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Touma jolted awake. There was something… a drift in the air, a change in the temperature, something? It was understandable that he wasn’t quite comfortable, after the day he’d had, and given he was in one of the spare bedrooms at the base. It was safer here. It still wasn’t home, and his disorientation was worse because of it. There was nothing quite like your own pillow.
He blinked through a haze of pain, trying to see in the darkness, trying to make it make sense.
The door closed soundlessly.
Oh.
Oh, that was it.
Kento.
He scrambled to his feet, then had to put a hand to his head as he swayed, nearly dropping back down. There was only so much you could do for head injuries other than rest, as he’d learned.
He didn’t need surgery. Sophia-san had given him a potion to drink, which had dulled the worst of the pain (he hadn’t told her just how much was left). Ogami-san had examined him with surprisingly deft, gentle fingers, had done various tests on his ability to focus and his understanding of current events, and informed him that he hadn’t broken his brain. Then Rintaro and Mei had made up the bed for him, and Kento had helped him into the room.
Kento had promised to go sleep in his own room. Touma wondered if he’d done so at all, or if he’d been in here watching over Touma the whole night.
…part of the night. It was only maybe two or three in the morning.
Yeah, of course he was on the rooftop, in his thin little pjs and golden robe. Looking elegant even in that outfit. Kento’s head jerked around and he blinked at Touma in the starlight.
“How did you know-“
“I woke up and you weren’t there.”
“But- but you didn’t know I was there in the first place, right?”
Touma said gravely, “No, but you have a very specific way of not being in a room.”
“I what-“ Kento shook his head, a tiny, disbelieving smile on his face. Good. At least that was something. Then he said helplessly, “You should be in bed.”
“So should you! I don’t even know how you got up here!”
“There’s a lot you can do with a magic carpet.”
Ogami-san had dragged a small wooden and wrought iron bench up here a few days earlier, and Touma tugged at Kento’s hand to get him to move over there. Trying not to show how badly he needed to close his eyes. Kento took one look at him, and tchhed, and suddenly there was a warm arm around him, easing him over to the bench.
“I don’t feel all that bad,” Kento lied.
Touma snorted, feeling immeasurably better now that he had firm planks under his ass, and a warm friend next to him. Kento took too much on himself, always, and the bandages were thick around his knee and thigh. “You were lucky you didn’t break that leg.”
“It’ll heal. But you,” Kento said, and he took a deep, shuddery breath. Touma felt his face warm with horrible empathy, with the horrible gut-deep realization of how badly Kento didn’t want to show this to him. Didn’t want to worry him. “You nearly died.”
There it was.
He’d forgotten some of it, some of how it’d happened when he’d desperately tossed that kid out of the way, then had landed flat on his back in the middle of the road with Desast’s new giant axe descending towards his unprotected head, as the others screamed -
“Yes, but I didn’t.”
He hadn’t forgotten enough of it. To be honest with himself, which he often tried to be, he probably would’ve woken up from a nightmare, if not from the feeling of Kento leaving his side.
He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the light breeze coming off the forest, and the scent of one of his best friends next to him. He told himself that he was playing up just how bad he felt in order to touch Kento without Kento pulling away.
Maybe that was true. (Maybe it was also that he felt abominable, and hadn’t known previously that you could taste colors.)
There was a soft sob next to him, and Touma reached up to cup Kento’s face and run a gentle thumb along his cheekbone, wiping tears.
“People leave. It’s what they do.”
It was the hoarsest of whispers.
“Not always.” Touma’s own honesty forced himself to admit here that he wasn’t the greatest example. He’d not only left Kento – completely involuntarily, sure – but he’d also forgotten him. “Or if they do, they come back, right?”
They sat for a while. Kento shifted the careful weight of his arm around Touma’s shoulders, and Touma nestled into him further. He knew he was tall; not so tall that he stood out, but it was still so very nice to be held by someone much the same size as him. Unusual.
“You think my father will come back?”
Ah.
Touma didn’t pretend to know all there was to know about this. He’d known Kento’s dad, a little. Only a little. The man seemed full of sunshine and smiles. To be betrayed by him turning so thoroughly to darkness, and then by the mystery of his disappearance… Of course it was eating away at Kento.
“I have no idea,” he said apologetically. “I really hope he does. He’s strong, Kento, just like his son.”
He snuck his own arm around Kento’s lower back, and Kento very delicately, very lightly, leaned his head on Touma’s shoulder and completely fell to pieces.
Touma tugged at him, and pulled at him, and in time he let himself lean on Touma properly. His body heaved with near-silent sobs. And Touma found himself making all kinds of reassuring noises which were probably pretty stupid, and rubbing Kento’s back which was probably not so stupid.
“You’re not allowed to die,” Kento said into Touma’s shoulder.
Touma nodded, his voice soft. “I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know, I know, sheesh, Kento, keep your pants on.”
The gentlest of teases. He could feel a very wavery smile against his skin, through his t-shirt.
Kento shifted, trying to lean away a little, and then grunted under his breath. Touma chanced opening his eyes, and saw a definite wince. “I’m not sure I can get my pants on over the bandage,” he said, voice still thick, but sounding a bit more like himself.
“You’re pantsless under that robe? Kento!” Mock outrage. “We better get you back to bed.”
And Touma wouldn’t mind going there, either. He was definitely running out of oomph, and felt like he could maybe even sleep again, oomphless as he was. Wasn’t so sure how he’d make it back down the stairs with his eyes shut, because his head was swimming, but he’d figure something out.
Somehow, with the use of the carpet, with many soft guilty near-curses from Kento, with many not-quite-throwing-up instances from Touma, they made it back to the bedroom.
Touma reached for Kento as Kento pulled away.
“Touma…?”
“There are too many pillows,” he articulated as clearly as he could through a giant yawn. His head was hurting like anything again. He needed to sleep.
“I’m sorry.”
He could hear Kento’s confusion, and it made his lips curve.
“Enough for you. And to elevate your knee. Come to bed? So you won’t have to stand there and watch me?”
Kento paused. Touma could hear his breathing quicken. Then the bed creaked lightly, and then he had his best friend in his arms, and then he could finally let himself drift off to sleep once more.