Chapter Text
After waking up from yet another restless sleep, you squinted at the digital clock on your nightstand. The bright blue light read ‘3:02 AM’ which just made you groan in disbelief and lean back on your pillows. This stupid insomnia was going to be the death of you. You stayed still for a moment, staring at the ceiling before finally deciding to raid your kitchen and attempt to find something that would help you sleep. Probably some pills, or you could even make some tea or warm milk… You got out of your bed and walked over to the kitchen. Still groggy from sleep, or lack thereof, you didn’t notice that your kitchen light was on when it clearly shouldn’t have been.
And when you did notice, you just assumed you had accidentally left it on. “Let’s see…” You muttered quietly, opening the fridge, and glancing inside.
And that’s when you froze.
Very slowly, you closed the fridge and turned your head. Sitting on the floor, with the back to the counter, was a man you had never seen before in your life. Honestly, you would say that the first thing you noticed were the gigantic red wings on his back, but sadly, you just weren’t that perceptive.
He was staring at you, frozen in his spot with a bucket of fried chicken between his legs, a chicken drumstick halfway to his mouth, and a cup with soda. The chicken and soda certainly weren’t yours; you hadn’t bought any recently. However, this was definitely your kitchen, and that was definitely your cup. How had he gotten in? And what was he doing here, had he just come in to steal a cup?
“I can explain.” He quickly said, before you could react. Before you could yell for help or grab your phone and call the police. You took a step back, ready to bolt. He slowly lowered the chicken drumstick and looked down at his clothing. He then looked back up at you and winced. “Okay, maybe I don’t have an explanation… Listen, I’ll leave. I just- I bought the soda and I didn’t have a cup, and my hands were dirty, look.” He raised his empty hand, which was indeed dirty… With blood. You took another step back and he glanced at his hand. “Shit, wait- I didn’t- It’s mine, I didn’t hurt anyone.”
You stared at him.
“Anyway, I needed a cup, I didn’t think there was anyone home, I am so sorry. Just, I’ll be on my way, please don’t call the cops.” He stood up, you took another step back. “Before I go… Do you think you could… Uh, give me a cup? Plastic works.”
You merely stared.
He shifted uncomfortably. “Uh… My name is Keigo?” He said with a shy smile as if that would make you trust him more. When you didn’t react, he put the bucket of fried chicken on the counter. “Chicken?”
He turned towards the door and that’s when you caught a glimpse of blood running down the side of his head. He had mentioned that the blood in his hands had been his own, so maybe that was the source.
“You’re bleeding.” You noted. He paused and turned back towards you. “Stay.”
He watched as you disappeared through the doorway.
“Um… Are you calling the cops? I really don’t wanna have a run-in with them- I’m sorry…” He called out.
“Calm down you big baby, I’m just getting some things.” You called back, grabbing the first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet.
When you walked back to the kitchen, he was standing near the doorway, seemingly ready to bolt.
“Come here, let me see that.” You said. He took a step towards the door. “If you take a step closer to that door, I will call the cops.” You threatened. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at you. “Come on, I won’t kill you.” You joked, beckoning him over. He slowly walked back and sat down on the floor with his back to the counter. You grabbed the bucket of fried chicken he had left on the counter and handed it back to him. “Don’t stop on my account.”
He slowly grabbed the disregarded chicken drumstick as he stared quietly.
“Alright, there isn’t too much blood, so I think you’ll live.” You muttered, reaching to move his hair back. He shied away from your touch for a moment, but when you tried again, he let you push his hair back. It was just a scratch on his temple. “Oh that’s just a scratch.” You noted, grabbing a bit of gauze and cleaning out the wound with alcohol. He didn’t even flinch when you applied it. “So… Did you steal the chicken?”
“I did not!” He replied immediately at the accusation. You laughed as you put a band aid on his wound.
“Alright, it seems like you’re fine now.” You said, cleaning up the supplies. “However, you should rest.” He stared at you. “There’s an empty couch-”
“I don’t need to rest, I’m fine, I don’t-” He began, standing up.
“I will call the cops.” You threatened again. He paused.
“Alright, but in the morning, I’m gone.” He said, you just nodded in reply.
“Deal! Now move, I need to get my things.”