Chapter Text
Kaito closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, feeling joints in his shoulders and upper back popping as he rakes his hands down his face, feels the scratchiness of his stubble against his palms, and yawns. It’s getting closer to three in the morning than two by now, according to the blinding red numbers blinking from the digital clock on his nightstand, but the assignment that he finally finished wrapping up has kept him up. And he’s had to stay up to finish it, because it’s due tomorrow afternoon before the lecture. He’s not the type to procrastinate, not usually, because he finds it irresponsible to put things off, but he’s been busy the past couple days, and it’s been hard to squeeze in time to finish up the second half of the assignment.
College has already been particularly hectic, but it’s not like staying in the dorms is free, despite the fact that Kaito is here on scholarship, and so between working at the frozen yogurt shop on campus and trying to maintain a half-decent social life, he’s been too beat, recently, to sit down at work on homework upon returning to his dorm room. Kaito casts a longing look at his bed but manages to tear his eyes away. He’d better shower first, wash the crusty hair gel out now that he’s had it in too long, brush his teeth and floss and all that. Maintaining good personal hygiene is a priority. People who are in the position to take good care of themselves but don’t make Kaito upset. He shouldn’t sacrifice his integrity just because he’s a bit tired.
Kicking his desk chair to the side, Kaito ambles over to the closet and grabs a clean towel and a new pair of boxers. Clothes he can worry about in the morning (he doesn’t use pajamas) but the boxers are a must because sleeping naked is… arguably a very normal thing, but not Kaito’s favourite. Especially not with the borderline paper-like sheets the dorms provide. He can handle it in most places, but some things he just has to keep his undies on for.
As he’s about to step into a bathroom, a sharp knock sounds at the door to his room, and Kaito turns around, frowning. Who the hell is at his door right now? Tossing his boxers and towel onto the lid of the toilet, he pads back out into the room, looking at the clock again. It’s five minutes ‘til. Forget being at his door, who’s even awake? Kaito grabs his phone from the nightstand, checking to see if he’s missed any calls or text messages (he turned his ringer off so that he could focus on homework) but the only message he’s gotten was from his friend Shuichi, and it came in about an hour ago. Just a meme about that detective movie he dragged Kaito to last week. It elicits a snort from him, but then there’s another knock at his door, so Kaito drops his phone onto the bed and walks over, not wasting any time in yanking it open.
“Oh.” Kaito frowns without meaning to, feels his brow begin to furrow. “What’s up, Amami?”
They’re not good friends-- or even really friends at all, more like friendly acquaintances because they’re both taking a geology class that convenes every two weeks. Rantaro is a student at this university part-time, to Kaito’s knowledge; he’s never around campus, and there’s only been an assortment of lectures that he’s actually heard of the guy attending, but he hasn’t missed a single geology lecture. They definitely don’t have the kind of friendship that would warrant late-night dorm visits. Not at three in the morning, or not in general. Kaito didn’t even realise Rantaro knew where his dorm room was.
Though, now that he’s getting a better look at the guy, Rantaro looks rough. He’s resting a hand on the doorframe, as though to keep himself on his feet, and he’s smiling sheepishly, but Kaito catches a flicker of pain as it makes its way across his features. His other arm is laid across his midsection, and since they’re standing relatively close together, Kaito can hear how labourious his breathing is. They don’t know each other, but Kaito thinks it’s acceptable to be a little bit worried, considering how every time he’s seen Rantaro around, the guy has had a carefree smile on his face.
“Momota, hey,” Rantaro gets out. “Sorry-- I think I have the wrong dorm.” He pushes himself off the doorframe, and it’s subtle, but Kaito catches the way that he winces when he lowers his arm to his side. He looks tired. “I don’t live on campus, so it’s kind of-- anyway, do you-- by chance-- know where Mukuro Ikusaba rooms? It’s alright if you don’t, I’ll find it the place, but--”
“I don’t,” Kaito interrupts, frowning. “Dude, are you okay? What happened?”
“Huh?” Rantaro raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” Kaito suppresses the urge to scoff. The ego on this guy. Anybody with eyes could probably tell that something happened. Rantaro appears to read it on Kaito’s face, because when he smiles, it’s a bit embarrassed. “That bad, huh? Don’t worry about it. Just, uh, ran into a bit of trouble on a trip.” His tone is evasive. Kaito gets the impression that pushing wouldn’t really get him anywhere. Besides, it’s not his place. It’s not like they’re really friends. He should probably just say okay and close the door.
That doesn’t really feel right, though, because there’s no real way for Rantaro to find his friend’s dorm. He could go around knocking on every door, but while Kaito doesn’t think any of the other people living here are necessarily bad, he can’t say that it’s safe for someone to do while injured. Plus, if he’s being honest with himself, Rantaro looks like he’s about to keel over. Just-- maybe not. “Look, why don’t you just come in, man?”
