[ open ] birthday time!

[picky]

WHO: Marcille, Ryoji, and YOU!
WHAT: A party for the April (and May) birthdays!
WHERE: LILICO Game Center in Akihabara
WHEN: April 20th
WARNINGS: TBA

No matter who you are, you receive a text early in the morning from Ryoji (memors):

Good morning! Did you know it's a special someone's birthday today? Actually, we have several birthdays to celebrate, so join us today at the LILICO Game Center! There will be cake! Lots and *lots* of cake. Hope to see you there!

This is an open log, so feel free to tag out or top level or respond to the prompts below. Have fun!

Comments

[gimu]

[ the slice never stood a chance. it yields under choso’s grip like a perfect sponge, fluffy and light as a cloud and about as sturdy as one; as his grip tightens into a fist, the strawberries layered into the shortcake spurt out between his fingers, followed by the slower drip of delicate cream like the ponderous march of magma.

the colour overtakes his whole face. ]

I— you—!

[ listen to him sputter, Toji, hands clenching and unclenching like he’s still in review on what exactly to do with them now that murder isn’t allowed to be on the table. cake bits rain to the floor in spongey confetti chunks.

he has never been so [REDACTED] in his life. ]

It’s unclean! I would not!

[ nuh uh, yuh huh, et al. ]

[assassinsgreed]

<sub>[ apparently, these two idiots can’t get out of their roles and in a public area of all places..

The poor cake is demolished, crushed, devoured.. after Choso has taken so much care into cutting it into a perfect piece. It’s such an amusing display, Toji can’t help but walk up to him a little closer and put his arm around him. Pals. [REDACTED]buddies. His voice lowers even further as he seems to be.. leading Choso in another direction. ]</sub>

Eating it with your bare hands just now.. like a wild animal. Do you even know how to act in public?

[gimu]

[ right now would be a great time to do something else, like wipe the cake mash from his hand and mouth, or get another cake, or do anything that isn't staring up at Toji with an expression that isn't sure if it wants to be angry or embarrassed or just agog.

luckily for him, Toji is kind enough to lead him away from the scene of the crime. (all the cake bits on the floor. all of it) ]

What do you know of acting in public, hah? If I'm the animal, what does that make you?

[assassinsgreed]

I know how to be more civilized than you. You don't see me eating cake with my bare hands.

_{[ He's walking, and walking, going through a door and stepping out into the street. ]}

Guess that means I'm something above you. Something smarter than you. A trainer, maybe? Or a master.

_{[ Once they're in a designated smoking area, that's when he slides his arm off of Choso and leans back against one of the building walls, looking him over. ]}

Maybe you're smarter than I give you credit for, though. What do you think?

1/3

[gimu]

You don't see me stealing cake from innocent bystanders.

[ it isn't until they step outside that choso realizes how heavy the lights had been, the noise, the chatter the murmur the buzz the smell the sights the sheer annoyance of all that cake and only half a fistful made it into him in the first place. outside, he takes in the street, the road yawning each way, attention cast out like a net as far as his eye can see before Toji speaks again, demanding he reel enough of him back in to keep proper mind. ]

Smarter than? Don't underestimate me, you.

2/3

[gimu]

[ with all this damn mess on his fingers, choso can't clam up and cross his arms like he's wont to do, so his hands flex unconsciously when he considers the terms Toji bandies about as they walk, picks them up and weighs them like stones in a riverbed. trainer for an animal, or a master for,

for ]

[gimu]

I think there is much still to learn.

[ heat in his face, colour in his ears, a furrow to the brow. but his back is straight, shoulders broad set, his gaze straightforward and frank as he meets Toji's own. ]

But first, I think you should clean up your messes.

[ a cake-y hand lifts, with the same air of a monarch offering a bejeweled ring finger. (a piece of strawberry and cream does linger on his knuckles in similar fashion) ]

1/2

[assassinsgreed]

_{[ Slowly, Toji's gaze travels from Choso's dead looking fish eyes to the hand motion, the icing on his fingers, followed by a command ... and ... ]}

2/2

[assassinsgreed]

_{[ ... barks some loud, clear laughter. It sounds genuine, it does, because all of this is just so ridiculous to him. Choso is ridiculous. ]}

You're not dirty enough for me to clean you up. Clean it up yourself. Lick it off like the creature that you are.

<sub>[ With that, Toji reaches into his pockets and, yes, it looks like he is lighting up a cigarette. He's not a big smoker, but it was something fun and numbing to do every now and then. He definitely had his share of them when Shiu was around.

As he speaks, the cigarette bobs between his lips. ]</sub>

The only thing I'll ever clean off of you is blood, sweat and semen.

[gimu]

[ it surprises him, Toji’s laughter. it kicks the legs out from under choso’s annoyance, snuffs whatever sparks of anger or irritation may have flickered to life.

it is the realest thing he has heard come out of this man since they began to spend time together, and for a moment he can’t look anywhere else. choso, absurd, ridiculous creature choso, he watches Toji light up like he’s never seen the like before, eyes fixed on the poetry of fingers and filters and the pad of a thumb flicking the lighter to life.

it sounds loud to his own ears when he sucks in a breath. shakes himself out.

pay attention, choso, there’s cake to take care of. ]

Those are even dirtier than sponge cake. Your definition of ‘dirty’ is upside down.

[ with a snort, he draws his hand back in, finally looking away from the cigarette between Toji’s lips to bend his head and clean his own damn cake away. (he laps at it, careful little licks like some fastidious little animal, wrist turning to accommodate as his tongue flicks between iced-up fingers) ]

Sounds like a trainer, only bothering with the filth. A lazy, thieving trainer.

