Fandom: Fruits Basket
Rating: G, PG perhaps?
Pairing: None; although you can certainly see the Hatori/Momiji
Warnings: Slight angst, a whole load of fluffy and bouncy bunny?
Summary: You don't really need a reason for showing you love someone...
Disclaimers: I own not the Fruits Basket. If I did, I would die of overcute. I threaten to do so everytime I watch the anime or when I happen to read either Nem or Selah's fic.
Notes: For Nem (nemkess), because she wanted one and I hope she likes this. ^^; Also, I have no idea where this would fit in the timeline. I haven’t been keeping up with the manga at all, but I seem to get the impression that it’s not as fluffy waffy love as my earliest impression of the series, and that’s rather how I want the atmosphere of this fic. And yet I have no idea if this would fit well into the anime timeline at all as I don’t have my episodes to re-watch and verify. I hope it works regardless. ^^;
“It was lovely seeing you again, Hatori-san. I hope to see you about more often!”
He felt himself stumble back to his desk chair after he’d politely closed the door behind her, his entire body weighed down like lead. The shock of having her walk back into his life, no matter how innocently, or how briefly, hit him like a deep, damaging blow directly to his heart. He turned away from the door and the windows, fisting his hands to keep himself from watching her dance away into the crisp winter air, her cheeks glowing.
Turning to his desk, he felt out the much-fondled picture frame and its slightly-faded photo that had been turned facedown as soon as he’d realized who it was who’d been knocking at his door. He didn’t need to look at it to feel the lump swelling in his throat, even as he kept his face impassive. He clutched it against his chest nonetheless; a smaller, harder replacement for the warmth of her that he would never have again.
It took him several minutes to compose himself, enough to loosen his grasp on the frame and set it aside, enough to feel that lump in his throat lessen somewhat, and his mind clear enough to concentrate on the papers he’d had laid out on his desk. But Kana’s tactless—no, no, it wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know, didn’t remember—appearance and subsequent encounter had left him even more solemn than usual. A chance telephone call from Shigure involving the newest installment of his series had been met with an immediate disconnection, though it would surely guarantee him a visit from the man tomorrow if not later that evening to whine at his door and chatter about the goings-on outside the Sohma house.
He didn’t particularly relish the anticipation. With a sigh, he focused back onto the pages in his hand, and went back to work.
“Hari~!” the bright chirping singsong was as utterly unmistakable as the name he used.
“You’re late,” he replied automatically as he loosened his collar and looked up, just as the little blond sailed in, a flurry of flower petals drifting after him in his wake.
It truly was a miracle how on earth there might still be petals left in the large bouquet the boy held, judging from the wealth of crimson being blown about his floor in the brisk wind when the rabbit failed to close the door.
“Look, look! Aren’t they pretty? Tohru went with me to buy them, and there were so many kinds and lots of different colors, but I liked these the best so I bought them! Do you like them? Aren’t they pretty?” The boy was waving the roses less than an inch away from his nose as he nearly danced on the spot with glee.
“They’re… very nice. Who are they for?”
There was no special occasion for the rabbit to rush out and buy flowers, or anyone important visiting that he’d be interesting in buying them for either.
The boy laughed and bounced into his lap, settling himself down comfortably—even though he’d really grown too big for the maneuver in recent years—still holding them out to him. “They’re for you!” he replied, grinning cheerfully, continuing to wave the roses at him, waiting for him to take them.
“For… me…” he repeated, slowly taking the bouquet from the boy’s hands, which left them free to start digging through his schoolbag.
“And, and, and!” the boy continued, “These too!”
He promptly proceeded to thrust a wrapped box into the hand that wasn’t occupied by flowers, still beaming. “Tohru helped me make them!” he chattered happily, “And it was hard! But it was fun! And then Kyo-kun ran in and made a mess and got bits of it everywhere but that was okay too because then we got to eat some of it to check and it was yummy so I know when you eat them they’ll be good!”
The doctor felt the tightness in his lips soften into something that resembled a smile as he finally took in the faint smudges on the boy’s face and uniform. Then he glanced down at the package—the paper it was wrapped in was a clue. It was the same as the kind that had adorned the Valentine’s Day chocolates Honda-san had couriered to him through Momiji in the first place, more than a week ago.
“If this was for Valentine’s Day…” he began slowly, “You’re more than a little late…”
That might not have been the right thing to say because when the boy laughed again in response, it sounded older, sadder. “I saw Mama today… oh she didn’t see me!” he added quickly, waving his hands, “But she was with Papa, and Papa was giving her a cake because she likes cake and there wasn’t any reason for him to give her a cake, but Mama looked like she liked it, and she looked like she was happy too.”
The boy looked up at him, “So I wanted to give you chocolate because you like chocolate and I wanted to!” The look on his face made it seem like a perfectly logical conclusion.
“Why me?” he found himself asking after a moment, looking down at the flowers and the box and the boy in his lap.
“Because I wanted to,” Momiji replied smiling brilliantly up at him. “And because I didn’t want to have to have a reason to give you things!”
Then Hatori really did smile a little, and felt another lump forming in his throat. But this was entirely different from before, and he felt the inexplicable urge to crush the boy to his chest, flowers, carefully-wrapped sticky candy and all.
“And!” the boy continued, as if he hadn’t already accomplished his unintentional goal of making the doctor smile, “Because I love you!”
The older man was taken aback. Had it been so long since those words had come to his lips so easily? When had the words stopped being innocent, and taken a painful place in his heart reminding him only of a woman who could not handle her guilt?
And Momiji was looking up at him with those large eyes, as if expecting him to say something similar in return. He tried; he opened his mouth to try… but the words stuck in his throat and he couldn’t force them out. Finally, he closed his eyes, leaned over and delicately planted a kiss on the blond’s brow.
Somehow, Momiji seemed to understand that his soft “thank you” of an answer meant everything he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.