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Berlin is beautiful and stunning and gorgeous and maybe if it wasn't two in the morning, he would appreciate it more. Right now though, he's tired and aching and really just needs a place to sleep while he heals.
He passes a park bench, ready to lie down and pass out, but there's a tug at his navel that tells him to keep moving. He rubs a hand over his face, but doesn't question it.
Occasionally, luck is sent his way. Of course, not enough to avoid dangerous situations entirely, but his life wouldn't be the way that it is if he was that lucky. Where would the fun be in that?
He's learned to trust his instincts, luck or otherwise. If he has to keep moving for a little longer, he'll do it.
He wonders briefly if instead of luck, it's a blessing. Wonders if Honest left something of the sort when he lived in his soul.
Wonders if his drifting thoughts have anything to do with the blood loss.
Yubel starts to bicker with him over what the difference between a blessing and luck is—he knows they're trying to distract him from the pain, he appreciates it—when he feels a shift in the air.
He pauses, looking around, trying to focus. It's harder when he's this tired, but he flares out his sight as best he can.
Duel energy is a mysterious thing at the best of times. He can't count the amount of times he's used it to follow a trail, to chase danger, to land in a hot mess of a situation. But, he thinks, it's a way to find help, too. Everyone's duel energy is different, and this one is recognizable even from this far away.
He finds himself drawn to the hotels up the street and knows.
He takes out his phone, wincing at the low battery, but it's probably enough for a call. He presses the button and holds it to his ear, trying to assure himself that two a.m. isn't that late. At least, not for—
"Judai?" Edo's voice comes through after only one ring.
Awake then. He lets out a sigh of relief.
"Hey Edo," he greets, breaking into a jog as he heads towards—no, not that building, Yubel says, over there, Judai. He follows their direction, finding a second wind at the thought of seeing Edo. The last time he saw him in person was months ago, back at Duel Academy.
"You're in Berlin, right?" he asks, despite knowing. It's more natural to ask than to just show up in the middle of the night, he thinks, squeezing his phone nervously.
"I am," comes Edo's answer, slow and considering. He can imagine thoughtful eyes, a tilted head, oh-so-easily. Then:
An ambulance's siren goes off a few streets over. It echoes through the line, outing him immediately.
Edo laughs and he brightens at the easy acceptance that they just happen to be in the same country—hell, the same city. He knew Edo was on a European tour, but he didn't realize they were in Germany at the same time.
This, he points out to Yubel, is totally a blessing. He sends a thank you to Honest.
"Are you coming to see me?" Edo asks and it sounds like he's smiling. It makes him feel giddy, too.
"Maybe," he says, but the laugh that bubbles out of him irritates his shoulder enough that he winces. "What floor are you on?"
"The seventh. Need me to come down?"
He glances at the state of himself. He wouldn't make it past the front door without causing a commotion—not what he needs nor wants right now. "I think it might be better if I climb up instead."
"Sure thing, Romeo." He blinks, mouthing Romeo like it'll help him get the reference. Dismisses it when he hears movement; Edo getting up, he assumes. "I'll open up a window."
He squints and readies himself. He can guesstimate Edo's window from the light; at this time of night, it's the only one on. He's too exhausted for flying, Yubel's pouring everything into healing, but he can hop, skip, jump. He times it well enough that he's through the window just as it finishes opening.
Edo lets out a surprised laugh, having ducked out of the way just in time. "Seven out of ten," he teases, snapping his phone shut as he turns his back on him to close the window. "I've seen better entrances from you."
"I think I did pretty well, considering," he pipes up, letting Pharaoh pad out of his bag and onto the armchair to snooze.
Suddenly, he's hit with a wave of dizziness. He falls forward, clutching at the back of the chair to catch himself. He struggles to find his bearings, Yubel an apologetic voice at the back of his head.
It's okay, Yubel, he soothes them. It's been over twenty-four hours since he's slept, if he doesn't count the ten minute nap while taking the bus. It's his own fault that they have to push so hard, that they have to siphon energy from reserves that are barely there.
So. Tired.
"Considering what?" Edo asks, turning to look at him and—
"Judai," he hisses through his teeth, eyes darting over him quickly. He steps forward heavily, hands outstretched. "What happened?"
