#nijimayu

*

Akashi Seijuro, the bastard, had to be the best at everything.

Even watching Seijuro wake up irritated him to no end. Chihiro was big enough to admit to his own flaws; he knew he woke up with a bedhead that could rival only the hilarity of Seijuro’s haircut in third year, okay, he knew that there’s gunk at the corner of his eyes more often than not and his mood was even less desirable. Shuzo’s flaws - his voice became hoarse (pending flaw), sometimes he involuntarily woke up at five fucking am (how and why?), and breathing on Chihiro’s face half-asleep meant a (well-deserved) kick to both shins.

Seijuro, on the other hand, woke up as though he had not gone to sleep in the first place. His eyelids flutter open delicately and refreshed, even after four unconscious Shuzo-style kicks during the night. He pushed away whatever sweaty limb holding him captive and then starts the day like that. Just like that. Those commercials, Chihiro thought, that promote cereal like porn and mornings like a godsend have nothing on Seijuro.

So it was more than a little alarming when he woke up one morning and Seijuro still had his eyes closed – asleep, messy, pale, and by the looks of it, still in REM cycle.

“Hey,” Chihiro grasped Seijuro’s shoulder and shook him a bit since 8AM meant Seijuro probably had a lecture to attend. Apparently ‘smart’ (completely idiotic) people specifically chose that hour to go to class. “Get up.”

He drew back, because that was definitely a slap to his arm and Seijuro probably thought that was okay. An incoherent mutter came out audible but faint and did nothing to help Chihiro’s disbelief.

“What’s the matter with you?” He smacked Seijuro on the forehead where sweat had accumulated and - ah. A fever. A bad one. Chihiro wiped his hand on a pillow with a grimace, listening to Seijuro’s pitiful sigh.

“Stop,” Seijuro’s body was pushed back down as it misbehaved, Chihiro stretching over him to grab a thermometer from the first aid kit. Seijuro inevitably started to fidget again and Chihiro was left with very few options but to squish the young man down with his upper body, ignoring his mangled groan.

“Stop it or I’m sliding this up your ass instead.” 

He watched as Seijuro’s mouth opened and closed and then opened again with great difficulty. Eventually a sound was made.

“Chihiro.” Seijuro rasped and it sounded painful enough to make Chihiro wince.

“I know.” He realised he didn’t need effort to muster the gentleness that came to his tone - it just sort of, quite irritatingly, happened. The thermometer was removed and Seijuro blinked at him slow before promptly tucking into Chihiro’s side. Slim fingers pushed into Seijuro’s matted hair and scratched at his scalp, eliciting small, pleased noises from the younger man.

Chihiro’s eyes softened, Seijuro’s went glazed.  

The thermometer read 39 degrees and he cursed because Akashi Seijuro, the absolute bastard, had to be the best in being sick too.

*

It was quite easy to take Seijuro’s wealth for granted but the fact that he had a private doctor at his beck and call was the best news Shuzo had heard all day. Influenza, the doctor had unsurprisingly said, the young master will be better by next week.

Seijuro’s absence in their daily routine (consisting in all three of them ignoring each other in the lounge room while they tended to their own business) resulted in an anxious silence; anxious on Shuzo’s part, silence with Chihiro.

“Can you stop?” Chihiro asked once Shuzo’s continuous walk-up-and-down path reached him. It was becoming irritating and rhythm games on his phone plus irritation was not a good mix. He took the folded crossword book from the dinner table and smacked the other’s hip with it. “Here, do your old man puzzles.”

Shuzo swatted him away with a mutter and sat himself down on the chair across Chihiro. He still had a stupid look on his face but that didn’t stop Chihiro from propping his feet up on Shuzo’s lap.

“Don’t, they stink.”

Chihiro gave him a dirty look, “I took a shower.”  

Shuzo’s hands moved as though to push him away but opted to rest on his ankles instead. His hands seemed to automatically move, kneading at Chihiro’s calves and caressing the skin soothingly. Chihiro internally sighed; it’s usually very difficult to keep a straight face with Shuzo’s massages. His hands were just so nice, callused and steady and likely bigger than Chihiro’s and undoubtedly bigger than Seijuro’s.

“Why am I doing this? You should be massaging me. You don’t even look concerned.” Shuzo kept up his ministrations regardless.

“Oh, I am concerned for Akashi all the time. Trust me.” Chihiro said, in a deadpan so unfeeling his mother would surely scold him. His claim was genuine, he insisted, though perhaps a tad bit misplaced. A tad. 

“What are you worked up for anyway? He’ll be fine in a few days. Also, Shoto and Shoko get sick all the time. This isn’t like you.”

