Work Text:
koga knocks on the lid of the coffin.
there’s no answer, but he can hear some rustling, so he attempts to quietly raise the lid. he peeks inside. ah, he was right.
“‘wdyoughere”, senpai slurs and koga chooses to interpret it as how did you get there. a good question, considering it’s before six am.
by train.
because i couldn’t stop thinking about your stupid ass.
very fast.
“hopped over the gate”, he says instead, pursing his lips in a way that’s probably likely to make senpai laugh at least a little. (bingo!)
he brings his schoolbag to the front of the coffin and unzips it, revealing (senpai leans over to check, but only with his neck, so koga has a very strong association with a curious leon) a thermos of tea and some rice balls.
senpai clears his throat. “o”, he says weakly. koga supposes so. senpai coughs and sits up slowly, rubbing hands over his face as if he at least wanted to get rid of the upper layer of his skin. koga realizes that he’s not only still wearing the unit outfit, but the stupid gloves as well, and his chest squeezes stupidly in a pointless rush of love. what a moron. what a stupid idiot. sleeping in all this uncomfortable shit. he pushes the coffin lid away and stands up to quietly set it aside and gets an eyeful of senpai’s undead uniform clad legs. his own legs ache at the sight.
senpai is, meanwhile, still rubbing at his face, which at this point poses a risk of eyeball loss. koga decides to intervene.
“are you really comfortable, sleeping in that?”, he asks quietly, and when senpai looks up at him (with a sleeve imprint on his cheek), he nods back at his uniform. and, because it’s apparently torture koga oogami week, senpai looks down at himself and his lips form a small, surprised o. he frowns, and after a while stretches. several parts of his body emit ominous cracks.
“cmon”, koga says, reaching for senpai’s undead uniform—again, he looks at his forearms, brow furrowed in a way koga finds both hilarious and sad. eventually he raises his hands a little, just a little, and koga slides the jacket off his shoulders. he absentmindedly folds it and has to reach to put it away on the chair nearby.
the gloves part is almost intimate, or at least it certainly would be if senpai was at least in fourth part as gone for koga as koga is for him. his stupid palms are so pale, with long, cold fingers, that koga’s irrationally scared that he’ll somehow hurt him, even though he’s just taking his gloves off.
“pants too, this shit kills your circulation if you sleep in it”, he orders, hoping this is something senpai will take care of himself, but one more look tells him two things, namely that a/ this man is in no condition to take care of anything, including, or even especially, himself, and b/ this man is also wearing shoes. his long ass stupid unit uniform shoes oh my god he really just walked into the club room and passed out in his coffin. koga tells himself to be angry, this dumb leech is his senpai, even more than others, he should be able to—ugh.
well, it’s not like he doesn’t even try. he does, reaches to his shoes, but as he leans forward, he stops suddenly, with a wince and a muffled groan of pain and koga wants to… what’s the word? something something skin eichi tenshouin.
“you better be tired enough not to remember this”, he mutters angrily, feeling tiny prickles of a blush in his cheeks, and moves to take shoes off for a dude two years his senior. i didn’t wake up this fucking early for this, he thinks, even though—he did. he could barely sleep, hyperactive brain playing that botched fuckery of a live in a loop, and he couldn’t keep senpai’s deathly pale face out of his mind. there was something in his smile, too, something bitter and twisted that made koga’s heart clench. in fear.
so there he is, taking senpai’s shoes off for him, because he was still too fucked up for this.
he turns back to the coffin after setting the boots somewhere next to the chair and swears under his breath.
“seriously now? seriously?”, he says to the completely horizontal figure of sakuma rei, who flopped back in and looks like he has no intention of ever going back to anywhere near being vertical. “mgoin’tendyou”, koga mutters, takes a few calming (absolutely not calming) breaths and goes for it, praying senpai doesn’t wear loose boxers.
he doesn’t, but koga’s hands are still shaking and he even stops breathing for a while. that is until he has to lift senpai’s ass himself, because fuck cooperation, yeah?, and basically to the whole job himself. senpai’s legs are long, just as pale as his hands and saddeningly bony. you’re so stupid, he thinks, wanting—for the first time, probably—to get in the coffin, if only to warm senpai with his own body. not even in the, the sexual meaning, just warm him up. a few people told koga he’s like a living furnace, someone who’s clearly more dead than un- surely could use some of that.
there’s some shuffling, probably senpai rolling to the side, as koga looks through the shelves and cabinets for some blanket. there was one, he remembers back from cleaning them right after the school year started. instead, he finds senpai’s pe tracksuit, and that’s even better.
