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AU: Regular / Holiday (Non-specific)
Requested (though I did stray a bit, it still follows the concept though)
Tags/Warnings: Gn-Reader, Time-skip, Mentions of domestic abuse, not heavy, but please be warned, more of a drabble with plot
Word Count: 1k+
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"Are they still stuck in traffic?"
Eita laid lax on the deep-set couch in the living room, listening to you talk on your phone as he plucked gently at the strings of his acoustic guitar —here by request of your parents. Your one arm was crossed over your torso as you pulled the phone away from your ear, pressing on the button to hang up.
"Ya. Don't know why they decided today was the day they took the cat to get her nails trimmed."
Eita clicked his tongue with a stupid grin, ruffling his ash-blond hair off the arm of the couch, before pulling you to sit at his side as you came closer. He chuckled lightly, "I miss Matcha; she gives me kisses."
Taking the large guitar off his chest, you set it down on the couch's side before digging an elbow gently into his stomach. "Replacing me with my family cat now huh?" you teased, pinching his nose. "Come help me prep dinner. They won't be back for a while."
You took to stirring the soup as Eita worked seasoning into the thawed out meat on the wooden counter. His arm swung up, and with an overexaggerated roar he slammed the dull pointed knife into the meat.
You get out a strangled gasp, spinning on your heel with wide eyes to see the short mullet-wearing man give you an equally surprised (though entirely fake) expression. A snort ripped its way out of your nose.
"Eita," you chuckled. "You're gonna give me a heart attack."
"In only good ways I hope," he purred, giving you a soft smile.
"Seriously." A three-beat knock came from your parent's front door. You turned off the soup's heat. "I'll get that. Don't let the soup burn, would you?"
Eita cut up the last few pieces of meat before making his way to the soup, listening to your footsteps pad their way to the front entrance. He stood there for a while, listening to the bubbling liquid as it ran over the muffled conversation outside. Once the soup finally settled he reached for the metal lid to keep it warm.
A loud bang ran through the mostly empty house, followed by the sound of splintering wood from the front entrance.
Running to the door, and groping the metal tightly in his hand Eita found himself unable to push it open. With a furrowed brow and heart pounding in his ear, he grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter and rushed to the front window, moving the heavy curtains to get a look outside.
The view made his stomach churn. With your shoulders scrunched up to your ears and back pressed firmly against the front door, you glared up at a man whose worn out jean clad arms pinned you there. Looking closer Eita could see that one hand was fisted against the wooden door frame, surrounded by splinters and staining the white paint red. Watching the man snarl in your face, unable to go out and help, Eita dialed the short number into his phone. Listening to it ring over the man's angered screams as he kept an eye on you from behind the glass wall.
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You shook violently in Eita's arms as your parents finally arrived, rushing out of their car, past the uniform wearing cops to come to your side.
Your mother rubbed your shoulder gently, taking you out of Eita's arms and walking you inside, cat carrier in hand. Eita stood with your father in the doorway, watching the cop car pull away from the curb.
The older man glared. "Damn that, Itsuki. Never knowing when to stop."
Eita followed the car with a worried gaze until it turned around the corner. "Who was he."
You father sighed, biting his lip as he raised a hand to brush over the broken wooden frame, shame pulling at his posture. "(Y/N)'s ex from the end of highschool. It's really not my story to tell, but, please just be gentle. That boy is horrid beyond reason. Hasn't changed and years and likely never will."
Inside, Eita saw you curled up on the couch where he had previously been lounging, head in your mother's lap as she plucked the strings of his guitar in a nonsensical pattern. "I'll take over. The soup should be ready but the meat needs to get cooked."
Your mother nodded, lifting up your head for Eita to slide in instead and grabbing your father's arm and dragging him into the kitchen with a mumbled order. Matcha jumped onto your chest, head reaching up to bump against Eita's arm.
Eita scratched that cat's head before switching to let the calloused tips of his fingers brush against the edge of your hairline, cooing gently as you tried to curl further into the heat of his lap, knocking Matcha off your chest and into the curve of your stomach on the couch. "Do you want me to play something for you?" he asked, already picking up his guitar as a tired hum escaped you.
He smiled, brushing his thumb over your eyelid gently, before playing a gentle tune into the almost silent house.
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I hope with was alright, a little rushed, a little short, not much character plot or anything but ehhhhh, the next one won't be much better, I can't get my mind around writing things at the moment - Bacon
