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Majima felt around in the dark, fumbling for his lighter. Damp and cold. Two sensations he hated the most. It brought him back to darker times; memories he would rather forget.
With a quiet flick and the hiss of his lighter's flame, he waited for his eye to adjust to the dim light.
He couldn't quite tell which alley he had passed out in, but his brain distantly seemed to recognize it. His head pounded as he lurched forward, narrowly avoiding falling onto his face, hands scraped up by the pavement.
Rain pelted down, rendering his lighter useless and causing everything to stick to him. His hair against his forehead, pants feeling entirely too tight, leather clinging to his legs uncomfortably. He was far too groggy and disoriented to even think about righting himself.
Majima blinked and smacked his palm against his forehead a few times, willing himself to remember how he'd ended up here.
He figured it must have been a fight, but there was no way in hell that Kiryu would've left him crumpled in an alley like that. If ever he found himself unconscious after a bout with him, he'd wake up in a motel room, sheets pulled up to his chin and his wounds cleaned and dressed.
He took a dizzying step forward, head spinning and stomach churning as he walked out onto the street. His eye burned as the bright neon lights assaulted him, signs with words he couldn't quite make out. He suspected he may have a concussion - nothing out of the ordinary for him.
People around him began to stare - at his battered face, and his torn clothing. He felt something warm dripping down his abdomen, distinct and different from the trickles of rain that ran alongside it. He touched a hand to his ribs and noted an alarming amount of blood as he raised it to his face.
"Kiryu-chaaaan..." He wailed, stumbling forward and leaning against the wall of a building for support. "Ya really gone and done it this time! I'm gonna die and it's yer own damn fault for not lookin' after me...!"
A woman walked along beside him, frantically speaking, covering him with her umbrella, but Majima just barely registered something in her babbling about blood and hospitals and he waved her away in annoyance. The last thing he needed was some bleeding heart civilian all up in his business.
His brains felt scrambled, and he was horribly nauseous on top of it all. Majima had already emptied the contents of his stomach on the sidewalk earlier, but it didn't stop him from ending up crouched in a side street, dry heaving as he tried to keep steady against the cracked concrete wall.
Majima laughed in spite of himself, feeling strangely giddy. The sudden exertion made his head spin even more, but the feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant, all things considered. At least it numbed the throbbing in his head for a brief moment.
He rolled backwards on his heels and lost his balance, toppling backwards with his feet stuck beneath his ass. Rain pelted down on his face as he stared up into the dark night sky. It was a sobering moment, but that also happened to mean that the pain had started to overwhelm him with his newfound clarity.
Grunting with exertion, Majima pushed himself upright, leaning his head against the wall. His legs spread out in the puddle of filthy water beneath him, now vaguely aware that the weight in the breast pocket of his jacket was a cellphone.
The chances of it still working after everything it'd been through that night were slim, but he reached in his pocket and fumbled with it for a moment anyways. It only took a moment to realize that he wasn't coherent enough to use it. He desperately tried to remember Nishida's phone number, but even on a good day he couldn't seem to do as much.
0... 9... 6... What was the rest of the number?
Didn't he normally just press a button? Nishida had called it something... Speedy... Speed dial. Right.
Majima held down a key and hoped for the best, listening for a quiet ringing before raising the phone to his ear. It wasn't long before a groggy voice answered, and Majima wasted no time with pleasantries.
"Nishida, I'm... fucked. I mean really... really fucked. Get yer ass over here 'n find me. Somebody beat the snot outta me and I ain't even sure which way is up." He grimaced in pain as he turned his head a little too quickly.
" Majima no niisan? "
Majima clenched his jaw. That voice... He hadn't called Nishida.
"Where are you?" The voice echoed, sounding strange and hollow through the phone, but still distinct enough for Majima to know exactly who sat on the other end.
"I'm fine." He grit his teeth. The last thing he needed was Kiryu coming to his rescue. Especially not tonight.
Kiryu grunted dismissively. "That's not what you said a second ago. Tell me where you are, Majima-san, I'll come and get you." There was a loud shuffling indicating that Kiryu had already begun getting ready; slipping out of bed, throwing on a shirt and jacket.
