#reshidei

“Am I calling Ratio or am I calling an ambulance?” Art asks no one in particular, voice steady. Nice shares a look with Murasaki. Neither of them has an answer.

That gets Birthday moving, however. He detaches his hand from his hairline and holds it up, takes a gulp of air like a drowning man, and hoarsely says, “No.” Nice doesn’t bother to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

“Birthday, that’s either or,” Murasaki says, one hand at Birthday’s throat. “ Or does your heart always sound like this?” he asks, frowning. He continues frowning as he turns to Nice and Art to say, “It’s like a hummingbird.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Birthday insists, trying to take a deep breath and failing. “It’ll pass. It’s just something that, something that, happens, it’ll pass…”

“Ratio or ambulance?” Art asks again, all business, and a vague voice in Nice’s head whispers jump his bones at that tone, mutters god that’s hot and yeah, it is and yeah, it’s been a while since Nice has heard it because Art isn’t a cop anymore, but he would also really appreciate if his brain could stop acting like a hormonal teenager about his boyfriend now that he’s twenty and not, like, fifteen.

Anyway. Birthday is breathing like shit.

“It’ll pass,” Birthday forces out, feeble, teeth grinding. Very unconvincing, overall. “No need to bother Ratio about it–” another attempt at a deeper breath, this time with an underlying wheeze to it, and this one ends with an abrupt cough that has Birthday reaching for his chest. He looks genuinely surprised by it, but his face quickly falls into concern.

“Okay,” he whispers, swallowing convulsively, and Nice could swear Birthday pales another shade. “Okay. Ratio, then,” he concedes. Art wastes no time.

It’s always seemed so very wrong to see Birthday anything that’s not happy, upbeat, energetic, Nice thinks, but this is just a whole another level of it altogether. Yeah, he’s seen Birthday sick, but that was a couple of years ago, and from everything he’s gathered and been told he’s been under the impression that Birthday’s been cured since they put an end to Freemum and got Art back. But Birthday just said this is something that happens, apparently on the regular, so Nice has obviously been under a very incorrect impression – though he’s obviously not the only one, if Murasaki and Art’s reactions are anything to go by.

Master chooses that moment to place his hand on Birthday’s shoulder. “How about we get you lying down, would that help?” he asks, ignoring the way Birthday flinches at the touch.

“Wouldn’t half-sitting be better?” Nice quips. Birthday’s hand is fluttering above his chest, and he’s starting to shake. He keeps listing to the side, and Murasaki keeps trying to keep him upright. Nice moves to put a hand to his back, to provide some more support.

So his hand is directly behind Birthday’s lungs and he gets to feel how they seize up just before Birthday whispers, “Oh god,” pitches forward, and coughs up a mouthful of blood. Nice is inclined to echo the sentiment, because oh god, oh god, oh god, that just happened, what the hell. Murasaki tries to steady him, but the bar stool is a really shitty choice for a seat right now so he ends up helping Birthday onto the floor instead.

Birthday slumps sideways and starts coughing again, and he’s beginning to look genuinely panicked. Art’s voice picks up an urgent edge that Nice catches, even if he’s not paying attention to what he’s saying. Birthday brings one hand to cover his mouth, and grips the fabric of his shirt with the other. Murasaki looks just about as helpless as Nice feels, trying to hold him at least semi-upright as coughs wreck his body one after another.

“Birthday,” comes Art’s voice, sharp and commanding. Nice’s attention snaps at him immediately. “I’m putting Ratio on speaker for you,” he says and promptly does exactly that, holding his phone forward.

“Birthday? Talk to me.” Ratio’s voice retains an air of professionalism through the line, but Nice can easily pick up on the slightly frantic undertone. Birthday huffs a breathless laugh and extends a shaky hand towards Art, who hands him the phone.

“Ratio, hi,” Birthday says, and his strained grin is stained with blood. “Sorry to… bother you, really,” he stops to try and breathe. It doesn’t do much. “They’re being dramatic... about it, it’s jus… just a little episode…”

“He’s coughing up blood,” Nice announces when Birthday stops to catch his breath. Birthday gives him a look of betrayal, which lets Nice know just how much he’s lying about the severity of… whatever this actually is. Ratio swears.

“I’m on my way,” Ratio says, tense even through the phone. “Birthday, give me a number on your pain.”

Birthday grimaces and muffles a cough. This one doesn’t bring up more blood. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, and mutters, “Eight.” Nice is fairly sure that’s bullshit.

Ratio seems to agree, if the stern, suspicious tone he calls Birthday’s name with is any indication. Birthday sighs and quiets down.

“And a half,” he eventually concedes.

Now, Nice knows a thing or two about pain. He’s been both shot and stabbed in his life, and even before that Facultas ran their students ragged until they couldn’t walk or breathe or stand. He’s learned the scale. He’s got a scar on his shoulder, fairly new, that twinges at the way Birthday says “and a half”.

“Is there anything we can do while we wait for you?” Murasaki asks, hands still supporting Birthday.

“He’s supposed to have his own painkillers.”

