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"Kiryu, there's a kid looking for you."
Kiryu opens his eyes and looks past Nishiki's face, up into the ceiling of Kashiwagi's office. He had fallen asleep on the couch in Kashiwagi's office again, with his suit jacket folded up into a neat square under his head and arms crossed over his chest. Apartment hunting has given Kiryu no shortage of trouble, and so far all he has to show for it is mild sleep deprivation, so Kashiwagi's couch has seen a lot of him lately.
It helps that Nishiki is always here.
All of Kiryu's dreams are about being burned alive. Trapped in his apartment as it goes up in flames. Smelling the gasoline but being unable to move. The warmth hits his fingers first, and a weight settles hard in his chest, and the heat crawls up his skin to devour him whole. He wasn't even there when the Dojima family torched it.
So he's up most of the night, and since Nishiki basically lives in the Kazama building, he haunts the place as well.
"A kid," Kiryu echoes. "What kinda kid?"
Nishiki runs both of his warm hands through Kiryu's hair, spiking his fringe back up into place, chasing away the cobwebs of his nightmares. Kiryu closes his eyes to it. "Bald. Purple jacket. Told me his name is Tanaka."
Tanaka… Kiryu hums, unfolding his suit jacket. The name sounds familiar.
Oh, it's Shinji.
Shinji looks terrible. He's pale and waxy like he hasn't slept in weeks, but he leeches energy into the air. Practically vibrating out of his skin. He's wearing a grey beanie and a dark blue cloth mask, and he has a small bag clutched excitedly in both hands. He bounces in place on the balls of his feet. "Kiryu-san!"
Kiryu puts an arm around his shoulders and squeezes him gently. "Shinji, it's good to see you. I should have given you my number back then, or something."
Shinji shakes his head. Up close, Kiryu can see that his eyes are red and glassy, and that he looks a little flushed. "It's fine, I figured I could find you again. I wanted to—"
"Sit," Kiryu interjects softly, steering Shinji toward a plump leather armchair. "Shinji, are you okay?"
"Oh, I was hoping you wouldn't notice," he says with an embarrassed chuckle. His voice cracks. "I'm a little sick, but Kiryu-san, I graduated!"
"Congratulations, Shinji." Last time they spoke, he had given up on school entirely. Kiryu doesn't know what changed, but he can appreciate how hard it must have been to return, especially after losing the support of his friends. "Did you already go out for drinks?"
"Not yet." Shinji opens his bag and pulls out his diploma in trembling hands. He extends it to Kiryu, head bowed. "Thank you."
Kiryu hesitates. It takes him a second to understand that Shinji is offering the diploma for him to take, and following that he realizes that this deference is a stark contrast from the Shinji he first met. Something has changed. He unrolls the diploma with a swell of happiness.
"You worked hard, huh? I'm proud of you."
Shinji doesn't lift his head. He sniffles, and his shoulders start to shake, and alarm bells are going off in Kiryu's head. This conversation had been going as expected until now; Kiryu hadn't said anything unusual.
"Kid came all the way here for you and you made him cry?" Nishiki moves closer to investigate, giving Kiryu enough time to think, adjust, and react.
Kiryu kneels before Shinji and puts one hand on his shoulder. He doesn't know what to say. His throat dries up.
Shinji wipes at his eyes with his sleeves and pulls his mask down to his chin. He’s laughing a little, but his smile shivers and keeps turning down at the edges. "Sorry, Kiryu-san, I don't know why I'm crying all of a sudden. I tried really hard to catch up, a-and I had to redo first year. It's all because of you, I really mean it."
Kiryu thinks through a series of options and their potential outcomes as quickly as he can. Shinji is overtired and burnt out, that much makes sense, but a confrontation wouldn't get him anywhere. It's best to ease into this, probably, with some care. Like Nishiki would do. Get Shinji to lower his defenses. What do people generally like when they're upset?
"I'm gunna get you some water." Kiryu stands and nods to Nishiki, who takes his place at Shinji's side.
Shinji sneezes.
"How old are you?" Nishiki asks, handing Shinji a box of tissues.
Shinji blows his nose and rips out a few more tissues to wipe at his eyes. "20 soon, in a few months."
"It sucks to go back to school," Nishiki continues. "Kiryu was right— you gotta let us celebrate."
"I'm back," Kiryu closes the door quietly behind him. He sets a bottle of juice and two melon buns down on the coffee table. "Shinji, have you eaten?"
Nishiki sits down on the arm of the adjacent chair with a nod. "Sorry to fuss, kid, but you look pretty pathetic right now. Let me give you a ride home at least."
Shinji keeps his eyes down. "I couldn't."
"You could," Kiryu insists. "I understand if you don't wanna go home."
Shinji shrugs and blows his nose again.
"Crying can take a lot out of you," Nishiki says with a smile. "Eat something and see where you're at."
Shinji picks at a melon bun over the course of about five minutes while Kiryu and Nishiki play good cop- big brother cop. He's in better spirits again now, but with the excitement burnt off he's growing less talkative. The dark circles beneath his eyes are looking more and more pronounced.
"I didn't get top of my class or anything, but I really did my best, I think."
Kiryu frowns. "Of course you did."
"The rankings aren't important," Nishiki adds, waving his hand around.
"You finished and that's all that matters."
Shinji drains most of the juice in one go. "Thank you for this. I didn't realize I was hungry."
Kiryu seizes this opportunity to reach over and steal a feel of Shinji's forehead. Shinji blushes. Ah. Very cute.
"Fever?" Nishiki asks.
Kiryu clucks his tongue. "Maybe. Shinji, do you live alone?"
Nishiki whistles. "Movin' a little fast, kyoudai."
Kiryu glares at him.
