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Kuramochi may have overdone it today.
He can barely make it up the stairs to his apartment, with every drag of his swollen foot up the steps sending more immense spikes of pain rocketing up his body. One of his eyes is swollen shut, and he can taste the blood from his split lip on his tongue. His head pounds horribly from getting knocked against the steel railings at the nearby parking lot, and there’s a faraway ringing in his ears that makes his vision blurry and mind slow. He can’t tell if the fluid running down his nose is blood or snot, either.
Stumbling against his door, he reaches for the doormat for his spare key- his original key probably got thrown away somewhere during the fight- only for his fingers to find nothing sitting beneath the mat.
“God damn it!” He pounds a frustrated fist against the door, leaning his head against its cool metal and sighing. Some fucker probably found out where his house was and stole his shit.
He’ll have to resign himself to passing out in front of his door and visiting the landlord tomorrow. It’s long past midnight, and he doesn’t have the energy to go back down after spending nearly all of it trying to make it up the stairs.
Just as he starts to close his eyes, the door opens, and Kuramochi falls forward onto the wooden floor of his apartment.
“ACK! A BURGLAR!” Someone from inside screams.
Eh? Wasn’t he the one getting robbed, though…?
He’s suddenly smacked hard on the head with something cushiony yet dense, and he groans in pain. What the hell is going on?
“GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT, YOU CRIMINAL!!!”
God, what a loud voice. Kuramochi’s head is pounding a lot worse than it was earlier, and he reaches out to snatch the ankle of his assailant, using it as a support to lift his head and glare at him with the worst look he can muster.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up, you noisy moron.”
He passes out before he can see the face of whoever broke into his apartment.
⋆
When he wakes up, he’s lying in an unfamiliar bed yet staring up at a familiar ceiling.
“…Did I die?”
“YOU’RE AWAKE!” A voice bellows, and Kuramochi immediately grimaces and tries to turn over in bed, only for another intense spike of pain to shoot up his body.
“Fuck! That hurts like a bitch,” he groans. The turns back to staring up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes from the bright lamp overhead. Since when did he have such a lamp?
…Wait, where the hell is he, anyways? How did he end up inside after passing out outside of his apartment?
A warm hand suddenly grabs his while he’s lost in thought, and Kuramochi immediately shoots up from his bed to find himself face-to-face with curious gold eyes and a concerned look.
“Who the f- “
“Now, now!” The boy smiles, taking a warm washcloth and wiping off the dark, dried blood from his fingertips. “Looks like Mister Criminal finally woke up!”
“…Criminal? I’m not- “
He shushes him, pressing a finger to his lips and wagging his other like a mother chastising her son. “I wasn’t the one banging on someone’s door in the middle of the night! You’re all beat-up looking too!” Triumphantly crossing his arms over his chest, the boy pulls out a messy-looking first aid kit and rummages through it, pulling out a set of messily-packaged bandages. “Look at what a reliable citizen I’m being, helping out delinquents like you!”
When he starts to reach for his head to wrap the bandages around, Kuramochi pushes him back and pulls the blankets off of himself in an attempt to get off of the bed. He doesn’t need any help from a stranger, and the last thing he wants to be is indebted to someone. However, the moment he gets to his feet from the bed, he immediately staggers, foot angrily protesting the pressure and throbbing head begging for him to lie back down. Kuramochi slumps back onto the bed, groaning in pain.
“Don’t be stubborn, now!” That loud fucking stranger laughs, and Kuramochi just wants to go home. “Let this Sawamura Eijun nurse you back to health before you go home! Or back to jail!”
“I’ve never been to jail, moron.” Kuramochi groans.
So, his name is Sawamura Eijun. The name doesn’t ring a bell, so Kuramochi’s pretty sure this chipper boy wouldn’t be associated with any of the rival gangs in the area. He’s had to deal with enough bullshit for one day.
“Jail or not, let me help you! You looked like one of those beat-up bad guys they see in movies! All bloody and stuff!” Sawamura grabs his leg this time, hoisting it onto his lap and carefully wrapping his leg in the bandages. The damage is much worse than he thought- his ankle has swollen purple and it looks like he won’t be walking around comfortably anytime soon.