“Nope,” Birthday says immediately. “They’re in your car.” His breathing is starting to even out, little by little, though he’s still wheezing – it’s no longer the hitching mess trying to play catch-up and stumbling at every turn. He doesn’t have to pause after every other word, now.

“Of course they are,” Ratio sighs. Nice can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, then. Have him drink something, eat something easy if he feels up to it. I’m about ten minutes out. He can have some paracetamol for the pain.” And with that, he hangs up.

Master brings them a glass of water and two pills that Birthday downs quickly. He’s still shaky, barely managing to hold the glass, but he’s starting to look more like he’s about to crash than like he’s going to suffocate and die, which Nice supposes is a good thing.

“Do you want something to eat? We have some crackers and stuff that should be easy on the stomach,” Koneko speaks up, having stayed quiet until now. Birthday shakes his head.

“Nah, I’d just puke them up,” he says, cracking one eye open and offering her a tired smile. “Thanks anyway.”

There’s not much to do while they wait for Ratio. It feels wrong to just leave Birthday where he is and go do something else, so Nice and Art settle on the chairs of the nearest table. Murasaki stays on the floor with him, still preventing him from toppling over. Birthday’s breathing is barely labored anymore when Nice decides to ask what he’s fairly sure is on everyone’s minds.

“Weren’t you supposed to be cured?” Art kicks him under the table. Nice glares at him.

“Yeah,” is all that Birthday says. He doesn’t offer anything else, but Nice is curious, and more than a little concerned.

“So what the hell was that? Was it unsuccessful or something?”

“We don’t know yet,” comes Ratio’s voice from the door. He spots Birthday quickly and hurries to him. The way he says Birthday’s name, a rushed whisper, seems unconscious. Murasaki moves out of the way.

“It started a few months ago and has happened only a couple of times,” Birthday says, the words directed at Nice but his attention fully focused on Ratio, who crouches down and immediately sticks a stethoscope under his shirt, frowning. Birthday makes a choked noise that would probably be a yelp on another day. Ratio hands him a pill bottle and continues doctoring.

“You haven’t coughed blood before. How’s the pain?” Ratio asks once he retreats the stethoscope. He moves his hands to examine Birthday’s face, glove-clad fingers barely touching his pale skin.

“I've coughed plenty of blood before. Six-ish, flows between high five and low seven,” Birthday replies, making a vague, flowy gesture with his hand. “Koneko-chan, could I have some water?” he then asks, turning to look at Koneko instead of staring straight into Ratio’s eye.

“Can’t you just use your Minimum?” Nice continues. Art kicks him again.

“Not from this you haven't," Ratio tells Birthday, and then turns to Nice. "I can and I have,” he replies, and takes the glass Koneko is offering to Birthday whose hands are still unsteady. There’s something off about his tone, frustration bubbling to the surface from under a layer of composure, and Art gives Nice such a nasty look that Nice decides to drop the subject. Ratio shoves a pill into Birthday’s mouth and holds the glass for him.

“I’d like to take you to the hospital,” Ratio says, hand coming up to cradle Birthday’s face. “Have your old doctor take a look at you.” Birthday leans into the touch, Ratio’s black gloves contrasting his still-pale face starkly.

“And I’d like to go home, Ratio.”

Ratio looks like he wants to argue, but Birthday both looks and sounds so spent, so exhausted, that he doesn’t. Nice knows Ratio has always had a hard time saying no to Birthday, but witnessing it is always interesting.

“Fine,” he sighs in defeat, and Birthday grins at him. “We’ll go home. But if you’re still in pain in the morning I will personally carry you to an appointment.”

“You say that like it’s a threat,” Birthday teases, sounding more like himself than he has since this whole thing started. That gets a smile out of Ratio.

Ratio scrapes a bit of dried blood off from the corner of Birthday’s mouth and stands up in one fluid motion. “Can you stand?” he asks, even though it’s fairly clear to everyone that the answer is no. Birthday looks slightly amused.

“I can barely sit.”

“I’ll help,” says Murasaki, stepping forward. He moves to stand next to Birthday as Ratio nods in appreciation and steps to Birthday’s other side.

Birthday blanches as they get him upright, already pale complexion draining to sickly gray, and his eyes almost roll back. He stumbles into Ratio, legs shaking, and both Ratio and Murasaki drape his arms around their shoulders while he tries to regain his balance. It looks kind of awkward, with how much taller Murasaki is.

It takes a couple of moments of dangerous-looking swaying that has Nice and Art getting up from their seats as well for Birthday to steady himself somewhat. Once he does, he closes his eyes and leans his head on Ratio’s shoulder.

“Oh god, yeah, that didn’t feel good,” he mutters.

“You can sit back down in the car,” Ratio promises, wrapping an arm around Birthday's waist. “Let’s go.”

Ratio and Murasaki basically carry Birthday out, in the end. At the door Ratio turns to thank the rest of them, Art especially for calling, and then they’re gone. Murasaki returns after a couple of minutes, reports that they got Birthday to the car safely and without passing out, and orders a shot of “whatever’s strong”.