The sun shining off the abomination of a package makes Makishima squint when he sees it. It’s still there, even after he closes his eyes and opens them again, shining and blinding and looking too large for Onoda’s hands.
“Toudou-san said I had to deliver it right away!” Onoda chirps and Makishima glares. He doesn’t want to glare at Onoda, but he needs to glare somewhere and Toudou isn’t here.
“It’s fine, just give it to me.” He says and takes the package before Onoda has the chance to move. Onoda scurries away and Makishima spares him an apologetic glance. Hopefully he hadn’t been too rude, but it’s always so hard to tell.
The label, if possible, is more obnoxious than the foil, and the note scrawls halfway across the top of the box in Jinpachi’s handwriting. ”In anniversary for the time you beat me in a race and stole my heart!!! <3 <3 <3 --Toudou Jinpachi” Makishima drops the package like it’s on fire, letting it slam too hard against the table top.
Maybe that was overboard, he reflects, but carefully avoids touching the written words as he opens the side. It’s really badly wrapped, he reflects, and Makishima is surprised. For someone so neat and conservative in his fashion, he’s remarkably bad at gift wrapping and aesthetics. The first side comes untaped, and there is more wrinkled foil bunched beneath the folds, so much that by the time the entire package is unwrapped Makishima has nearly cut himself a dozen times on its edges.
At first he isn’t sure what he’s looking at, nestled in the box half full of packing peanuts. Is that a stuffed animal? Is it a real animal? God he hopes not. Surely even Toudou wouldn’t be that stupid. But no, it’s not alive, but when he touches it it is soft.
Disentangling its many black legs from the packing peanuts, Makishima pulls out what appears to be a stuffed spider, and, taped to its head, a second note.
“Maki-chan,
I remember the first time I saw you climb Eyes on the horizon Legs moving like a creepy crawly spider And I thought Oh, he’s lovely. And you’re lovely still A year later and I hope this finds you well And makes you smile.
-Forever Yours, Jinpachi”
Makishima folds the note, poorly written poetry included, more carefully than he probably needs to, and sits down on the nearest chair. He takes a deep breath and laughs, louder than he ever remembers laughing before.
FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, Rated G
433 words
The sun shining off the abomination of a package makes Makishima squint when he sees it. It’s still there, even after he closes his eyes and opens them again, shining and blinding and looking too large for Onoda’s hands.
“Toudou-san said I had to deliver it right away!” Onoda chirps and Makishima glares. He doesn’t want to glare at Onoda, but he needs to glare somewhere and Toudou isn’t here.
“It’s fine, just give it to me.” He says and takes the package before Onoda has the chance to move. Onoda scurries away and Makishima spares him an apologetic glance. Hopefully he hadn’t been too rude, but it’s always so hard to tell.
The label, if possible, is more obnoxious than the foil, and the note scrawls halfway across the top of the box in Jinpachi’s handwriting. ”In anniversary for the time you beat me in a race and stole my heart!!! <3 <3 <3 --Toudou Jinpachi” Makishima drops the package like it’s on fire, letting it slam too hard against the table top.
Maybe that was overboard, he reflects, but carefully avoids touching the written words as he opens the side. It’s really badly wrapped, he reflects, and Makishima is surprised. For someone so neat and conservative in his fashion, he’s remarkably bad at gift wrapping and aesthetics. The first side comes untaped, and there is more wrinkled foil bunched beneath the folds, so much that by the time the entire package is unwrapped Makishima has nearly cut himself a dozen times on its edges.
At first he isn’t sure what he’s looking at, nestled in the box half full of packing peanuts. Is that a stuffed animal? Is it a real animal? God he hopes not. Surely even Toudou wouldn’t be that stupid. But no, it’s not alive, but when he touches it it is soft.
Disentangling its many black legs from the packing peanuts, Makishima pulls out what appears to be a stuffed spider, and, taped to its head, a second note.
“Maki-chan,
I remember the first time I saw you climb
Eyes on the horizon
Legs moving like a creepy crawly spider
And I thought
Oh, he’s lovely.
And you’re lovely still
A year later and I hope this finds you well
And makes you smile.
-Forever Yours, Jinpachi”
Makishima folds the note, poorly written poetry included, more carefully than he probably needs to, and sits down on the nearest chair. He takes a deep breath and laughs, louder than he ever remembers laughing before.