Resigned, and with little choice, Majima dragged himself across the pavement, trying to look for landmarks. He sighed and lay his head against the ground, gritty muck covering his cheek. "There's a bunch of kids starin' at me."
"Are you near the arcade?" Kiryu sounded concerned, but Majima was sure it had more to do with the kids' wellbeing than his own.
Majima groaned as he rolled onto his side. "Prob'ly."
He heard the distant sound of his shoes pounding over metal, accompanied by Kiryu's uneven breathing, and concluded that he must be running down stairs. A fire escape. "Can you meet me near the entrance of Tenkaichi?"
Majima let out a breathy laugh. "Wouldn'ta called if I could get there on my own." His stomach lurched again, and he spat bile onto the ground beside him.
Kiryu's breathing was ragged, heavy footfalls sounding against the pavement as he hurried towards Majima. "I thought you didn't mean to call me..." He panted, his voice deadpan.
Majima attempted to prop himself up against the wall, shoving at the wet ground in a one-sided brawl with himself. His arm gave out, bringing him down hard on his shoulder and splashing filthy water all over his face. "Ah, shit."
The phone disconnected, followed by a piercing beeping noise. He looked around, and his eye fell upon a rather wet, disheveled looking Kiryu.
He hurried over and crouched down beside Majima. Had it been any other night, Majima might have cared more about Kiryu seeing him in this state; might've pushed him away or even thrown a punch. But tonight he let himself be picked up, with Kiryu carefully supporting his neck like an infant. It was humiliating, yet somehow Majima felt a great relief wash over him. The warmth of Kiryu's heaving chest burned against his chilled, wet self.
Majima couldn't even bring himself to laugh at the sight of Kiryu in sweats beneath his suit jacket.
They hurriedly made their way across town, and Majima vaguely registered Kiryu hailing a taxi, but the majority of the time that he remembered being cradled in Kiryu's arms was spent in a state of half-consciousness. His head throbbed, lights blurred and spun around him, melding together in one big blob of colour. Majima was glad that his stomach was empty, else he would've been sick all over Kiryu's chest.
There was a long stretch where he fell unconscious, until he was jostled awake by Kiryu stopping to toe off his shoes. The sound of his bare feet padding across a wooden floor replaced the loud and boisterous noises of the city. Darkness surrounded them, and he felt Kiryu lay him down somewhere soft.
He chanced a brief look around, but all that he could make out clearly was Kiryu sitting near him, his dark hair plastered to his forehead - it was surprisingly long when it wasn't gelled back.
Warm hands grazed across his chest, feeling out the damage done. His jacket was removed - or rather, what was left of it - and he felt his arms being gently lifted and examined.
Kiryu was exceedingly gentle with him; far more gentle than was necessary for a man like Majima. Kiryu had hands like a doctor, different from a typical yakuza thug's. Calloused, rough, scarred; but somehow still soft and nurturing. " Like a father, " Majima thought.
He was partially to blame for dragging Kiryu into this life - always egging him on, forcing him into brawls that got his heart racing. But he knew that Kiryu's want for a normal life was what grounded him; made him different. Kiryu didn't crave money, status, or power. He wanted his loved ones to be safe and happy much more than anything that could be acquired for himself. It infuriated Majima. So much wasted potential.
Kiryu hesitated for a moment, hovering above Majima as he tended to his injuries. He nudged the side of his cleanly bandaged face, wordlessly asking a question that Majima was too disoriented to decipher the meaning of. He paused for a good long while before appearing to make up his mind.
The pressure across his gut subsided as his belt was unbuckled, then his pants undone. Kiryu struggled to pull the soaked leather off of him, and Majima clenched his jaw, grimacing with discomfort. He tried to crack a joke to ease the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding them, but nothing seemed to come of it.
So now here they were. Majima, stripped down to his underwear and laying half-conscious on Kiryu's bed, both covered in filth and soaked to the bone.
Kiryu's face was set in a scowl as he glanced over Majima's battered form.
"What're we doin', Kiryu-chan...?" Majima rasped, blinking his eye open with great effort.
He ran his hand over the scrapes on Majima's knees. "I'm helping you out. Don't get the wrong idea."
