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It wasn’t exactly unusual for Karamatsu to wake up with a crick in his neck. Sharing a futon with five other people was going to be a little troublesome at the best of times, but when they all had a tendency to roll and splay and punch in their sleep, dreaming was sometimes a contact sport. Karamatsu had often woken up halfway off the futon or with an elbow in his side or, like on one memorable occasion, thrown halfway down the stairs. But this, this was such a foreign sensation to wake up to. His mind, slow and thick and sticky like honey, was slow to understand what the jumble of sensations meant. His feet were cold against the tatami mats, but his head was overheated. His neck was bent at an angle that was very, very odd, and there were arms looped like steel around his shoulders to keep it that way. He was, he realized abruptly, being held to a very soft chest that rose and fell with soft snores.
It wasn’t one of his brothers. His brothers had never held him like that, giving and stealing comfort at the same time, clutching him close like a teddy bear. It wasn’t one of his parents, who had always had too few arms to hold their sons all at once. It was… It was…
And then, just like that, the world came back into sharp and unforgiving focus. He remembered now. He remembered everything. He remembered trudging to the very brink of existence, ready to pitch himself over the edge. He remembered strong, stubborn hands yanking him backward. He remembered crying like a painful, embarrassing little baby. He remembered the way that Chibita hadn’t complained about Karamatsu soaking his shirt, no matter how cold it was.
He remembered Chibita taking him home with him. He remembered huddling in a shivering ball in Chibita’s bathtub and feeling the hot water leach away the very tip of that spike of panic. Chibita had fed him and washed his clothes and -- and he’d definitely put him in his own futon on the other side of the room. As many horrible, painful things as Karamatsu could remember, he could not remember how he’d gotten into Chibita’s futon.
“What?” he murmured to himself, lips ghosting against the fabric of Chibita’s pajamas.
And then Chibita stirred, arms tightening briefly before letting go all at once. “Ah! Shit!”
“What?” Karamatsu repeated. His voice was louder this time, more bewildered, and, because both of them had sat bolt upright in the futon, it was unencumbered by Chibita’s warm skin.
Chibita squinted at him for a moment, fists clenched at his sides, and then the lines around his eyes eased and he breathed out a long, slow breath. “Oh, it’s just you. You scared me, idjit,” he said, and he rubbed his arms against the morning chill.
“I--” Karamatsu broke off, absolutely sure he had to be blushing. “How did I get in…”
Chibita tilted his head to the side. “Eh? You don’t remember?”
Mutely, Karamatsu shook his head.
Chibita gave an easy shrug and then stretched his arms back behind his head. “You had a bad dream, I think. Came crawling into my bed at three in the morning,” he said, sounding matter-of-fact rather than annoyed.
Definitely, definitely blushing. “I did?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Well, that explained why he’d woken up like that, head pressed to Chibita’s chest. Maybe the guy had never really learned how to hold someone gently. Come to think of it, though, maybe Karamatsu just didn’t know how to be held. Both were equally possible. His shoulders hunched up a little at the thought. “Sorry, Chibita.”
And then, for the first time, the corners of Chibita’s mouth turned downward. “What for?” he asked. “It was a rough night.”
Karamatsu swallowed, and he could still feel the phantom ice there in his throat. Rough was one word for it.
Chibita watched him, eyes slowly progressing from hazy to alert. “So what are you going to do today?” he finally asked.
Karamatsu bit at his lower lip. He knew it wasn’t just a casual question. It was the first step forward in his new life. It was an opportunity that Chibita had given him, a precious opportunity, and he couldn’t waste it. “I don’t know.” Shit.
Chibita sighed, but he didn’t look particularly surprised. Karamatsu tried not to let that hurt too much. “Well, you can’t just sit in bed all day,” Chibita said, and Karamatsu noted dimly that he was starting to pluck at the covers. At least Karamatsu wasn’t the only one on edge. “Are you going to go back to your family?”
Ah. His family. He hadn’t had a chance to check his mobile yet, but he was almost sure that he’d find no messages when he did. Still, though, still. There was a part of him that felt hollowed out, scraped clean and tender, just waking up without them. Just being left alone with his own breath, and with Chibita’s. He knew that he should be strong, like Chibita. He should disentangle his fingers from his brothers’ and make his own way. It wasn’t as if they’d even miss him. It was so, so stupid to still feel so connected to them. And yet. And yet. Those lines of blood drawn in the sand, they’d been there since he had been born. They were soaked into him as sure as anything. And without them… What would even be left of him? “If I did,” he said lowly, “Would you judge me?”
“No,” Chibita said, and it was like something broke there behind his eyes. Was that disappointment? Was it pity? “You love them.”
Karamatsu nodded and curled his legs up underneath him absently. “Even if they don’t love me,” he said, and he’d meant it to come out jokingly, he really had. But there was no levity in those words. Just a cold, hard truth.
Chibita sighed. “You’re family, idjit. There has to be something there. Your brothers may be too shitty to see it, but you’re--” He broke off for a moment, clearly turning the words over in his mouth before he said them. “You’re better than them. Family means something to you,” he finally said.
Family meant something to Chibita, too, he knew. Family meant everything to Chibita. “Did you mean what you said? Last night?” Karamatsu asked.
“Yes,” Chibita said instantly. Then he made a little face and cocked his head to the side. “Which thing?”
“About… About you taking me. If they don’t want me,” Karamatsu said. The words were so ridiculous that they sounded false even to his own painful ears. Of course Chibita hadn’t meant them. He’d just said those things to talk him down from the edge.
Chibita was quiet for a long, long moment, and Karamatsu started to feel embarrassment squirming beneath his skin even as Chibita frowned down at the sheets. Then, finally, “I don’t say things I don’t mean, idjit.”
Karamatsu made a noise, a really stupid, choked noise. How embarrassing. How painful. “But--”
“But you can have more than one person, Karamatsu. Even if you want to go back to your family and -- and do whatever you assholes do, that won’t mean that I won’t want you anymore. I’ll still help you.”
And maybe, maybe Karamatsu really should have lain down for a little longer, because the world sort of felt like it was turning beneath him. “You will?” he asked.
“Of course, idjit,” Chibita said, and his smile was brittle. He looked like a wounded angel. “You’re always welcome at my cart. With or without your stupid brothers.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m not gonna give up on you. We’ll figure something out,” Chibita said, and Karamatsu could see it, could see the exact moment when Chibita swallowed down whatever it was he was feeling and burned away its traces with fiery determination.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Chibita said, and he inched his hand to the left, just enough that his fingers overlapped with Karamatsu’s. “It’ll be okay.”
Yeah. Karamatsu took in a slow, shuddering breath, and repeated the word to himself in his mind. Yeah, it would be okay. Chibita was there. He was strong and stable in the ways that Karamatsu had always wanted to be, and he was standing just a half step behind where Karamatsu felt suspended. He would catch him if he fell again. Or if he jumped.
Karamatsu curled his fingers around Chibita’s, and Chibita’s smile became a little truer. “You’ll be okay.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’ll be okay.