“I’m sorry,” Nijimura frowned, jabbing recently cut nails into a bony ankles, “am I not allowed to worry about a person sick in bed with a 39 degrees fever?”

“It went down after the medicine. Stop being dramatic, it’s embarrassing.”

Shuzo didn’t like this tone; this tone was classically used for dealing with brats. Last he checked, Shuzo was not a brat.

He scowled, and then scowled harder knowing he was probably doing the lip-thing. Damn it all. “He’s never been that sick before, not even in middle school. And I know about the flu, stress only accelerates the process…”

“Humans get sick. Getting sick is a human thing.” Chihiro muttered, but the thought managed to make him a little cross. “Besides, if there really is something going on, we won’t be able to do anything unless he tells us.”

A silence of mutual understanding followed his statement; only very recently have they accepted the idea of opening up to each other - which would have been seen as little progress judging by how long they’ve been ‘together’, Shuzo thought, but to each their own.

“How contagious do you think it is?” Shuzo asked after a moment.

“Why.”

To which Shuzo only stared.

“If he gets you sick too, I am not going anywhere near that room. You two can die alone.”

“Sure.” Shuzo’s hands clamped dangerously over his ankles. “As if you have anyone else in the first place who’s willing to babysit you or your shitty moods.”

“I’m one year older than you.” Chihiro said dryly. “And yeah, because you and Seijuro are total angels. Remind me whose mood it was that completely ruined Seijuro’s formal dinner last year – fuck!”

“When did you get such a vulgar mouth?” Shuzo sighed and released him, having successfully yanked Chihiro closer by his ankles. Chihiro was now fifty percent on his lap, fifty percent falling off the chair. “Could have sworn you weren’t half this bad before.”

“When did you get so annoying?” Chihiro pushed himself up by his elbows and grabbing Shuzo’s arm to right himself. “You were supposed to be the good one.”

Shuzo cracked a smile. “That was faulty judgement on your part, if you ever thought I would be the good one. Correct in how you eliminated yourself, though.”

“…For the record, I hope Masaomi’s death stare comes back to haunt you. Actually, he scolded me more than he did you and he couldn’t even see me half the time. And you broke the blender. How is that fair?”

“You deserved it and so did he.” Shuzo said icily, the want for this conversation to end clearly present. He was embarrassed, Chihiro could tell. But who wouldn’t be, after (rightfully) snapping at a boyfriend’s Father on his birthday? “Besides, it was paid for and replaced, okay?”

It was. The new blender was nowhere near as expensive as the old one but Chihiro often acted fonder with the treasured household item than he did with Shuzo himself.  

“Well, where is my payment?”

“You laughed and deserved what you got – which was my payment, I don’t know why you think you need one.”

“I bled.”

“I’m incredibly sorry.”

“Back off, sarcasm is my thing.”

“Is sincerity is mine?”

“Sigh.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“I know,” Chihiro rolled his eyes and hovered closer. “I know because right after that, you laughed. I can’t believe I’m saying this but maybe Akashi really is the good one.”

“Huh, or neither of us are. I’m not sure what your definition of good is but for me, falling sick and still demanding to go to work is definitely not it.” Shuzo stared indifferently at the quickly closing distance, not moving an inch further or closer. Though he did close a hand over Chihiro’s as it questioned its place on Shuzo’s leg.

“Really.”

“Brat.” Shuzo agreed.

“No, I meant really. You’re saying this?” Chihiro said in a manner that clearly spoke: I know you and you know yourself and if you think you wouldn’t do the exact same thing, I’m totally going to punch you in the face – Shuzo recoiled and flashed a guilty smirk.

“Okay, like I said. Your poor judgement.”

“My judgement?” Chihiro scoffed, and with each word the distance between their noses seemed to decrease. “Your stupidity. If you and Akashi don’t die from sickness, you will from overwork and what will I do then? Actually we should really think about life insurance, remind me tomorrow. Peace aside, there’s got to be more good to come out of your deaths.”

Shuzo wanted to complain but the urge immediately ceased when he felt warm hands on his hips. “Was that your really tsundere way of saying you care?”

“Stop stealing my light novels and shut it. Forget I said anything.” And when Chihiro’s lips pressed against his, he’s more than happy to comply. The only time Chihiro’s eyes became expressive and more silver than the usual dull grey was when lips kissed lips and skin was on skin, and Shuzo always made sure to appreciate this fact by returning the enthusiasm vigorously.

He bit Chihiro’s lower lip harder than intended and received a stifled groan in response. He didn’t have to say sorry with the way the other gets revenge by digging nails into Shuzo’s exposed skin, hard enough to leave tiny crescent indents when they leave. Even entangled like this, quarrels were extended one way or another and physical retaliation was never out of the equation. At one point, Chihiro shifted so Shuzo was more on his lap than vice versa, feeling rough hands tug at his nape.