"The wrong idea?" Majima shifted himself to better see Kiryu's face. He was pursing his lips. "Never said anything like that. I mean... I ain't exactly in the best state for what yer thinkin' anyways, Kiryu-chan."
He tried to laugh, but all he accomplished was making himself feel sick again. "Why're ya helpin' me? Rushin' over like it was the end of the world... Makes a guy feel cared for. Ya didn't have to do that for me."
"I could never ignore a call like that. It wouldn't matter who you were." Kiryu said bluntly, wrapping bandages a little too tightly around Majima's leg. "Did you seriously expect me to sleep easy knowing you were out on the street like this?"
"Could'a checked me into the hospital."
Kiryu froze.
He stared blankly at the wall for an excruciatingly long moment. When he spoke next, his voice sounded vulnerable and quiet. He rested his hand on Majima's thigh and looked away. "Not after I saw the extent of it all."
So he knew then. What had really happened.
"Ain't the first time, certainly ain't gonna be the last. I don't need your pity." Majima shoved his hand away, startling Kiryu. The sudden jolt of movement dizzied him, and he felt his stomach clench worryingly.
Kiryu grabbed his shoulder, but released it again just as quickly when Majima grimaced in pain.
"It's just a whack on the head and a few scrapes," Majima insisted, waving his hand dismissively, "Both'll be healed up in a day or two. You got more'n me on yer plate, so just forget about it." He moved to get up, but the combination of his muddled brain and the pressure on his chest stayed him. He closed his eye and tried to ground himself, steadying his breathing.
Kiryu perched on the edge of the bed, his back pressing up against the side of Majima's hip. "If you think you can make it home safe, I'll lend you some clothes. I know I can't stop you." He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back into a weak imitation of its usual style. "But I'd rather you lay low here. I'm not an idiot, injuries like that don't come of just any street brawl." Wisps of hair fell back down across Kiryu's forehead. His brow creased with worry as he looked down at Majima's blank expression.
Majima stayed silent, listening to the sound of his own strained breathing. He didn't trust himself to respond.
With a sigh, Kiryu stood and walked to his dresser, pulling out a clean pair of sweats and plain t-shirt. He shucked off his soaked jacket and shirt, threw them over the dresser to dry, then slipped on the t-shirt in its place.
He tossed the sweatpants over to Majima, then turned his back and removed his own. Majima tried with little success to find the leg hole, feeling utterly useless as he fumbled with the dark bundle of fabric in his hands.
It took a few tries, but he finally managed to pull on the borrowed pants. He appreciated Kiryu busying himself until he could get them on; he wasn't sure how much more humiliation he could handle tonight, and having Kiryu dress him like an incapable child may have been the final blow to his already decimated ego.
Kiryu stood beside the bed with his hands on his hips, staring down at Majima. He looked almost as exhausted as Majima felt. "What?" He questioned, struggling to keep his eye focused.
"That's my spot."
"Ah, 'course." Majima scoffed, "Kick the half-dead guy out right after ya say yer piece about helpin' him... I see how it--"
Kiryu lifted him with one swift motion, setting him down closer to the wall. He drew the covers back and fit himself next to Majima, facing the opposite way. "You're the one that woke me up. Stay if you want."
"Not like I have a choice now..." Majima mumbled, muffled by Kiryu's shoulder.
The bed, meant for a single person, was not ideal for two fully grown men. It took a tremendous amount of effort to extricate his arm from in between himself and Kiryu, who was significantly broader than him. The close proximity was what made him more uncomfortable than anything, not because he was at all afraid of Kiryu - quite the opposite - but there in the darkness of an unfamiliar bedroom, confined to the small space next to Kiryu, memories began to surface.
Heat, musty suits, expensive whiskey. Visceral fear. The feeling of being trapped with no way out. Total subservience. Pain like he'd never felt before.
He backed himself against the wall and scrabbled at his left eye, tearing at his eyepatch with both hands, nails raking across his cheek frantically.
Pain. The smell of sweat. A bed that isn't his own. Pain. His wrists, bound in shackles. Vulnerability. Humiliation. Pain. Toothy grins and scarred faces. Guns, knives, bats, and everything else imaginable. Pain. His body, broken and aching, tear tracks carved into the grime on his face; not from fear, but from grim determination.