He looks down at himself and flinches. Ah, yeah, now that he's seeing himself in the bright light of the hotel room, it doesn't look great.
It looks horrible.
His whole right arm is covered in lacerations, spiraling like vines, climbing up to his shoulder, nearly to his neck. Blood seeps through his shredded jacket like a horrible floral pattern and he looks away quickly, swallowing against the bile in his throat.
He's grateful that, at the very least, he's not wearing his Osiris Red jacket, having stuffed it in his bag for a warmer one. That would have been devastating.
"You should have seen the other guy," he attempts to joke, but Edo is at his side in a flash, helping him stand with a firm hold at his uninjured elbow, other hand at his back. He directs him to the bathroom and Judai keeps his mouth shut as he takes in the blistering focus of Edo's eyes. It's familiar, but only in a way that makes his stomach turn with guilt.
It's the exact same look that Edo has in life-or-death situations, a deadly calm that doesn't betray a single emotion that could be used against him. He knows it well, has dueled alongside Edo enough to recognize it immediately.
That look has no right to be on his face. Not for something like this. Not for him. He feels horrible for putting it there at all.
He lets Edo help him up onto the sink's counter, hands strong at his hips as he's lifted up with ease. Edo stops then, eyes trained on his disaster of an arm as he asks, steady in a way that must mean he's anything but, "Should I take you to the hospital?"
"No," he says, means to say more, but the word exits his mouth clumsily, tying his tongue. Edo's eyes meet his and, at this distance, there's no way he can hide the calm twisting into something alarmed.
"Yubel and I are healing it fine," he says, more surely, firmly, trying to ease the tension of Edo's shoulders. Edo's gaze turns searching, seeking any shadow of a lie or platitude. It's a little annoying, but he can admit to himself that he would absolutely downplay an injury if he were with anyone else.
But, this is Edo. Edo, who can read people as if it's as simple as breathing. Edo, who can read him just as easy.
And, more importantly, this is Edo, who he trusts.
"Thirty minutes," he says, not looking away, because he has nothing to hide. "Just thirty minutes to finish healing it all."
"Okay," Edo says, breathing the word as much as he's speaking it. "Okay, Judai." He runs a hand through his hair, eyes closed as he regains his composure and Judai waits. When they open again, Edo asks, "The other guy?"
"Super angry Duel Spirit," he says, going for a grin and knows it falls flat when Edo doesn't smile back. "It got physical and they got a lucky hit," he explains, softening his voice. "They're back in their realm now, so it's no biggie."
The look Edo sends him at that is nothing short of exasperated. He likes that look because it's just this side of fond, just this side of warm. He can't help kicking a leg out, letting Edo catch it and lower it back down, squeezing his thigh gently.
"Do you want a pain reliever?" Edo asks, his voice softer too, like any louder will hurt Judai further.
He shakes his head, keeping his eyes to Edo and not at the blood—"They don't work on me anymore," he says. He doesn't really understand the physical changes in him sometimes, but he knows enough to be sure that most medications are lost on him.
"Water then, at least."
He watches as Edo reaches past him for the cup by the faucet, watches as he fills it with water. Edo passes it to him and he drinks it down, meaning to go slow but ends up chugging it. He didn't even realize he had a dull headache until the cool water helped soothe it.
He lets out a shaky exhale, resting both hands on the cup. Looks at Edo from the lip of it and feels his throat tighten even more at the amount of worry and care in his eyes.
He passes the cup back and Edo fills it again. He drinks it again. Edo takes it back and Judai shakes his head at more.
Edo places the cup down, frowning at his arm. He's glad he feels good enough to look at it, because he sure isn't.
"Judai," he says carefully and he already knows he's not going to like what he says, "I think you should take your jacket off."
He really doesn't want to, not until all his wounds are closed up at least. Edo must see the reluctance on his face, because he mirrors it.
He sighs, then says, "The fabric is sticking to a few of the cuts. It'd probably be better to get it out of the way."
Ah, he hates that. He can't even close his eyes while doing it. He does as asked though, carefully tugging his sleeves off. Flinches at the pain shooting up his arm.