"I live alone," Shinji says after a moment, flushed even deeper than before.
"Would you let me and Nishiki come over for a bit?" Kiryu asks, putting a hand on the back of Shinji's neck. He rubs his thumb over the soft, shorn hair there. Force of habit.
"S-sure," Shinji mumbles.
Nishiki snorts. "Alright. Let's see what kinda sorry state this kid lives in."
--
Shinji's apartment is small and bare, but clean. He has a folding card table set up against the outside wall underneath the window. To the right of the desk are three plastic beer crates full of two three-ring binders, a couple notebooks, and a pencil case. On the desk is a pile of motorcycle magazines, some crumpled papers and empty cans of coffee, a few pens and a portable radio. His futon is set up in a corner, two big blankets crunched down at the foot of it and a third, thin blanket spilling out to the side onto the floor. From the ceiling he's hooked up two dress shirts and a very well loved band t-shirt.
In his kitchenette is a kettle and a 2 cup rice cooker that looks like it's been dropped out of a plane and is now held together with electrical tape. There's another plastic beer crate filled with packages of instant ramen, instant oatmeal, and less than a third of a bag of jasmine rice. The dishes in the sink aren't too moldy or anything.
"Just a melon bun isn't enough..." Kiryu says, almost to himself, looking at the rickety old rice cooker with his hands on his hips. "Shinji, I'm going to make you some rice."
Shinji covers a volley of sneezes in his elbow. When he's finished he just sort of stares, dazed, into space, breathing through his mouth. "You really don't—"
"Do you have tea?" Nishiki asks in lieu of permission to rummage through Shinji's cupboards, which he was already doing. He pushes past a mostly empty container of hot chocolate and some packets of instant miso soup, two expired cubes of curry bouillon, until he produces a dusty box of oolong. "Aha! Alright, now we can properly take care of Tanaka-kun."
Kiryu rinses the rice off quickly and turns to see Shinji still standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking miserable. He puts a hand on Shinji's stomach and applies a small amount of pressure, guiding him backward toward his futon. "Sit, Shinji."
Shinji does as he's told with a quiet, rumbling cough. He's blank faced for a few seconds before he drops onto his side and pulls the thin blanket over himself. He looks up at Kiryu with watery, tired eyes. "Kiryu-san..."
"You shouldn't sleep in your jeans."
"M not goin' to sleep," Shinji says, eyes closing. He snakes his hands out from under the blanket and holds them over his nose.
Kiryu unbunches the other two blankets and piles one of them on top of Shinji, frowning. He folds the second blanket and puts it within reach, before pressing the back of his hand to Shinji's forehead again. Then his neck. Shinji scrunches his face up and makes a small noise of protest, but doesn't open his eyes or say anything.
Nishiki sits down at Shinji's desk, chin on his fist. "He has some cold and flu medicine, so once we've gotten him to eat he can take some. Tea should help too."
Kiryu is sure Shinji has a fever now, which is upsetting. He's worried.
He hadn't been nice to Shinji at that time. He wants to cut himself some slack and justify his actions with the fact that he had been 1. attacked by Shinji and 2. in the midst of the most stressful few days of his life, but deep down he knows those are just excuses. He knew Shinji was 16, but he had been 20 and something about their age difference sparked anger in Kiryu. So what, right? Kiryu was alone, too. He didn't have the patience.
He isn't sure if he does now, either.
It's been almost four years, and what does Kiryu have to show for it? If the years between high school and 20 felt like a period of insignificant growth, then what could he call these past four years? Stagnation. Sedentary.
Regression.
"Kyoudai," Nishiki calls out quietly. Kiryu brings him his attention. "Everything okay?"
"He fell asleep."
Nishiki coos, but there's an insincere edge to it. "He really likes you, hey? Kiryu-san."
Kiryu blushes. "C'mon."
"It's cute."
"Yeah." Kiryu rubs his knuckles. "It is."
__
Shinji drowns his rice in peanut sauce and soy sauce, which Nishiki loudly denounces as blasphemy, but Kiryu is just relieved to see that his appetite is intact. He has some of his colour back and his eyes aren't as glassy.
"Thank you, Kiryu-san, Nishikiyama-san," Shinji says with his mouth full. "I'm feeling much better."
"Good. Take it easy for a few days," Kiryu says from the kitchen, filling a glass up with tap water. He returns to the main room and hands the glass to Shinji. "I can appreciate that you wanted to talk to me about your graduation, but if you weren't feeling well you should have stayed home. You know better than that. You've been working hard and now you need to rest. "
Shinji sips at his water, avoiding eye contact again.
"Don't scold him, Kiryu." Nishiki laughs. "Tanaka-kun, you really know how to bring out Kiryu's paternal instincts."
Kiryu whacks Nishiki in the side for that. "We should get going."
Nishiki looks between Shinji and Kiryu in a conspiratorial way that Kiryu definitely recognizes and definitely hates. "Tanaka-kun, is there anything you need before we go? Wouldn't be an issue for me to quickly grab you some staples."
Kiryu wants to make a face and mimic Nishiki's over-sweet tone. His customer service voice. His ass kissing persona. It's especially hard to resist now that he knows Nishiki derives some sort of dumb thrill out of Shinji's puppy love.
Shinji buries a cough into his elbow and shakes his head. "Really, Nishikiyama-san, it's fine. I'll sleep it off. I'm never sick for long."
"I don't want to see you around the office until you're healthy, okay?" Kiryu gets to his feet with a soft sigh. "And call me if you need anything."
Shinji nods, looking up at Kiryu. "But I can see you again?"
Kiryu smiles and sighs out his nose. He brings his hand down heavily on Shinji's bald head and gives him a gentle rattling, like he would mess up his hair if he had any. "See you."