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Hisao brushed his fingers along Reigen’s forehead. He wasn't asleep, not with a thermometer sticking out of his mouth with Akane’s orders to keep it under his tongue, but he wasn't quite awake either, just blinking heavily, staring into the middle distance.
He recalls the scene he and Akane had walked in on. Shige running up to them, tearful and panicked, Ritsu standing next to the couch in silence with Reigen gasping against the side of the cushions. He had decided to go to the doctor after all but only after scaring the life out of his son. They had only been gone for about thirty minutes but that was apparently more than enough time for everything to go straight to hell. But it had all worked out in the end, the boys were in bed, with much protest from Shige, Akane was negotiating an emergency appointment with her personal doctor and Hisao was playing nursemaid to the exhausted man in his lap.
The thermometer beeped and when Hisao removed his hand from Reigen’s hair to take it, they both made a small sound of disappointment. 39.6 degrees. Still high. No higher than before, the fever seemed to be holding steady, but still much higher than it should be. The new medicine from the pharmacy hadn't done much. Even though they hadn't been able to provide any real relief for the fever so far, Hisao knew that physical touch went a long way towards grounding him. During movie nights, he and Shige would sit close enough that their legs touched, at least until Reigen dropped off. Hisao supposes that a year in captivity with only an evil spirit for company did not provide much in the way of human connection.
As Reigen drifted slowly towards unconsciousness his arms made to shift up towards the top of his head. Hisao placed a gentle, restraining palm on the limbs and moved them back down, holding the smaller pair of hands in his own for a moment to make sure they settled. Hisao knew there was damage from the prolonged time spent in cuffs at the end of a bed but he didn't know the true extent. He suspected only Shige really knew, but neither of them would talk about it and Hisao didn't press, not yet. What he did know is that his hands had lost dexterity, he had trouble holding things, and his shoulders were often painfully sore. Hisao frowned, Reigen never mentioned it and moved through the house doing chores slowly but regularly despite it. And silently. Both he and Shige were unnaturally quiet.
Before he could think much more about it Akane came into the room with a bowl of cool water, tea towel soaking inside, and a cup of coffee, placing both on the side table within easy reach.
“39.6.” Hisao sighed, taking a grateful sip from the mug, and Akane frowned, running the backs of her fingers down Reigen’s face, feeling the heat.
“The medicine didn't help.” it wasn't a question, just an acceptance. “She says she'll see him tomorrow. She wasn't happy about it, or me calling her personal number so late.” Hisao wrung the cloth loosely before placing it over Reigen’s forehead. Fever glazed eyes blinked open briefly before sliding back shut as he shuddered from the sudden cold, curling into himself weakly before relaxing back into sleep. “I don’t think we should leave him alone.” Akane whispered, voice full of worry. Hisao swallowed another mouthful of coffee, humming thoughtfully in agreement.
“I can stay up.”
Hisao passed the next few hours on his phone, standing watch over a fitful Reigen, replacing the cold cloth every so often and always keeping one hand moving in his messy hair. The fever and strangling discomfort in his chest didn’t let him sleep deeply or for very long and the long limbs moved restlessly under the blanket.
Just as Hisao thought he might close his own eyes, Reigen’s flew open as deep, wet coughs catapulted him out of sleep. His heart leaped into his throat as Reigen scrambled frantically, trying to sit up but failing, dizzy and coughing too hard to coordinate his body. Hisao turned and shoved him upright in a single motion with one hand splayed on the hot back and wrapped the other firmly around Reigen’s chest. He felt weak fingers gripping his arm for all they were worth as he slowly suffocated. He tried to sag forward and curl inwards, chest tearing apart with each violent eruption.
“Shh, shhhh, you can breathe.” Hisao moved his hand from back to forehead, gently rocking them both backwards so Reigen was reclining against his chest. He could feel him fighting for breath, could hear the horrible, strangled wheeze, could feel just how impossibly hard the coughing racked the body in front of him. Could feel the panic in the stiffness of those bony shoulders. Hisao drew Reigen’s head back against his own shoulder keeping his palm flat against his hair and breathed deeply so the sick man could feel it. “Just like that. Breathe with me, in and out.” He demonstrated again, and again until Reigen’s hands fell away from the arm over his straining chest and he calmed, or maybe he was close to passing out, his eyes were closed and the cough was weakening. “I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are still getting air, just in and out, come on.” He felt Reigen try, the stuttering gasp making his own heart clench again. “Okay, okay, good,” he praised, “now again. One at a time” His broad palm pet messy bangs back from his blazing forehead in encouragement until the attack finally subsided and Reigen was an exhausted, dead weight against him. The almost searing heat was uncomfortable but Hisao held him there, counting each labored, wretched breath with a hand curled loosely in his sweaty hair. He took a moment to calm his own pounding heartbeat, retrieving the tea towel and using it to wipe down Reigen’s slack, flushed face. They sat like that for a long time until he thought the man against him had fallen asleep again.
“‘M’sorry…” A breathless rasp, the cough had all but destroyed his throat.
“Hmm? What for?” Reigen gestured weakly down his body, hand falling limply at the end of it’s path. Hisao frowned, thankful Reigen couldn’t see his face. He was sure this was related to why he’d felt like he had to leave in the first place. He was just so sick, if Ritsu hadn’t found him when he did- “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he said gently, pulling up the blanket and settling it around trembling shoulders, “just try and get some rest.” Another long stretch of silence before Reigen spoke again, taking a difficult breath between every other word.
“‘M’too old for th’this.” Hisao was quiet a moment, using it as an opportunity to soak and replace the tea towel.
“I think,” he began slowly, feeling how Reigen was braced for his answer, waiting for the rejection he was so sure was coming. He cupped his hand over the already warm towel. “No one is too old to be cared for.” The tension ebbed out of Reigen like a tide and he swiped his eyes with an uncoordinated hand, turning his face into Hisao’s neck. There were no more words after that, just a gentle drift into sleep.
Late the next morning Hisao helped Reigen slip into one of his own sweaters in preparation to go to the doctor. He was quiet and lethargic, eyes closed, too focused on drawing breath into his body. It would seem his decision hadn’t come a moment too soon. The clothing was almost comically large and the thin man was positively swimming in it. They would have to go clothes shopping when he was feeling better. Hisao thanked Shigeo as he passed him a pair of thick socks, standing by with an old pair of sneakers. Akane came in through the front door.
“The car’s warmed up. Is he ready?” Shige nodded to her as Hisao hefted Reigen carefully in his arms, tucking him close.
“We’ll see you soon, Shige.”