Others R Mentioned In Passingggg - Tumblr Posts

it is ramadan again, another year at mankai, and citron is worried that if his heart gets any more full, it’ll burst inside his chest, and he’ll slide off the couch, limp, and crush poor muku who’s sitting on the floor.

guy is with him. that alone feels as if it’s too much to ask for. and yet, there he is, warm hands, gentle face, and that soothing voice that makes citron feel like a little kid again, that makes him want to sit in the kitchen as he cooks and listen to guy talk for hours.

more frequently, they’re joined in the mornings by assorted troupemates, trying their hand at the early hours. a surprisingly common occurrence is chikage. he seems quieter in the mornings, something citron comes to appreciate, to the relief of guy.

and the hustle and bustle of eid preparations makes him want to cry, just as much as it makes him overjoyed. it feels like home again.

on the day itself, the whole company seems to be there, falling over each other to get things done, to celebrate, to sheepishly ask guy whether or not they had the banner upside-down. [they did. woopsies. itaru helps re-hang it]

citron, guy, yuki, and kazu create a henna squad, and almost every single company member is marked in some place, big or small. kazu delightedly gets both his hands done by citron. kumon has his on his inner wrist, so it doesnt fade too quickly from how much he uses his hands playing sports. citron mischievously snuck some onto hisoka’s cheek as he napped, though he didn’t end up minding too much, since he couldn’t feel it. sakyo sat almost dead-quiet for guy to give a small design on the back of his shoulder, not wanting it visible, but still wanting to show his support, that he considers them family. azuma delights in how his set traces down to his fingertips, showing off his graceful, slim hands. juza is surprisingly ticklish, and wont stop moving, to yuki’s eternal annoyance.

citron and guy both do one hand each for izumi, and they seem much quieter as they work than they were with the others.

citron has a laptop open to a video chat with his siblings, and it runs for hours upon hours. everyone stops by the screen and waves at least once, politely introducing themselves. occasionally, there are shouts from the computer, as a brother tries to pass along a question, or comment. when akigumi was introduced, they hear some excited murmurs, and then a kind sounding voice. citron translates the compliment to mean, ‘hey hey, please tell that young boy there that we like his sweater!! it looks classy, very nice!’. taichi wasnt there at the moment, nor was azami. through a couple of clarifying questions, citron breaks into a horrible giggle fit, and announces that they were talking about sakyo. [old man can only grumble that the camera must be less than great in its clarity. though he does give a polite nod as a thank-you]

it’s ramadan again, and citron feels so, so full.

Every now and then i remember that [for all the essays i could write ab how they deserve better from the writers and official artists] citron and guy are muslim coded and my little heart fills :)

citron teaching omi and izumi how to make roti on a well aged tawa [think crepe pan!], one of the few things citron brought with him when he fled home. Smiling quietly when he teaches them how to scoop up curry without getting toooo messy, and openly grinning and cheering when sakuya manages to do it perfectly, laughing and agreeing when misumi says the shape between his fingers looks a bit like a triangle!!!! So cool!!!!!

Heart swelling with something…just something. When he hears masumi and tenma grumble about the saffron staining their fingernails. Just like his brothers do. Well, did. I mean, probably still do…right?

Every now and again, he was viscerally reminded that he. Was not. Home.

No one recognized his spices and perfumes.

No one joined in his little songs, references from his favorite movies. They couldn’t.

He always, always had to check before he ate something for the ingredients list. Something he took for granted. A comfort, a sense of safety he took for granted.

No one recognized his mumbled recitations under his breath after watching horror movies. He was never the most intently devout, but the Arabic he did know soothed his soul.

The simplest things.

Tea tasted thin, bitter. Nothing like his rich, spiced chai.

That was it.

Little things.

Nothing special he could point to and say was ‘wrong’. It just, deeply, wholly, wasn’t his.

Citron felt that gut wrenching twist and claw of loneliness when holidays rolled around. He dreaded celebrating alone.

He explained Ramadan to his new family! Assured them that, yes, he was definitely eating! He just wouldn’t be eating with them in the day for a while! All with this…strange smile on his face.

The first week of the first Ramadan he spent at the dorms was sad. Just plain sad.

He wanted his brothers. He wanted them near him so bad it hurt. He wanted to hear those quiet little complaints and the jokingly angry yells whenever a commercial for food came on the tv. He wanted to wake up with them. Watch everyone slowly shuffle into the kitchen before dawn. When he was alone it felt wrong. Like he was taking food when he wasn’t supposed to. It just. It wasn’t right. Nothing about it felt right.

And then the second week started. And Izumi was in the kitchen before him.

Bleary eyed, blanket around her shoulders [that made his heart hurt, who knows why], and wearily peering at the stove as she stirred a pan of leftover curry, rice cooker with only 3 minutes left on the counter. And the young man was struck with how soft her ‘good morning’ was. How full of love and determination her smile was.

He was not ashamed when he cried into her shoulder for a minute or so. She seemed to understand.