Rantaro gives him a skeptical look. “It’s okay, Momota, I’d really--”
“You look like shit,” Kaito says. They don’t know each other well and maybe it’s not the most tactful, but there’s no point lying when it’s three in the morning and Kaito is in the position to help. He knows a thing or two about this sort of thing, so it’s not like he’ll be useless at it. “If you don’t need to go to a hospital or anything, I could just fix you up and you could crash here until it’s light out and you can head back to your apartment or whatever. I don’t know if I feel okay just closing the door right now, y’know?”
“I really don’t want to impose.” Rantaro frowns.
“What?” Kaito shrugs. “We’re both guys, right?” That doesn’t really mean anything. It might’ve, back in high school, when Kaito was in blatant denial about his sexuality, but nowadays he’s willing to admit to his bisexuality. What he means to say is it doesn’t mean anything because we’re hardly even friends but that’s not really the way that he talks. Plus, he doesn’t want to make Rantaro feel awkward about any of this. It’s not a huge deal. There’s a long moment of silence, during which Rantaro is clearly weighing his options, but Kaito’s never been one for excessive rumination. “Here,” he kicks his door further open with one foot and reaches out, grabbing Rantaro’s arm and dragging him inside.
To Rantaro’s credit, he hardly protests; probably too tired to really say anything. The smile he gives as Kaito closes the door is chagrined, but he makes his way further into the room regardless. It’s a quality that Kaito can appreciate in a person, the ability to understand when a conversation is over. Kaito is stubborn, and he likes other stubborn people, but that doesn’t mean it’s very easy to change his mind when he’s made it up.
“You can sit down on my bed, I have a first aid kid in the bathroom.” Kaito calls over his shoulder after locking the door and heading back into the bathroom. He avoids eye contact with himself in the mirror and instead grabs the kit from the cupboard. It isn’t anything super fancy, but it’s definitely better stocked than the average person’s. Rantaro seems to think so, at least, based on the raised-eyebrow look he shoots Kaito when the kit is opened.
“Are you in training to be a doctor, Momota?”
“Pfft, are you kidding?” Kait shakes his head, grinning. “Like I’d be able to do that stuff with such a shabby collection. If I was really training to be a doctor-- and I totally could, by the way--”
“I believe you,” Rantaro assures, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender-- and then wincing, rolling one of his shoulders, and lowering them back down to his sides.
“--I’d have a more stocked kit,” he continues, ignoring the intervention. “I’m going to school to work with JAXA.”
“Oh, an astronaut-in-training, huh?” smiles Rantaro.
“Sorta,” Kaito chuckles. What he doesn’t say is that one too many hospital trips throughout middle and high school probably shot his chances of going to space forever. Having asthma (which he does) is one thing, but recovering from a full-on respiratory disease doesn’t help him any. No, it’s mission control for Kaito Momota. But he’ll do that well, too. Instead, he says, “I’ve always had a penchant for looking at rocks,” and grins up at Rantaro as he pulls out one of the unopened salves he has in the kit. He’d use one that’s already opened, but that stuff probably has dried skin particles and shit in it. No thanks.
“You do well in geology.” Rantaro remarks amicably, though Kaito senses that he picked up on the fact that Kaito omitted some information from what he just said. Rantaro seems like a pretty closed-off kinda guy, (who gets into a bit of trouble on a trip, of all things?), so he’ll probably understand not to push. “Better than me, for sure. I tend to think that all rocks look the same.”
“You would,” Kaito seethes, but loses any joke-hostility after a moment as Rantaro laughs, and then hisses. Probably a bruised rib or something. “Think anything is broken?”
“Nah, I’d go to a hospital for that.” Rantaro replies quietly. “Just a bit bruised.” He gives Kaito a wary look, and it’s kind of tough to decipher what it means for a second, but then Kaito realises that Rantaro is probably expecting to ask him why he’s roughed up. Maybe his friend Mukuro would. Or maybe she wouldn’t, and that’s why he was going to her. A vaguely familiar protective voice in the back of Kaito’s mind urges him to do so, but he brushes it aside. It would probably just make Rantaro uncomfortable. Besides, it’s none of his business. He already insisted that Rantaro come inside and stay the rest of the night here. He can respect his privacy.
“You’d better take off your shirt then.” Kaito says. When Rantaro’s lips curl up, Kaito scoffs and adds, “So I can tend to the bruises, dumbass,” but can’t help grinning when Rantaro laughs.
Through his chuckles, he manages to say, “Buy me dinner first, at least,” and then they’re both laughing (probably because it’s late and Kaito’s still got calculus on the mind) but Kaito makes an effort to stop when he gets short of breath, not wanting to start coughing like he does when he laughs too hard and kill the moment.
It’s four in the morning when Kaito passes out, on the floor, after what was probably the fastest shower he’s ever taken. He went ahead and put on some pants so that it wouldn’t be weird, but neglected to use a shirt because Rantaro is shirtless too so it doesn’t really matter. He conked out pretty much immediately upon lying down on the carpet, and when his alarm wakes him up the next morning, Rantaro is gone, he’s got a blanket draped over him, and a sticky note with a phone number and a little smiley face placed on his forehead.
(Rantaro leaves behind a faint smell of evergreen trees, and Kaito cuts himself shaving thinking about it.)