularly deep or meaningful; in fact, they'd been on the phone for around 7 hours, through multiple ebbs and flows of the conversation as they both did the various things they did with their time anymore-- for Mizuki, mostly watching dramas and reality TV on Netflix while Hashimoto played video games and cooked and worked out-- but considering they couldn't see one another in person anymore, it wasn't so weird. Or at least, that's what Mizuki liked to tell himself, considering that he really didn't want to be the sort of person who stayed on day-long phone calls with his boyfriend, but at the same time, having being quarantined for 2 months meant that he hadn't seen Hashimoto in person for longer than literally ever before since they were eight years old, so he thinks he deserves some slack in terms of embarrassing dating habits.
And he supposes he can't really fault Hashimoto for falling asleep, either, considering that it's going on 3 am-- it would really be a stretch to say that Hashimoto was a bad boyfriend for it, considering that he was always the one to call Mizuki each day, claiming in that stupid flashy way of his, I just wanted to hear your voice!, somehow totally unashamed of being an embarrassingly mushy romantic all the time, and he was always the one who begged Mizuki not to hang up, just ten more minutes... just five more minutes... I promise this time! Mizuki has always put on a show of rolling his eyes and acting annoyed because in reality he doesn't know how to take Hashimoto's pure, unadulterated love and affection, but honestly, now that it's just the two of them, over Skype or LINE call or Google or whatever platform is most convenient in the moment, he's finding it easier just to let him do what he does without the pretense of not liking it.
And while it's been difficult to stay cooped up-- Mizuki lives for his work, after all-- and difficult to deal with the anxiety of not being able to practice skating and dancing and the fear that his skills will diminish before he gets back on the stage and difficult to spend each day not knowing when he'll be able to see his groupmates and his friends and his boyfriend in person again, somehow, in the safe space of a voice call between just the two of them, everything, at least in terms of their relationship, feels easier. Each day, somehow, the embarrassment fades a little, the inexplicable need to hide behind false protests grows less keen; somehow, I love you, too slips past his lips more and more easily each day. It's not a whole lot (and maybe, Mizuki thinks, things will go right back to how they were the next time they're together in person, for all he knows) but maybe, for right now, it's enough to keep him sane even after what feels like the thousandth episode of Terrace House or the sixth time through Hidarime Tantei in a two-week period.
Now that Hashimoto has fallen asleep, though, he ought to hang up, Mizuki thinks; frankly, he ought to go to bed himself considering the time. But even asleep, the gentle sound of his breathing just barely being picked up by the phone, something about knowing he's there is calming, reassuring, and gross and mushy as it is, Mizuki can't bring himself to. He knows Hashimoto wouldn't be upset with him if he were to hang up and text a quick "good night," it's not like they won't talk again tomorrow, but it just feels wrong. And so he leaves the call active for another fifteen minutes or so as he finishes up the episode that he was on and then another twenty or so as he goes through his evening face care routine before finally, he's ready to get in bed. He stalls for another few minutes by turning out the lights and getting into bed, but finally, after he's plugged in his phone and set it next to his pillow, he can't think of any more excuses.
"Hey," he says quietly after a moment, waiting for any acknowledgement, only to be met with more even breathing. "Hey," he tries again, but again, nothing-- he has a feeling that if he spoke a little louder, he'd have better results, but it's hard to work up the will to speak louder when Hashimoto sounds so peaceful...
But he can't exactly stay on his phone all night, and so, "Oi, I'm hanging up," he says, trying to rip off the bandage, so to speak.
But just as he's about to press the "end call" button, he hears a change in Hashimoto's breathing, and then a short groan, as if he's beginning to rouse. Mizuki feels a little guilty for waking him, but hesitates; if Hashimoto is going to wake up, then he'll say good night properly. But instead, Hashimoto only makes a few more short noises along with a rustling in the background, as if he's moving around, before mumbling something that Mizuki can't quite make out.
"I can't tell what you're saying, stupid," he says affectionately, rolling his eyes but at the same time hypocritically unable to bring himself to end the call.
"Nn..." Hashimoto mumbles again, and Mizuki is about to write it off as talking in his sleep and hang up anyway when finally, he manages to get out, "Don't go yet..."
And maybe he's never going to be able to get back onto a regular sleep schedule, and his health will go to shit once this quarantine finally ends, but, Mizuki thinks, to hell with it... another episode of Terrace House or two won't kill him.
Your turn,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ext_4265261!