Edo hovers close, but lets him do it himself, which he appreciates even more. He has to take off his shirt, too, but can't bend his arm enough to do it himself—ow, ow, ow.
"Help," he says, muffled against the collar of his shirt, and Edo is quick, raising it off his head in one smooth motion before throwing the discarded clothes onto the toilet seat.
It's a gross pile of blood-ridden fabric. He averts his gaze.
Edo takes a washcloth from one of the drawers, wetting it quickly. He offers it to him, but he doesn't take it, staring it down. He's rolling the words on his tongue, hates asking for even more help when he got himself into this mess in the first place, but Edo seems to get what he's asking regardless.
He always does.
Edo leans forward, taking his hand first, glancing up at him as if to ask is this okay?
He can't find the words at all; can only nod.
So, Edo continues, and he feels the cloth against his skin, can feel the warmth of Edo's hand holding his. Edo wipes the blood off slowly at first, gently, delicately. Continues up to his wrist, fingers careful where they hold. When the skin there is clean, he rinses the cloth, and Judai watches almost distantly as the water turns pink. Again, Edo gently wipes his forearm, hand more sure, eyes less panicked and more interested as the dried blood makes way to clear skin, not even a scar left behind.
It's easier to focus on Edo's touch instead of the knitting of flesh, on the way Edo attentively rubs at the blood and healing skin, at the caring pattern of rinsing and scrubbing and cleaning. The ministrations are enough to lull him to sleep, if he closes his eyes.
Yubel murmurs that he needs to stay awake, let them finish or it'll take twice as long when he's asleep. He sends back an assent, even though his eyelids feel heavier than ever.
Edo stops when he gets to his shoulder. Judai can still feel it aching, near-burning. It's probably the worst of it.
He can see Edo swallow hard. Less curious, more worried. His brow is furrowed hard, like trying to solve a problem, and he can't have that. He reaches forward without a thought, smoothing his fingers over the space between Edo's eyes.
"I'm okay," he says, moving his hand to Edo's cheek, cupping it gently. He watches as Edo lets out a sigh and leans into the touch. Judai swipes a thumb over his cheek before teasing, "Don't give yourself wrinkles, you're already grey."
That gets rolled eyes in response, but there's a smile playing at the edge of Edo's lips now. Small, but there.
"Stop doing stressful things then," Edo tells him. It's said jokingly, but there's an undercurrent of vulnerability, the voice of someone who's lost enough. It makes his heart ache.
He's not used to other people worrying about him, not like this, not like he's something to protect.
Not like he's something worth protecting.
He drops his hand so he can tilt forward to rest his forehead on Edo's shoulder. Edo pauses, hands stuck between them, before nudging Judai's legs open, so he can lean closer, too. He can hear Edo drop the cloth in the sink, shivers at the water-cool hands on his back.
His first hug with Edo, he thinks in a sleepy, fond way. It probably isn't the most comfortable of positions for him, tucked between Judai's legs as he hugs Judai on the counter, but it's nice.
He closes his eyes.
The shaking of Edo's hands is a lot more noticeable against his back, without clothes or cloths or blood in the way. The realization that he means so much to someone, to the point that getting hurt scares them, is startling.
He hooks his chin over Edo's shoulder, slinging his uninjured arm around his back to hold him even closer.
"Be careful," Edo murmurs into the crook of his neck.
"I'm always careful."
A laugh; warm breath on his skin. "Be more careful," Edo amends.
They sit like that for a long moment. He's tired and aching still, but warm. He breathes deeply, mindfully, because Edo's hands go from shaking to trembling, clutching at his back with a strength that would bruise human skin. Releasing so quickly that he can't tell if Edo wants to hold or if he's too scared to let himself.
Eventually, breath evens and the hands at his back settle. With the stillness comes Edo's voice: "You don't usually get hurt like this."
There's a question in his words, folded carefully. He could ignore it, if he wanted to.
He doesn't.
"I haven't been sleeping well," he says, blinking eyes open to look at the far wall. "Went into a situation tired, came out of it injured." Then, because he knows he owes it to Edo and Yubel and even to himself, "Sorry."
Edo is quiet for a moment, thinking. Then, he asks, "Is it nightmares again?"