“this you’re gonna put on yourself, you hear?”, he grumbles, brushing the invisible dust off the tracksuit. what he hears in response is literally snoring, and he can’t fucking believe it. like in some fucking anime, seriously. like, some girl or whatever would probably call that snoring cute, but koga’s mostly fed up, really now.
he sighs.
“hey now”, he says quietly, shaking senpai’s arm. quietest, sleepiest noise. “wakey wakey, bastard”, he continues, and brushes hair off senpai’s face. that does it and senpai opens his eyes again, just as groggy as before. “aren’t you cold?” senpai’s eyes widen. “i have tea, come on, up!”
and that one works: senpai rises up on his hands and reaches not for the tea, but for the tracksuit. koga hands it to him, hoping he’s awake enough to deal with it on his own. that he is, but koga, in some irrational rush of idiocy, regrets not helping him with it, because now it’s like something’s closed off, like the time when he could touch him freely has ended and he is prohibited by law from moving senpai’s hair from under the collar of the jacket.
koga forces his eyes close for a moment and winces. no. no. he has no business touching senpai like they’re some kinda… mother and kid, besides, that bastard is, as noted, cold as fuck. koga tears his gaze from the sight of sakuma-senpai, trying to put on a tracksuit, and moves the other chair close, then uses it as a makeshift table, placing the tea and rice balls on it.
something like coherence flashes in senpai’s eyes when he sees them and he fumbles with his pants a bit faster. koga sits by the coffin, hands feeling strangely empty, and has… nothing to do. before coming here, he didn’t think about what would he do after taking care of senpai, or even how long would it take. he… didn’t really think about anything, to be honest, just barrelled here on sheer concern. and stupidity. and.
senpai reaches for the thermos and his fingernails clink against the metal; koga realizes, with less of a heart clench and more of a terrified hey that’s too much now, that his hands are shaking. without thinking, he grabs the flask first, fist almost knocking against senpai’s stupid old man hands, and unscrews it. pouring the tea in the little cup, he realizes there was a small kettle in one of the cabinets, probably brought here by senpai himself, along with some mugs, so he went a bit overboard with the thermos. but fuck, hopefully senpai won’t even remember it, he thinks.
and then he blows on the tea, because he’s the worst.
the thermos gets significantly lighter before senpai slows down with the tea and reaches for the rice balls, and they’re still cold, being kept in a refrigerator, so after that, he finishes the tea off. they don’t talk—koga isn’t sure senpai makes enough pauses between sips to breathe properly and he just looks at him, unsure what’s going on in his head at the moment. if anything, judging by that slightly unconscious look in his eyes.
truth be told, he’s not entirely sure what he’s thinking either. as in, as a whole. he’s pissed, sure, because you have to be a moron to neglect yourself so much, and then—senpai used to be stronger, sure, he still preferred being active at later hours, but for fuck’s sake, it never looked like that. he never looked almost dead, like a stupid preschool kid could knock him out, like—
koga thinks of nuna, that one time when she stepped into some glass during a walk and how he, eight or nine years old at the time, would insist on sleeping with her, hand on her bandaged paw, so she wouldn’t mess it up. he thinks of thinking that if he’s with her like this, it means he’s taking care of her, and that means she’s going to get better soon. he thinks about the fact that two years later, unrelated to this, she passed away—he knows—he saw—which probably has nothing to do with this situation.
so he thinks about something else. about senpai tying him up and shoving into a storage closet. he remembers hating him so much he could barely breathe or keep tears from his eyes; imagining being free and taking revenge, beating him up until the front of his uniform shirt is entirely red.