“I don’t steal your light novels.” Shuzo said after regaining his mouth and Chihiro frowned because what was the purpose of the kiss then, if he’s still not shutting up - “How is it stealing when you just leave them lying everywhere, stupid. Ringo-tan’s cute.”

“No, no. Do not make me relive my past trauma by saying the exact same thing Akashi said in third year.” Chihiro’s hands were warm where they rest curled at the small of Shuzo’s back. “The two of you don’t get to ruin Ringo-tan for me.”

“Alright fine, I’ll lay off your girlfriend. Speaking of,” Shuzo unplastered himself from Chihiro’s chest. “I’ll go get him some water.”

“Go then.”

“Let go.” He made a move to stand but Chihiro’s arms refused to budge around him. When he tried to take them apart, he’s met with more resistance. “Oi.”

“I change my mind, let him suffer.”

“Stop trying to prove you don’t have a heart,” Shuzo dully stated, pushing Chihiro back to successfully wriggle out of his hold. “We all know you do.”  

“I hate you.”

“You don’t.”

“You are annoying.” Chihiro followed him, grabbed the cup that was offered even though he doubted Seijuro had the strength to hold it up for himself.

“Yeah? Well so are you. So is Sei.” Shuzo tugged him along by the wrist. “And yet here you are, stuck with the both of us. Tough luck.”

*

“God.” Chihiro groaned hours later when he stepped into the room to witness Shuzo feeding Seijuro like a child. To do this, Shuzo had to be close enough to breathe in Seijuro’s sick particles and that did not sound good at all. Not when he, one, lived with these two bastards, two, had a 5000-word essay to submit next Monday, a personal preference to breathe without physically suffering and an alleviated nasty attitude to go.  

“What.” Shuzo said, sounding very insulted by his presence.

“This,” he said, pointing at the doorframe. “Is the line. All area on this side is quarantine and neither of you are allowed to cross it.”

“Then suffer when your ungrateful ass gets sick and no one’s there to nurse you back to health.” Shuzo pulled the glass back quickly as Seijuro started to cough, a large hand rubbing soothing circles into his lower back.

“Actually, I’m on this side of the line.” Chihiro said. “Meaning I won’t get sick, meaning I won’t need to be taken care of.”  

“I’m afraid you’ll need to vacate the whole apartment,” Seijuro said in the most dignified voice he could manage (it wasn’t very) before another nasty cough escaped him. “…For the full guarantee. Though there’s a high chance you’ve already been caught.”

There was the pitiful sight of a weakened Akashi Seijuro scratching the tip of his nose and sniffing. Chihiro has never seen him more human (to be fair, the memories of Seijuro writhing under him felt too illegal to be human).

“Sei,” Shuzo warned lowly.

Seijuro took the glass from him and set it on the table after a short silence. “Admittedly I haven’t been feeling up to par since Friday last week.”

That little…Chihiro felt the muscles in his forehead tighten in exasperation, he could see Shuzo fighting it off, too. No wonder it got so bad.

Shuzo hummed deceitfully sweet, “I’m going to flick your forehead.”

“Please don’t.”

He ended up not flicking any foreheads because Seijuro said please and that was always a hard thing to say no to. And while it was irritating knowing Seijuro had masked it for more than half a week, it was typical behavior for the brat. Admitting vulnerability now meant a big step from where he was a year ago. Also, he was down with the flu. There were just too many factors to take into account – no, Shuzo was not getting soft, definitely not.

“But Chihiro has a point,” Seijuro said. “This is - thank you, Shuzo, but you may not want to get too close to me right now.” 

“Shut up.” Shuzo crossed his arms and leaned back on his chair. “I want to take care of you so I’m taking care of you, okay? When was the last time anyone did anyway?”

“Ah.” Seijuro backtracked, glancing up at the ceiling. “The last time it was this bad was in senior high school, and my nanny did. She made me hot cocoa.”

“Right.” Shuzo confirmed, pinning Chihiro with his eyes before he could escape. “You there in quarantine, whip up some hot cocoa?”

“Excuse me?” Chihiro, happy about being momentarily forgotten, wondered for the second time tonight if he really deserved all this. “Why do I have to do it?”  

Shuzo stared. “We’ve been told not to cross the line?”

The glare Chihiro shot then was completely void of all compassion and sympathy and absolutely capable of physical slaughter. Unfortunately, the duo on the receiving end were freaks to society and were therefore immune. Seijuro coughed once to hide a chuckle, and that was enough for Chihiro to walk away unimpressed, thoroughly regretting his life choices.

(Later he came again, a mug in each hand.)

*