Word Count: 536 (details and A/Ns exclusive)
Prompt: Nothing, really… Something random I thought about while poking around on FFN.
Warnings: 8059/5980, implied homosexuality, spoilers for the end of FF2RL (From Fiction to Real Life) (not really spoilers, I guess), swearing, tore down the 4th wall
Summary: I love the idiot too much to choose to hide my slash and endure the pleading in his honey eyes over the mind-scarring that would take place if he reads whatever's saved in my android. Omake for FF2RL.
A/N: To those who are reading From Fiction to Real Life (FF2RL), I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING! To appease you guys, I'm posting this drabble, also to acknowledge the disease which is Fanfiction! Speaking of our beloved site, it's looking pretty badass recently 3. The changes they made are owzum~!
Hayato: That's spelt as 'awesome', you twat.
Me: I know that, you ungrateful excuse for a bitter, untrusting, suspicious, masochistic half-breed with abandonment issues; I was only trying to get my point across.
Hayato: … Well, you sure are straightforward in the way you do it. Insulting, too.
Me: *indignant*I am not insulting! I was merely describing you! I dare you deny anything - and I mean anything – from my above statement.
Hayato: … Point taken.
Hayato: Wipe that stupid grin off of your acne-ridden, pored face!
Me: Now who's insulting? And no – do not say that you were merely stating the truth; that's beside the point. You're using the natural course of my development (remaining dregs of puberty, really) as an excuse to deface me.
Me: This is getting too long; almost as long as the drabble itself. Just do the disclaimer already.
Hayato: This stupid author who talks to fictional characters DOES NOT OWN ANYTHING. (Geez; really, rub it in?) Rights belong to respective owners.
"Hey, why're you staring at your phone?"
Cue the eye roll.
"I'm not staring at my phone, you idiot; I'm reading." I sigh and snuggle deeper in my warm and fuzzy black coverlet, making myself more comfortable in the corner of the room I conquered as my own.
"Oh." A cock of the head to the right. "What are you reading?"
Cue a second eye roll then add a snort. "Fanfiction." Flat, short, succinct; a dismissal, if you read between the lines (or listen to the tone of voice).
Of course, you could never expect the idiot to be capable of those feats. He's so stupid he wouldn't recognize a fucking bullet even if it hits him in the face. Literally; it happened once, y'know? He really didn't (but that's another story to be told in a different time in a different place by a different person).
"Oh." His neck probably got a crick, since he straightened up. "Can I read that, too?"
The question made my spine go ramrod straight. "Fuck no!" How can I explain to a dumb, baseball-for-brains jock that I was reading about a guy screwing around with another guy? Heck, I'm not even sure he's had the "birds and the bees" talk with his dad, yet!
The lower lip shot out. "Why not?" he whined, taking full advantage of the well-known fact that I can never deny him when he dishes out his stupid (coughadorablecough) puppy-dog pout. I try to resist, all the same. I love the idiot too much to choose to hide my slash and endure the pleading in his honey eyes over the (inevitable, inescapable, unavoidable) mind-scarring that would surely take place (note my stressing, just to show severity. Oh, and please ignore the first verb in this sentence that started with a letter /L/; the fucking author adores me so much she deliberately humiliates me in her writings) if he reads whatever are saved in my android.
"B-Because I said so!" Shit, why'd I stutter? Please you didn't hear that. Please you didn't hear that. Please, please, please, please, please~! Of course, God (or in this case, "The Fucking Author") didn't listen to my prayer (when did she ever?) (Continue antagonizing me, Hayato, and this will definitely get a lot worse.) (I didn't say anything! I swear! Fuck, now I'm dialoguing in my head! And we still haven't even reached five hundred words yet!).
Anyways, back to the matter at hand.
"What is it that you don't want me to know?" he asks, eyes narrowed, a graceful arch rising slowly, slowly.
I gulp. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's doing that thing with his right eyebrow. It means he won't stop pestering me 'til I give (that only comes out when I'm playing hard-to-get and punches him in the face; in the end, he still gets whatever it is that he wants).
Still, I persevere. Again, I want to elude the trauma and the loss of some of his innocence his stupidity stubbornly, yet conveniently protects.
"Something you're not allowed to know. Be contented in the fact I actually care enough to protect your innocence."
Silence. And then –
"… You're reading yaoi again, aren't you?"
Fuck my life.