like a rainbow fading into blue

“Is it crass for me to say ‘happy birthday to me’?” Kira asked, ending in a sing-song as he settled down in the armchair. 

“Well, it is your birthday,” Nagisa answered, emerging from the bathroom where he had changed. 

Nagisa rounded the corner, and Kira felt his heart seize in his chest. A heat smoldered in his core, quickly spreading south. Kira shifted in his seat, leaning back in the deep armchair until the back of his knees hit the edge of the seat. 

Kira licked his lips, gaze tracking as his boyfriend moved confidently through the room. Feet clad in cotton white stockings, snug against sculpted calves. The toned expanse of thigh kissed by the soft fabric of a bright red, pleated skirt. The outfit was pulled together by a loose white crop top with a wide neck that fell off one shoulder. It has a faded logo of a local ballclub on the front.

Nagisa was at the chair quickly, legs bracketing one of Kira’s knees. A breath punched out of Kira he wasn’t even aware he was holding. His gaze like a laser at the edge of the skirt, the fabric swishing softly against pale skin. His jaw was slack, it was certainly a gift to see his boyfriend dressed in such a daring outfit. A restless itch scratches down his arms.

“My sister says I seem different lately.”

Startled by the sudden statement, Nagisa looked up from his book. Kira was looking at him from the other end of the sofa, his own reading material turned upside down on his lap. His brow was knitted together, the thought clearly distracting them from their relaxing evening. It was the first free moment Nagisa could get with Kira in what felt like weeks. The hospital held too much of his time—rightly, of course. 

“Did she say why?” Nagisa asked as he closed his book and set it on the table.

“No,” Kira sighed, copying Nagisa’s movements, abandoning his book all together, “well, she said I ‘seemed softer’ whatever that means.”

Nagisa shifted on the sofa as he drew his feet up under him, “I agree with her.”

Brown eyes narrowed, irritated daggers thrown Nagisa’s way. He had to suppress the giggles the look drew out of him. 

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Ah, well,” Nagisa paused to think. He moved again, crawling across the sofa to sit on the middle cushion next to Kira. He was being watched intently, the calculating gaze always trying to figure Nagisa out three steps ahead of what was actually happening in front of him.

The mound of paperwork scattered across his desk was quickly developing into a headache. Fingers pressed into his temples in a futile attempt to lessen the pain. Convincing the hospital’s purse holders that his experimental procedure was worth the risk seemed like an impossible task most days. Old men that hadn’t touched a scalpel in decades and perpetually adverse to change.

Next to him his phone lit up as it sent gentle vibrations through the desk top.

A welcomed distraction.

Kira closed the folder in front of him and picked up his phone instead. The phone vibrated with a second message before he could get the messenger app open. The red 2 was next to Nagisa’s name.

>>I think I am dying

The second message was an attached image. Nagisa was lying on his stomach, his head mostly buried in his pillow. His face was red and swollen, a listless look in his eyes. He had the hood of his sweatshirt up over his messy hair.

Kira frowned.

<<Proclamations of death shouldn’t be exaggerated

>>I’m not

<<Fever?

>>39

Kira felt his frown deepen.

<<You should rest.

>>Can you come over?

<<Are you asking me to make a house call?

>>Are you going to charge me?

Kira chuckled, at least his sense of humor was intact. He certainly wasn’t going to die.