“What happened to you? Did you get bullied?”
“Shut up! I didn’t get bullied. Jus’ ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.” When Kuramochi notices Sawamura staring at him with wide, inquisitive eyes, he looks away bashfully. Why is he so friendly with me, anyways?
“Are you in the yakuza? I’ve heard of them, but I didn’t know they were real!”
Kuramochi almost laughs at how utterly absurd that sounds, but his chest tightens in pain at even the slightest breath, forcing him to refrain. He decides to answer his stupid question with silence instead, letting Sawamura work on bandaging him up in peace.
Kuramochi stares as Sawamura focuses on fixing him up, gazing at the tufts of messy brown hair on his head and his nimble fingers as he works to wrap the bandages and apply the antibiotics. Though he’s not exactly what Kuramochi would describe as his “ideal type,” he certainly is cute enough for it to be acknowledged. His face is round and cute, too, which is something Kuramochi’s always preferred over the more mature-looking women in the magazines he used to buy when he was a stupid teenager still figuring himself out.
After Sawamura finishes and turns away to start packing his supplies back up, Kuramochi gets up to head to the door, staggering down the hall and fumbling to get his shoes- well, shoe, there’s no way he can fit his sneakers over swelling that big- on.
“Want me to take you home, Mister Delinquent? We can ride on my moped!” Sawamura suggests, bounding over to the door to see him out.
…There is no way in hell Kuramochi is getting onto a scooter with this kid.
“I’m good, thanks. I’ll find my own way home, see ya’,” he waves, opening the door and stepping out to… A very familiar parking lot. In fact, it’s the exact same parking lot he sees when he steps outside of his apartment.
“…Just a quick question,” Kuramochi says with a strained smile, turning around to look at Sawamura and at the inside of his apartment. “What’s your address?”
Sawamura takes a moment to think. “604 Blue Road, why?”
“…I live at 605 Blue Road.”
⋆
“I DIDN’T KNOW WE WERE NEIGHBORS! NICE TO MEET YOU, NEIGHBOR!” Sawamura hollers. He’s sitting across from Kuramochi and happily munching on a bag of chips, looking completely at home in his apartment.
“Can you go home? You’re getting on my nerves.”
“Hey, hey, hey! What’s wrong with a little neighborly bonding? I just moved here last week!” Sawamura roughly pats Kuramochi on his back, and Kuramochi resists the urge to put the moron in a chokehold.
Sighing in resignation, Kuramochi lies down on the floor and begins to flip through the different channels on the TV, stopping when a mildly interesting action movie pops up. He can hear Sawamura making himself busy behind him, and the silence between them feels awkward. He feels like he should be showing him some hospitality, even though Sawamura was the one who invited himself over anyway.
“So where are you from?” Kuramochi asks, hoping to make some idle conversation to fill the empty space.
“NAGANO! I hail from a small farming village in the region! My family owns a lot of land there!”
Somehow, being a country boy fits Sawamura. Kuramochi can’t fathom someone so overly friendly and nosy being from the city.
“Why’d you move to Tokyo?”
“For college!!! I’m here on a sports scholarship!”
The mention of sports leaves a bitter taste in Kuramochi’s mouth. He remembers being called to the teachers’ room and being told that high schools no longer wanted him for their teams because of his reputation as a wild delinquent and constant write-ups for violence. He remembers joining a random school in the boonies and living out the rest of his high school years lounging around, skipping school, and messing around with his friends in the downtown areas of the city.
To say that he hates sports or didn’t care about them would just be untrue, but to say that he misses them or longs to play again would also be inaccurate. The concept feels so foreign to him now, like a distant, far away memory that’s slowly fading with time. He can’t remember the last time he’s put on a mitt or picked up a bat.
“Hello? Helloooo? Mister Yakuza?” Sawamura says, poking him on the side.
“Don’t call me that, idiot! I have a name besides ‘Mister Criminal’ and ‘Yakuza’.”
