3Something small. Because I had .hack feels last night.
More specifically, Iori Feels. Also, if there's one character I hate in the .hack world, it's Iori's mother.
Enjoy.
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Thin legs dangled in the space between the stool and counter, hands clutched around a parfait. Wide brown eyes stared at the pair in the kitchen, one who looked uncertain and the other plain annoyed.
Iori blinked, biting the end of the spoon.
Ryou always looked annoyed. One of Ryou's friend, a tall man with a blue streak of hair among his mass of black, joked about it often enough whenever he visited. Slight frown, a furrow of his brow, arms crossed; Ryou definitely was the dictionary image of annoyed.
But he wasn't. His eyes spoke otherwise.
Iori looked down at his parfait, shoveling the strawberry into his mouth. Observant eyes targeted the other person. Taller than Ryou, and he looked foreign, but held no presence. None. Shoulders always hunched, as if to shield him, to make him smaller than he was, blue eyes memorizing the pattern of the floor; no such presence.
Expect that smile.
That smile held its' own presence.
Iori shoveled another fruit from the nearly empty cup. He watched Kaoru and Ryou.
He smiled and he pushed away the empty cup. Iori grabbed the other parfait lined up, this one less sloppy than the one he finished eating. Starting with a spoonful of nothing but whip cream, he ate.
"Don't eat if you're full." Ryou said.
Iori nodded.
"…How is it?" Kaoru asked.
The ten year old boy glanced at Kaoru, whom was nervously waiting for his judgment.
"It's delicious." Iori replied. Shoulder's visibly relaxed and Kaoru smiled. Iori blinked, turning red across the cheeks. Kaoru turned toward Ryou, beaming. Ryou couldn't help but smile in return. They talked and Iori tuned them out. He listened to the rhythm of the words instead. He was lulled to sleep, parfait forgotten, then floating. Arms supported him.
Arms that his body recognized as Ryou's. Not his father's arms, nor his mother's.
And he couldn't help but lift his arms, embracing them around Ryou's neck, clinging to that warmth he never felt at home.
Nobody screeched out, he wasn't scolded. The arms held on to him tighter, recognizing the need.
Iori slept peacefully.