His fingernails dug deep, and he choked and gasped at the new pain surfacing. Sweet pain.
"Oi! What the--?!" Kiryu sat up with a jolt, startled. He wrestled Majima's hands away from his face with great effort, pinning them against his chest. "Majima-san!"
Majima's eye was wide and unfocused. He looked more unhinged than Kiryu had ever seen him before. He wrenched his arms from Kiryu's grip and sat upright against the wall, breathing heavily, his limbs curled in against his body protectively.
Having recognized the signs from his own bouts of PTSD, Kiryu backed off, giving him space to cool down. He didn't want to set it off again, but he couldn't exactly stand by and let Majima tear his face apart either.
He gave it a minute, then hesitantly reached out to touch his arm. When he didn't flinch away, Kiryu shifted closer, testing the waters. He pulled back the sheets and covered Majima with them, running his hand along his tensed shoulders as he did so. He shook ever so slightly, but it was restrained, as if he were trying to suppress it in order to avoid appearing weak in front of Kiryu.
Majima allowed himself to lie down, his fingers clenching around Kiryu's wrist. He stared straight at him, unseeing eye still wide with fear.
He shoved Kiryu back and punched him repeatedly with both fists, like a toddler having a temper tantrum. Kiryu allowed it, making no effort to restrain him.
When he'd finally stopped, Kiryu shuffled backwards, giving him space to get up. To his surprise, Majima shifted towards him.
He leaned his forehead against Kiryu's chest, the sheets obscuring a majority of his face, and lay there quietly for a long while. He listened to Kiryu's quiet, steady breathing; the only other sound audible in the small apartment.
Kiryu chanced a hand on his back, feeling the knots beneath his skin. When he was met with no resistance, Kiryu pulled him closer, cradling him against his chest. Majima's ragged breaths were hot even through the fabric of his t-shirt.
Slowly but surely, his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, and they were left lying together under the covers.
"Ain't never been held like this before." Majima said quietly. He swallowed, feeling the weight of the words settling on him. It made him feel too vulnerable. "Personally ain't one for aftercare. Too much of a hassle."
"Not if you're with the right person." Kiryu said solemnly. His fingers grazed Majima's shoulder blade, eliciting a shiver.
Majima closed his eye, listening to the rhythmic beat of Kiryu's heart. "What're ya implying, Kiryu-chan?" He asked quietly, "Ya think you're the right person ? For what, exactly?"
Despite how quickly he'd responded to Majima's deflection, he hadn't thought much about the comment before he'd spoken. Kiryu mulled it over, his thumb stroking down across Majima's ribs. Was he the right person for Majima? All things considered, they hardly knew much about each other; at least, Kiryu really didn't know much about Majima. He guessed that Majima had a much better handle on him from all the stalking he did.
"Does it feel right?" He asked, more out of personal curiosity than as a reassurance to Majima.
He muttered a few choice words under his breath, beyond annoyed with Kiryu's question. "Yer askin' me? The hell am I supposed to say to that, Kiryu-chan? Ya want me to say yes?" There was a quiet vulnerability to his voice that Kiryu was unused to. It made him feel almost guilty for prying.
Kiryu hummed thoughtfully. He could drop it. They'd go back to their usual antics, Majima would continue to instigate fights, Kiryu would reciprocate. He looked down at Majima, who was still grasping at his shirt with a grim look on his face. "Maybe."
"Ask me again when my head stops spinnin'." He grumbled, squashing his face against Kiryu's chest. "And don't go diggin' for meanin' in anythin' that happened or might still happen tonight. I dialed ya by accident. I shouldn't even be here."
Kiryu wrapped his other arm around Majima, pulling him into a tight hug. The fact of the matter was that Kiryu was just as starved of this intimacy as Majima. He supposed it was selfish, but there were worse things to be in that moment.
His hand cradled the back of Majima's head, thumb running gently across the stubbly nape of his neck. He leaned into it, and had it been possible, Kiryu thought Majima might have purred at the contact. It was a small and involuntary movement, but Kiryu felt pleased regardless.