senpai coughs and koga blinks back to reality, taking the cup away from him as he struggles to take a breath, eyes wet.
koga thinks, childishly: it’s unfair. he’s not sure what, exactly. this. nothing. everything. but it is.
he clears his throat. “you alive?” senpai licks his lips and nods. “then go back to sleep. i’ll… maybe fix something to eat in the afternoon. you gotta eat, you hear?”
senpai doesn’t look like he does, already half asleep again, so koga clicks his tongue and—once again—without thinking, puts his hand on top of senpai’s. that gets him to look at koga, hell, even turn his head towards him.
“i’m serious”, koga says, gaze slipping down to senpai’s nose, because even when he’s barely conscious, he still has those eyes that do things to him. “if we’re gonna… help those idiots, or whatever, then you gotta be functional and that includes eating. and… sleeping at more normal hours, just get a hoodie if you’ve got this—”
koga looks up and almost says fuck out loud. senpai’s eyes are fully open and fixed at koga’s face, almost eerily so, and his lips are parted in an inhale.
koga says fuck in his head several times; he feels himself flush again, and, what’s even worse and even stupider, the hairs on his forearms stand up.
and then senpai, as if waiting for it to happen, as if to say thought you’re in charge here? fuck you, turns his cold hand under koga’s, squeezes his palm and brings it to his cheek.
i am going to kill myself, thinks koga oogami pathetically and then senpai’s eyelids flutter down, flush spreading on his cheeks. and he shudders.
he’s so pretty, thinks koga oogami.
let go of my fucking hand you decrepit fuck, thinks koga oogami.
go back to sleep, thinks koga oogami. fucking fuck fuck shit, he adds.
“you’re so hot”, senpai says, eyebrows knitting in concern as koga slowly ceases to exist, “are you okay?”
no!!!!,
koga thinks.
fuck yourself,
he adds.
“go to sleep”, he croaks, staring down the edge of the coffin, feeling his hand in senpai’s hand and on his cheek, feeling senpai’s skin move just a little as he blinks, as he closes his mouth. “you’re not making… any sense.”
a moment of silence, then senpai makes a quiet noise that could be qualified as acknowledging and then koga feels a tug on his arm and almost knocks his teeth out on the coffin.
senpai is horizontal. koga’s palm remains in his hand, on senpai’s cheek.
what the fuck are you doing, koga doesn’t say, catching his balance. the fuck’s wrong with you, he also doesn’t say.
senpai seems surprised himself, blinking twice very fast. koga bites his lip, because if he doesn’t, he’s going to say things. he wishes there was a way to bite his brain as well, to stop it from thinking things.
“stupid”, he says in the end. and “bye” as well as “i’m going”.
with those parting words, he goes indeed. into the coffin.
he experiences shock, because that’s not how it was supposed to be; senpai experiences shock, too, judging from his stupid face, or at least his brain does. the rest of him operates on autopilot and wraps itself around koga, and when senpai’s cheek touches koga’s chest (and koga’s under three layers not counting the tie, a clear contrast of black against senpai’s almost white face) and he still looks surprised, koga scoffs. or just lets out a noise of disapproval. well, certainly lets out a noise.
whimpers, really.
whatisgoingonthingsareveryweird koga’s brain shrieks, and they sure fuck are but that doesn’t stop his traitorous little fucks of hands from just—going—moving—and wrapping around senpai’s waist, too. it’s so small he’s so thin he’s almost unexistent koga thinks, having troubles breathing and his heart is beating fast, like, three hundred, three hundred something, and senpai could—should—must be—feeling it. then senpai’s eyes stop being wide and round and relax, even close, and koga might be hallucinating—wouldn’t be surprised at this point—but senpai looks like he’s cocking his head one milimeter to the side, as if saying ok, just: ok, and rolling with it. whatever it is. however you even roll with something you brought upon yourself.
koga licks his dry lips, forcing himself to breathe, exist slower. senpai’s hold on his waist is already softer and he can faintly smell the remnants of some flowery dry shampoo.