So much for that conversation, then, Mizuki thinks as the sound of even breathing replaces the comfortable silence that had been hanging in the air over the phone. He supposes that it's not too surprising, considering how far off all of their group's sleep schedules have gotten since they've been stuck inside for the past two months, himself included, but he's still a little exasperated that Hashimoto seems to have fallen asleep in the middle of their phone call. It's not exactly that they'd been talking about anything particularly deep or meaningful; in fact, they'd been on the phone for around 7 hours, through multiple ebbs and flows of the conversation as they both did the various things they did with their time anymore-- for Mizuki, mostly watching dramas and reality TV on Netflix while Hashimoto played video games and cooked and worked out-- but considering they couldn't see one another in person anymore, it wasn't so weird. Or at least, that's what Mizuki liked to tell himself, considering that he really didn't want to be the sort of person who stayed on day-long phone calls with his boyfriend, but at the same time, having being quarantined for 2 months meant that he hadn't seen Hashimoto in person for longer than literally ever before since they were eight years old, so he thinks he deserves some slack in terms of embarrassing dating habits.
And he supposes he can't really fault Hashimoto for falling asleep, either, considering that it's going on 3 am-- it would really be a stretch to say that Hashimoto was a bad boyfriend for it, considering that he was always the one to call Mizuki each day, claiming in that stupid flashy way of his, I just wanted to hear your voice!, somehow totally unashamed of being an embarrassingly mushy romantic all the time, and he was always the one who begged Mizuki not to hang up, just ten more minutes... just five more minutes... I promise this time! Mizuki has always put on a show of rolling his eyes and acting annoyed because in reality he doesn't know how to take Hashimoto's pure, unadulterated love and affection, but honestly, now that it's just the two of them, over Skype or LINE call or Google or whatever platform is most convenient in the moment, he's finding it easier just to let him do what he does without the pretense of not liking it.
And while it's been difficult to stay cooped up-- Mizuki lives for his work, after all-- and difficult to deal with the anxiety of not being able to practice skating and dancing and the fear that his skills will diminish before he gets back on the stage and difficult to spend each day not knowing when he'll be able to see his groupmates and his friends and his boyfriend in person again, somehow, in the safe space of a voice call between just the two of them, everything, at least in terms of their relationship, feels easier. Each day, somehow, the embarrassment fades a little, the inexplicable need to hide behind false protests grows less keen; somehow, I love you, too slips past his lips more and more easily each day. It's not a whole lot (and maybe, Mizuki thinks, things will go right back to how they were the next time they're together in person, for all he knows) but maybe, for right now, it's enough to keep him sane even after what feels like the thousandth episode of Terrace House or the sixth time through Hidarime Tantei in a two-week period.
Now that Hashimoto has fallen asleep, though, he ought to hang up, Mizuki thinks; frankly, he ought to go to bed himself considering the time. But even asleep, the gentle sound of his breathing just barely being picked up by the phone, something about knowing he's there is calming, reassuring, and gross and mushy as it is, Mizuki can't bring himself to. He knows Hashimoto wouldn't be upset with him if he were to hang up and text a quick "good night," it's not like they won't talk again tomorrow, but it just feels wrong. And so he leaves the call active for another fifteen minutes or so as he finishes up the episode that he was on and then another twenty or so as he goes through his evening face care routine before finally, he's ready to get in bed. He stalls for another few minutes by turning out the lights and getting into bed, but finally, after he's plugged in his phone and set it next to his pillow, he can't think of any more excuses.
"Hey," he says quietly after a moment, waiting for any acknowledgement, only to be met with more even breathing. "Hey," he tries again, but again, nothing-- he has a feeling that if he spoke a little louder, he'd have better results, but it's hard to work up the will to speak louder when Hashimoto sounds so peaceful...
But he can't exactly stay on his phone all night, and so, "Oi, I'm hanging up," he says, trying to rip off the bandage, so to speak.
But just as he's about to press the "end call" button, he hears a change in Hashimoto's breathing, and then a short groan, as if he's beginning to rouse. Mizuki feels a little guilty for waking him, but hesitates; if Hashimoto is going to wake up, then he'll say good night properly. But instead, Hashimoto only makes a few more short noises along with a rustling in the background, as if he's moving around, before mumbling something that Mizuki can't quite make out.
"I can't tell what you're saying, stupid," he says affectionately, rolling his eyes but at the same time hypocritically unable to bring himself to end the call.
"Nn..." Hashimoto mumbles again, and Mizuki is about to write it off as talking in his sleep and hang up anyway when finally, he manages to get out, "Don't go yet..."
And maybe he's never going to be able to get back onto a regular sleep schedule, and his health will go to shit once this quarantine finally ends, but, Mizuki thinks, to hell with it... another episode of Terrace House or two won't kill him.
Your turn,
ext_4265261!