A Plate-Sized...Record?
You pull an old-timey black record out of the trash bag and look up as Shinji gets to his feet. “Lucky me,” he says in a deadpan voice, rolling his eyes.
Since Hiyori isn’t there to, you slap Shinji with your sneaker instead, although it takes a minute to untie the laces. Apparently immune after being smacked so many times, Shinji just sighs. “Let’s just get this over with. Your grandmother scares me.”
Gran, on cue, rubs her hands together and cackles. “Alright, kids, in you go!” With that, she shoves you both though a door and into a small, windowless room that is apparently a storage closet.
Somewhere along the way a mop tips over and thwacks you on the head. “Damn!” Rubbing the lump, you trip over the accompanying bucket and, graceful person that you are, collapse on something warm and firm that is more than likely Shinji, because it yelps in his voice.
“What’s wrong with you? Can’t you walk three feet without tripping? Sheesh!”
“Oh, bite me, Hirako.”
After a few moments of silence you realize you’re still sitting on Shinji. You scramble off, or try to, but you manage to accidentally put a foot in the bucket and trip again. With a tremendous bang, a shelf falls off the wall. With your legs laid over Shinji’s, you lay back and say in exasperation, “Thanks a bunch, Gran.”
Shinji snickers, earning him another sneaker-slap. “Geez, ease off, or I’m going to start thinking you’re Hiyori.”
“I’m not quite that violent, thank you.”
“How many times have you hit me with a shoe in the last five minutes?”
“Irrelevant,” you growl. “What was the record for?”
“I like jazz. You know that.” He gives a snort of derision. “Is your memory going too?”
That hurt, more than a little, and you draw your legs up to your chest, ready for a hardcore pity-party. Shinji had been a good friend when he was still a Shinigami, and he’d never pulled his stupid ‘first love’ thing with you, but it seems that time’s made him a serious jerk.
You recall thinking that on first meeting him, but conveniently forget it the next moment, occupied with something much more important. “Shinji, why didn’t you ever try your ‘first love’ line on me?”
“Huh? Oh, that? Dunno. Probably figured you’d start whacking me like Hiyori.”
“But I’m not Hiyori,” you point out in an over-loud, over-emotional voice. The crush you’ve nursed for a century breaks painfully—Shinji couldn’t possibly love you; he’s a joker and a jerk and…
“Are you actually crying?”
“N-N-No,” you sniffle. This was officially the worst day ever. The minute you were out of this stupid closet, you were going to go home and never talk to anyone again. Ever.
Movement sounds across from you and Shinji sidles up to you, placing a tentative arm around your shoulders. “I don’t get what you’re upset about.”
“You,” you mumble miserably.
“Wait, what did I do?”
You sniffle again and pull away, but Shinji keeps you close, looking more and more annoyed. “What is wrong with you, _______? You’ve never cried at me before.”
“You’re so stupid, Shinji.”
“Thanks, but that doesn’t help me calm you down. Geez, you’d think you were in love with me or something…”
“I am, you dolt!” Your voice rings around the small room.
Shinji, pressed back against the wall, sticks a finger in his ear and waggles it around. “I think I’m deaf. You’re in love with me? Or you’re calm?”
“Shinji! Be serious!”
“Alright, alright, just, please, stop crying! God, if you keep going I’m going to start banging my head against a wall!” It occurs to you that Shinji is just as close to pulling his hair out as you are; he’s just better at hiding it. “You’re even worse than Hiyori!”
You stare at him with tear-stained eyes and Shinji, heaving an enormous growling sigh, pulls you up close and rests his chin on the top of your head. “I missed you,” he says softly.
“What? You… missed me?”
“Yes! Don’t rub it in!” Shinji, face vaguely pink, looks away. After a moment he looks back, somewhat angry. “Are you trying to drive me nuts? You come in here like nothing’s happened and then start crying all over me. You’d better be crying because you love me, _______.”
You gawk at each other in surprise for almost a minute. “Did you just say…?”
“Forget it—“ Shinji finishes the sentence with a smothered curse, his warm mouth trapped beneath yours. You circle your arms around his neck, pressing yourself close into his side, as Shinji gently probes your mouth with his pierced tongue.
You crawl on top of him, arms tightening, fingers lacing into his hair. You remember when it was long and beautiful, but even short it’s cute. It’s Shinji. He could be a cueball like Ikkaku and you wouldn’t care. You give him a slow, brief kiss on the lips, then another long, lingering one. “I love you so much, Shinji… I missed you!”
He leans his forehead on yours. “Thank you, God. I was starting to think I’d lost you forever.”
“No, Shinji. Never. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, and if you ever tell anyone, I’ll be ruined.” Shinji says with an enormous sigh. “How am I supposed to go on if I’ve got a girlfriend?”
“You’ll manage,” you answer, laying your head on his shoulder in triumph. “Just no more ‘first love’ crap.”
“Except to you?”
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