Majima finally relaxed into the contact, letting out a resigned sigh. "Fine, ya got me. But this don't mean nothin'!"
Kiryu slid his fingers into Majima's hair, still damp from the rain, and Majima looked up at him, eye half-lidded with exhaustion. He leaned closer, but paused as Majima's face went blank. Something was wrong. Kiryu's heart pounded in his chest as he felt Majima's stuttered breath on his lips.
He couldn't put his finger on what had set off warning signals, but something made him back off, concern creasing his brow. Majima blinked in confusion, quickly mirroring Kiryu's frown.
"What, now yer stoppin'? Ain't this what ya wanted?" He snarled as he talked, revealing his sharp canines. It would have been intimidating under any other circumstance, but for Kiryu, it only made him more sure of the situation.
He pushed himself back far enough to take in the entirety of Majima's face. His neatly trimmed beard almost hid the scrapes that peppered his chin, and a series of nasty bruises had begun to bloom on his cheek bone, just visible under his eyepatch. His hair was stringy, dampness causing it to stick to his forehead in places. The bandage that Kiryu had plastered to his cheek was mottled with bloody patches.
"Is this what you want, niisan?"
Majima tilted his head down, huffing in annoyance. "Why's it always have to be question after question with ya, Kiryu-chan? I'm askin' ya why yer treatin' me like some delicate little doll here! I ain't soft, ya know; I can take a beatin' and be alright in a day or two. Ya don't gotta fuckin' coddle me." He extricated his arm from beneath his body and pushed Kiryu back away from him. "Yer sendin' out mixed signals, and I don't play like that."
Kiryu's frown deepened. " I'm giving mixed signals? You're the one refusing to be honest!" He'd felt anger bubbling to the surface, but every time he looked back to Majima's eye, it subsided. Nothing could convince him that Majima truly wanted him to take control in this situation; there was fear in his face. "If you're expecting me to force myself on you..." He swallowed thickly as he watched a flicker of something primal appear in Majima's eye, "I won't. You've got my word."
Majima's jaw clenched, and crinkles appeared around his eye as he shut it tight. He lunged suddenly at Kiryu, shaky fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer into his grasp. Their faces collided, Kiryu's nose crunched painfully against Majima's and his breath hitched, both from the pain and from the lack of air. He choked as Majima stuck his tongue down his throat, combative, challenging Kiryu to fight back.
Once he'd gotten his bearings, he shoved Majima off of him, sending him back into the wall with a grunt of pain. Kiryu panted heavily, his face hot with anger and embarrassment. He launched himself off the bed, pacing side to side, keeping his back to Majima. He couldn't look at him, let alone stand feeling his body heat next to him.
He steadied his breathing, hunched over with his hands obscuring his face. His brain worked overtime thinking over everything that'd happened. He hadn't expected Majima to go this route, but logically, he should have seen it coming. Majima was unpredictable, and there was no telling what he'd do when he deemed himself backed into a corner.
"You know what I want?" Kiryu finally spoke, breaking the silence with determination, "I want to sleep. I want you to sleep, and I hoped both of us could do that better if I brought you here with me. I don't know who's after you, or why, but that's not my business, and I can tell that you don't want me to get involved." His voice softened as he turned to look at the Mad Dog, crumpled against his bedroom wall, "So please, Majima no niisan... get some rest."
He watched as Majima wordlessly lay down, as small and unimposing as he could manage on the edge of the bed. Regret and guilt swirled in Kiryu's stomach as he realized that Majima had likely been on guard from the start. He'd clearly thought Kiryu had something in mind, and couldn't fathom why he'd do anything strictly for Majima's sake. To him, there must have been some nefarious ulterior motive.
Kiryu sat down on the edge of the bed, not quite ready to commit to laying down again.
A laugh spilled out of Majima; it was cold and hollow, and just hearing it made Kiryu's hairs stand on end. "Kiryu-chan... I'm fucked... really, really fucked," he echoed the words he'd said hours ago in the rain, his voice steady, yet still sounding unhinged, like someone else was speaking through his mouth. Kiryu turned to look at him, only to find his eye wide and unfocused, fists clenched by his gut.
