#Yaz with her hair down has me in a chokehold

[thinkaboutmeff7au]

flash time 96

Mother always cooks too much for Thanksgiving. There are five of us, sure, but there are always so many leftovers, even when Loz and Kadaj eat for two. My first Thanksgiving here astounded me, and I ate so much I could barely move…but now, it is no longer the case. Gingerly, I pick at the leftover turkey and put the meat away into plastic containers.

“Kadaj!” Yaz yells. “Mom, he’s throwing rolls at me!”

Mother sighs from the sink. “If you don’t want to do dishes, then clear the table! Please!”

I glance over my shoulder to see him ready another dinner roll at poor Yazoo, who has their hands full with plates. It is a clear “if you make another movement, I will kill you” look, and he lowers his arm, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. I look back at Jenova--she looks tired. Apparently he failed two classes this past semester, and if he’s not careful, he might not graduate. With Yazoo out of the house now, he’s the only one left here, but still causing trouble…

Still, she looks at me with grateful eyes. “Thank you, Sephiroth,” she says. “It’s so good to have you home every so often.”

I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “Of course,” I reply. Most of the turkey has been packed away, and I pause. “Ah, Mother, do you mind if I take some of this home with me?”

“Oh, goodness, no,” she laughs, waving a soapy hand at me. “Take as much as you’d like, there’s more than enough for us here.”

I nod, then reach into the cupboard and take out another container. All I need is another plate’s worth. “Kadaj, are you gonna do anything?” Yaz says.

“Nope.” I hear his chair creak and slam down as he gets up. “I’m gonna play my Playstation.”

“You’re gonna help clean up,” Loz says.

“Am not! H-hey!”

I hear the clear, distinct sound of Kadaj being put in a chokehold, and smile to myself. I often get exasperated at my family, but…occasions like this are all right. Small doses are fine.

I have one more stop to make tonight.

I knock on his door. “What?” he replies.

“It’s me,” I say.

There’s no reply, so I let myself in. He’s got a CD on--it’s not Loveless, but it’s something similar. Gen is not immediately present. “I brought you dinner,” I say.

“I already ate,” he grunts. It’s coming from the bathroom.

I sit down on the couch with my Tupperware in hand and examine the coffee table. A plastic tray sits with a fork in it, traces of grainy potatoes and frozen turkey stuck to the sides. A half empty glass of wine sits beside it, and beside that, an open photo album. It’s that photo album, covered with pictures from his childhood, with handwritten notes from Angeal.

The toilet flushes, and he stumbles out. He’s barely tipsy at best, which is surprising for all of this. “This doesn’t count,” I say, picking up the TV dinner tray. “I brought this over from Mother’s.”

“Christ, ‘course you did,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair before sitting beside me. “I don’t need it.”

“Mmhm.” Sure you don’t. I can smoke enough cigarettes to not feel hungry either, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for you. At any rate, it means he’s not high, otherwise he would’ve tipped the Tupperware straight into his open mouth, no questions asked.

He leans against my shoulder, staring down at the photo album. “I had to spend Christmas with my folks growing up,” he mutters. “But I always went to Angeal’s for Thanksgiving, ever since I knew him. After his mom died, we still spent it together. He would always cook.”

“Turkey and everything?”

“Uh-huh.” He sniffles and shakes his head. “I’d get loaded beforehand, so I wasn’t a lot of help. He got smart after a while--few years ago, he locked me out when he knew I was baked. I remember feeling like I was gonna die, I was so hungry--I never used to eat that day, y’know?” He smirks, lips curling on the side closes to me. “So…yeah. No weed on Thanksgiving.”

It’s quiet between us for a moment. This is his first Thanksgiving without him around. He’s nostalgic, obviously…but he’s not a sobbing, wasted mess like I’ve seen him. He’s definitely been worse. Tonight, he’s all right.

Angeal would be proud.

As I think this, Gen looks right at me and grins. “Didn’t say anything about the day after,” he says with a grin, and grabs the Tupperware out of my hand. “This is gonna be great tomorrow, thanks, dude.”

I scowl at him as he gets up and walks to the kitchen. “So you can get high tomorrow?”

“Leftover turkey is the best munchie food.”

“I thought that would be too elaborate for you.”

“Dude, just eat it cold. It’s all the same.”

“The fixings as well?”

“Yup.”

“You’re disgusting.”

He cackles as he slams the refrigerator door. For a moment, I had some feelings of good-will toward him, kindness, perhaps even affection. I had even considered staying the night, maybe even sucking his dick.

But as he looks back at me from the door way of the kitchen, with that lazy, shitty grin on his face…I think I won’t.

(S.)