“You never gave it to me, though.”
…Ah, right. Perhaps he did overlook that minor detail.
“Kuramochi Youichi.” He bats away at Sawamura, who’s leaning way too close. “And what the hell are you doing? Go back to your spot!”
“Don’t blame me, Kuramochi! You suddenly spaced out once I said I was here on a scholarship!”
“Oh. My bad.”
Though he was hoping to end the conversation there, Sawamura is relentless in his questions.
“Why’d you space out? Do you play any sports? Have you played any?”
Kuramochi sighs. “I played baseball once.”
At the mention of baseball, Sawamura’s eyes light up immediately, and he grins. “BASEBALL? I’M HERE ON A BASEBALL SCHOLARSHIP, YOU KNOW!”
Oh, well that’s just perfect. Right when Kuramochi figured he’d leave baseball as a distant dream, Sawamura comes bursting into his life as a baseball-crazed kid who won’t shut up about the things he likes.
“It was a long time ago.”
“THAT DOESN’T MATTER! What position did you play? I’m a PITCHER! THE ACE, TOO!!! Ah, well, I was the ace in high school but not anymore, but those are just minor technicalities, HAHA!”
His high energy is infectious, and Kuramochi can’t help but feel lighter as he listens to Sawamura’s ramblings. “High school doesn’t count anymore, idiot! What are you right now?”
Sawamura’s face sours at this, and he laughs awkwardly. “Well, you know, I’m still second-string right now, but one day-“
“KYAHAHA! Second-string? And after all of that boasting about being the ace in high school? You’re a hoot, Sawamura!”
It’s quiet for a moment as Sawamura stares at him, and Kuramochi starts to wonder if he said something to offend him. When he meets Sawamura’s eyes, though, they’re still as bright and starry as they were when they first started talking about baseball.
“…What?”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh!”
Oh. Wait, what???
Kuramochi can feel his ears heat up at Sawamura’s words, and he turns away from him to hide from embarrassment.
“…Shut up, idiot.”
“HAHAHA! You should laugh more often, Kuramochi!”
⋆
Sawamura visits Kuramochi a few times every week, always staying to talk for hours and bringing snacks for the two of them to munch on. Kuramochi’s gotten accustomed to his presence in his apartment, almost expecting him to be lounging around on his couch reading manga or watching a movie when he gets back from work.
Today, there’s a kung fu movie playing on the TV, and Kuramochi squeezes in next to Sawamura as the two watch in comfortable silence. The only sounds echoing through the apartment are the noises of the movie and their occasional popcorn-chewing, and Kuramochi finds it easy to relax. He could get used to lazy weekends like this.
Later into the movie, Sawamura starts to lean onto him, and Kuramochi finds something comforting in the weight of Sawamura on his shoulder. He sits motionless until the movie ends, and by then Sawamura is fast asleep against him.
Sawamura’s sleeping face is incredibly different from his normal face. His eyelashes, Kuramochi notices, are long and full, and his pink lips pucker out ever so slightly. His round cheeks are dusted with a soft layer of red, and his eyebrows seem to furrow every once in a while, probably because of whatever he’s dreaming about. It’s cute.
A few locks of brown hair fall onto his face, and Kuramochi reaches out to brush them away, gently tucking them behind his ear. Sawamura grumbles a little at his touch and snuggles his face further into Kuramochi’s shoulder.
A soft warmth slowly blooms in Kuramochi’s chest like a flower, and he sighs fondly as he pulls the blanket up around them and leans his head on top of Sawamura’s. The movie is long over, the screen faded to black and the setting sun casting rays of orange through the blinds, and yet Kuramochi doesn’t have the heart to shake him awake and send him home.
He just wants to enjoy this warmth for a little longer. Kuramochi smiles, closing his eyes and letting the sound of Sawamura’s quiet breathing lull him to sleep.
In his dreams, he feels the brush of warm lips against his, and then its fleeting warmth is gone.
“Sleep tight, Kuramochi,” someone whispers, and Kuramochi does.