Judai sighs, nodding against him.
Usually, he's okay. He has Yubel and Pharaoh and Daitokuji—Yubel a warmth surrounding him always, Pharaoh purring on his lap, Daitokuji there to lend an ear. Usually, it's enough.
Sometimes, it's not.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He blinks fast. Closes his eyes so it stops. "I don't know."
Edo rubs a soothing circle on his back. "You don't have to," he says and it helps. It does. He breathes, relaxing further into Edo's strong embrace, under Edo's strong hands.
"Maybe—tomorrow?" He breathes. "I don't want to talk about it tonight."
"I'll be here," Edo says, immediate and understanding and he kinda feels like crying, isn't that embarrassing?
He knows the hitch of his breath isn't hidden nearly as well as he wants it to be, you can't hide from someone holding you in a hug after all, but Edo doesn't mention it.
"Anything I can do, Judai?" he asks instead.
"Just being here is enough," he says, and it's true. The cosmic energy of the Destiny Heroes swirls around the both of them, protective, loyal to Edo whose own energy embraces him, powerful and strong and safe.
"Tell me about your day?" he adds too, watery and teary; he needs something else to focus on, more than the heat of his eyes, more than the strength of Edo's care.
Edo tells him about the duel he had today, a virus deck that was annoying to deal with.
He tells him about the amount of selfies he took with fans and really, his fingers are in a constant state of victory signs.
Tells him a few words in German that he won't remember come morning, but he likes the way they sound on Edo's tongue.
He's nearly asleep when Edo squeezes him gently.
"How much longer til you're done?" he asks, sounding sorry about waking him, rubbing at his back comfortingly.
"Two more minutes," he says or Yubel says or both of them say. He's too tired to be human.
"Let me finish your shoulder then," Edo says and he hums against him, not moving. "Lift your head, Judai?" Edo asks, voice fond. "I can't reach like this."
"Mhm," he mumbles, doing so, blinking blearily as he feels the wetness of the cloth against his shoulder, at his neck.
Done, Yubel tells him, their own voice drowsy. Rest, Judai.
He thanks them tiredly, feels them sleeping, can't wait to follow.
"Stay awake for another minute," Edo says, squeezing the cloth dry before dropping it in the pile of bloody clothes. Judai stares at it unblinkingly.
Edo pats his cheek and he drags his gaze away from it, back to Edo, who tells him, "Let me grab you a shirt to sleep in."
He must fall asleep between blinks, because when he opens his eyes again, Edo is back, looking at him with eyes so tender he could melt.
Edo helps him with the shirt, helps him shuck off his pants, too, because he's too sleepy to be anything but a languid doll.
He sighs happily when they're done, glancing up at Edo. Winces.
"Sorry," he says, gesturing at Edo's shirt where there's dried blood.
Edo barely gives it a glance. "It's only blood," he says, like that's not the coolest thing he's ever heard him say. Then: "You don't have to apologize for anything."
Leave it to Edo to hear what he hasn't said. He smiles, hops off the counter, and immediately stumbles. Edo steadies him by the waist, Judai's hands landing on Edo's shoulders, and all he can do is take in how close they are, how close their faces are.
Close enough that he can feel Edo's breath on his cheek.
His gaze drifts down to Edo's lips. Watches as it turns into a smile and—he snaps his eyes back up, suddenly much more awake.
Edo meets his gaze, amused.
Totally caught. He smiles bashfully.
Edo's confession hangs over them. Not in a bad way, he thinks. A cozy way. Like a blanket. Like fairy lights.
Like a blessing.
He figures it's only a matter of time before it comes to a head but, for now, it doesn't. He's not ready, but—
He'd be a fool to not know that he likes Edo as much as Edo likes him.
"Thanks for taking care of me," he says to fill the soft quiet.
"Of course," Edo says, eyes affectionate in a way that makes his heart race, just a bit.
Edo takes his hands and leads him to bed, fussing with the blanket, then the pillows, and Judai has to tug on him to have him finally lie down and stop worrying.
Edo curls his arms around him, and he curls his arms around Edo in turn.
Between one second and the next, one breath and the next, one heartbeat and the next, he falls asleep, soft and warm and cared for.