It caught Kiryu off guard, to see someone that he feared and respected in such a state. He lay down beside him and reached for his hand; a thin trickle of blood ran down his palm from where he'd dug his nails in. He made no effort to stop Kiryu from unfurling his fingers one by one, threading them through his own.
"Do ya... think ya could hold me, Kiryu-chan? Like ya did before...?" He squeezed his fingers around Kiryu's, as if physically asking permission for the contact.
Kiryu pulled Majima closer, snaking an arm around behind his back. Their entwined hands rested on Majima's chest, his heartbeat thrumming beneath. Kiryu hoped that Majima would feel safe in his arms, rather than threatened.
Majima looked up at Kiryu, his eye roving around and taking in the details. His gaze lingered on his lips for a moment, then guiltily looked away. "Thought it might... ease yer doubts if I showed ya I was willin' to make the first move." His chest rumbled with the deep baritone of his voice, "Guess all it did was make it worse. Ain't had much experience with men outside a few... times."
He swallowed as the state of Majima's battered body entered his mind. He ran his fingers carefully over the bandage wrapped around his torso. "Majima-san... I don't expect anything from you." To Kiryu, anyone who took advantage of others was in the wrong, no matter what the circumstances may have been. Hearing Majima's reasoning behind his advances only served to make him that much more relieved that he hadn't allowed it to progress. Sex and intimacy weren't a reward to Kiryu; what mattered to him was the happiness of his partner; whoever that may be. "All I want now is to track these bastards down and slam them under a chair or two."
"It ain't your battle to fight, Kiryu-chan. I can take care of myself." His voice remained low; almost dangerously so. Kiryu had no doubt that he'd serve them his own brand of revenge once he was healed. He suppressed a shiver, knowing all too well what it was like to be on the receiving end of Majima's tantō.
Kiryu sighed, closing his eyes and feeling a wave of exhaustion washed over him. "Still pisses me off." He pressed his face to Majima's temple and unthinkingly kissed the bare skin above his bandage. Majima stiffened in his arms, but remained silent.
He shifted slightly, turning to better face Kiryu. The corners of his mouth were down-turned, and he looked serious; angry, even. "Not everyone wants a damn hero. I ain't lookin' for a white knight to come save me, Kiryu-chan. I ain't some helpless civilian, I'm your superior. If ya don't stay outta my way on this, I'll kill ya."
Before Kiryu could offer up a rebuttal, he found his mouth swept up by Majima's for the second time that night. His hand flew up to push him away out of reflex, but he'd forgotten that it was held by Majima, who pushed back, squeezing his hand reassuringly.
Unlike their first kiss, this one was brief, and Majima was surprisingly gentle, even as he nipped at Kiryu's top lip while he pulled back. He pressed another kiss to the corner of Kiryu's mouth, their stubbled chins rasping together as he worked up to his cheek. Kiryu couldn't bring himself to relax, still on edge from the last attempt. Majima brought their hands to his mouth and kissed Kiryu's knuckles, but it only seemed to make him stiffen more.
"Would ya relax? It's no fun if ya look like I just kicked a puppy," Majima sighed, far too tired to feel frustrated. "Do ya need a written consent form? The hell do ya want from me?"
Kiryu stared him dead in the face. "Earlier, I asked you if it felt right... I want an answer, niisan."
"Oh fer--"
"Because it doesn't feel right to me. I've got a feeling in my gut that keeps telling me no, and I trust that feeling. So I want to know what your gut's telling you, Majima-san."
Majima leaned back with a groan and threw an arm over his face, covering his eye. "My gut's tellin' me I should throw up on ya, but luckily I ain't got anythin' left in there." His mouth twitched into something akin to a smile, and Kiryu felt the tension lessen slightly.
He let out a breath he'd unknowingly been holding in the form of a light chuckle. "I'll treat you to breakfast in the morning."
Majima looked incredulous. "You what ? Are you plannin' on tryin' to keep me around that long? Bein' all domestic 'n shit? The hell is this? I thought ya brought me back here to dine 'n dash, not pay for the whole damn restaurant!"