[assassinsgreed]

<sub>[ Meanwhile, as Toji’s laugh trickles off into a rumbling chuckle, he’s completely unaware just how intently the other man is watching him.

Cigarette now lit, he puffs a bit of smoke in Choso’s direction, aiming right near his hand and lips that are busy cleaning. ]</sub>

Here’s the thing. You can tell me what to do, but it’s up to me how it’s going to go. Understand?

_{[ a beat.. ]}

Have you smoked before?

[gimu]

[ evidently not, if the way choso’s nose wrinkles up is any indication. the fleming response is strong in this one.

stink! stinky!!! ]

Never.

[ for all that his face looks like his biggest snarl ever, his tone is mild, licking his lips and knuckle with a huff and a snort through his nose. ]

It smells. Is it that enjoyable?

[assassinsgreed]

_{[ … What an expression. ]}

One way to find out.

_{[ with that, he removes the cigarette from his lips but keeps it grasped between two fingers, his other hand beckoning Choso a little closer. Come on. Try the stinky thing. ]}

Someone I used to know smoked a lot. I don’t do it a lot, but I guess sometimes it’s fun to think back on smoking with him.

_{[ … oh. ]}

1/

[gimu]

[ only one way to find out.

despite the smell and the delicate acrid burn in his nostrils, choso still steps forth, reaching out with his uncaked hand to carefully take the little cigarette in (what feels like) bigger clumsier fingers. he handles it as if it were a tiny stick of dynamite, fitting it with such meticulous motions between his lips, as he’d seen Toji do it. ]

2/

[gimu]

[ tastes like, well, smoke. a vague hint of mint, and the even more vague notes of strawberry, cream, vanilla. a taste of Toji.

choso takes a good solid breath In. ]

3/

[gimu]

[ and coughs it out fivefold. ]

4/4

[gimu]

[ sorry, sevenfold. it keeps going. the burn of the thing sears itself into his mucus membranes, paints itself over his tongue and for a hectic, hacking moment, choso can’t see worth shit, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but cOUGH hard enough to wrack his shoulders and set his odango to shaking, like shrubbery in high winds.

when he’s caught some semblance of breath, choso clutches the deathstick tightly, almost scrunching it between his fingers as he turns watery, stinging eyes up at the meatwall with an almost accusatory look. ]

He had such terrible tastebuds. You have horrible tastebuds. That was horrible.

[assassinsgreed]

_{[ Toji doesn’t expect Choso to like it, but who knows. The half curse has surprised him before. While Choso starts choking, Toji laughs lightly again. Why has he been laughing so much lately? It’s hard to say, but Toji hasn’t really noticed it about himself. ]}

Don’t like it? Wanna see a fun game you can play with it?

[gimu]

[ at the question “don’t like it?”, choso shakes his head vigorously, but has yet to let go of the damn cigarette.

the second half has him looking up at Toji expectantly, a brow lofted and only one eye tearing up, threatening to drop a whole fat tear down his cough-red face. ]

What kind of game?

[assassinsgreed]

_{[ you alright there, weird kid ... ]}

I think you might like it.

_{[ a pause, then: ]}

It involves kissing me.

[gimu]

[ choso nods, serious and somber as can be. the lit cigarette smoulders delicately in his awkward paw. ]

I’m in.

[assassinsgreed]

_{[ With such determination in his eyes, one would think they were about to fight. Toji reaches for the cigarette. ]}

But it also involves smoking too.

_{[ he could have mentioned that before Choso agreed, but too late for that now. ]}

Let me show you.

[gimu]

[ he had suspected that the smelly thing was involved, but hearing Toji confirm it just wrinkles choso’s nose further. he passes the thing back nevertheless. ]

Very well. I am prepared.

[ is this a kiss or a challenge… ]

[assassinsgreed]

We will see about that.

<sub>[ Toji takes back the cigarette and regards Choso with a small smile. Yes, he certainly seems a little more happier than Choso might remember him.

Choso probably remembers the motions of his body being much more fierce, but he settles his free hand on Choso’s waist, encouraging him a little closer. ]</sub>

We breathe the smoke back and forth to one another. Whoever loses the smoke is the, aaaa, loser, I guess.

_{[ With that, he takes an inhale, nice and easy, then dips down, meshing their lips together. He will encourage Choso to part his mouth right away with his tongue, performing all of this as if it were the most casual thing in the world and not the fact they’re catching some attention by people passing the alley they’re standing in. ]}

[gimu]

[ how can he not notice? peculiar thing he is, choso watches, observes, picks and plucks and stows away each sliver of each person he has met so far 'til the landscape of the empty canvas of his life is studded with them, these fragmented strokes.

a month and a half ago on the training room floor, Toji was a hollow thing, empty patience and jagged edges, deadly as a maul, knife-sharp in his violence.

here and now in the smoking area outside an arcade, with Toji's tongue slipping past his teeth easier than ever, choso can almost taste the Other that has come to inhabit the cavernous space of Toji's chest. greedy, curious, wondering, it's what has choso stepping in close 'til they're all but flush, like maybe he could feel the difference here too, like maybe he could pick it out in the thud of Toji's heart, in the rise and fall of his chest with each breath taken. (like maybe he can imprint it into himself somehow, this moment, this first time he has ever felt Toji feel alive in truth)

it's too bad the taste of the smoke is so immediate and so, so minty. his nose wrinkles again. ]