It may have been funny if there wasn't a deeply troubling edge to it. "I brought you here because I was worried about you, I didn't expect anything more, and I still don't. If you're hungry, I'll get you something now--"
"Wh-- no, fer real, what the hell is this?! Whaddaya really mean, Kiryu-chan? Ya think ya can keep gettin' away with butterin' me up like this? Ya keep sayin' ya ain't expectin' anything but I'm-- I'm literally in yer fuckin' pants here," he lifted his leg with some effort, gesturing to the sweats he'd been lent, "ya think I don't know what this is?"
"They're pants." Kiryu replied, deadpan.
"Yeah! Your pants, on my ass! What the shit is this?!" His eye was wild and his free hand waved around like he didn't know what to do with it. "What's yer deal?! Yer tryin' to tell me ya got no selfish reason to do this for me? Ya don't want to pound me senseless? It don't add up... everybody wants somethin' Kiryu-chan, ya gotta want somethin' from me..."
Kiryu grabbed hold of his free arm and restrained it with his own. "Is it really that hard to believe me when I say it's because I care about you?"
"Yes!"
"Well that's my reason, take it or leave it. Would you shut up and go to sleep now?" He felt bad for being harsh with Majima while he was in such a manic state, but his irritability from lack of sleep was taking a toll on his mood. "How am I supposed to feel okay about fooling around with you after what you just went through?"
He brought their hands together, staring into Majima's gaunt face with as much sincerity as he could muster. "All this, and you've got a knife wound in your side, niisan... At the very least, we know the pain killers are working."
Majima's face softened, and it appeared that he'd finally gotten the message. "I told ya, I've been through worse... but... sorry for doubtin' ya, Kiryu-chan. Guess I should be grateful ya aren't a creep and leave it at that."
Kiryu screwed up his face. "Thanks...?" He released his hold on Majima's hands and shifted away from him, leaving a gap between their bodies that felt unbearably cold. Kiryu rolled over to face the door, feeling like any other action would be strange with the way they'd just resolved everything.
Fingers hovered by his waistband, but he stayed quiet and waited, unsure of what Majima would do.
Surprisingly, he placed his hand gingerly on Kiryu's hip and inched closer, pressing his forehead against the back of Kiryu's neck. Majima sighed, his breath gently tousling Kiryu's hair. He shifted, and Kiryu could swear when Majima had settled again that he'd taken off his eyepatch.
With every inhale, his chest brushed against Kiryu's spine. Their hands had rejoined on his hip. Majima's knee nudged against the back of Kiryu's leg, and before long their limbs were a tangled mess. Majima kissed Kiryu's shoulder through the fabric of the t-shirt with as much wordless affection as he could give.
He leaned in a little further, kissing the corner of Kiryu's jaw, feeling it work beneath the skin. Kiryu tilted his head just far enough to kiss the side of Majima's nose, which he apparently found funny enough to spiral into a fit of cackles, much to Kiryu's embarrassment.
Not long after he'd quieted down, Kiryu carefully shifted onto his side, chancing a look only to see him sleeping peacefully. Kiryu ran his thumb over the tiny hairless spot in his eyebrow where the strap of his eyepatch normally rested; if he hadn't known the story of how the "Mad Dog of Shimano" had lost his eye for insubordination, he might've questioned whether he had lost it at all. The skin was undamaged, but pale, with delicate veins webbing visibly across his eyelid. It struck Kiryu that in order for his eyelid to be unscathed, the blade must have pierced his eye while it was open. The thought made him reflexively reach up to touch his own undamaged eyelid.
He paused for a second, listening to Majima's quiet breathing. It was strange for him to be so still and silent, considering the amount of energy that the air always seemed to crackle with while he was around. He had begun to think Majima never rested - maybe there was some truth to that, considering his bad habits and sunken eyes.
Kiryu pulled Majima close and pressed a kiss to his lips, immensely glad that he didn't wake up at the contact. He traced the mottled bruises on the cheekbone beneath Majima's missing eye, scraped and bloodied by his blunt fingernails as he'd relived his past trauma earlier that evening.
He had to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn't be able to have Majima's back at all times, but at the very least he could offer him one safe, comfortable night by his side.