Work Text:
the way towa's body trembled whenever he had nightmares always made the poor doctor's heart shake and whine with guilt. he wondered, should he have done something different many, many years ago, back when yuma was alive, back when sakaki hadn't yet given towa a lonely apartment in the suburbs of newly-found shinkomi district grounds. he didn't really know if he should be blaming himself for any of what happened. was he the reason towa was now bound to recall everything, each and every rigid and morbid memory from his past days?
taku didn't know, really. he was just a lone man to begin with, who for sad reasons had a junkie mother who would abuse drugs on the daily, a weak woman who could not take care of herself and she became weaker and weaker after the divorce with her husband. murase didn't really remember his father. not that he had any vivid memories of him to begin with, anyway. his mother was harsher on his thoughts, because he used to trust her so much and he used to enjoy his life, with his mother still being alive.
said life went downhill as soon as she was admitted to the mainland hospital of shinkomi. she was experiencing severe withdrawal symptoms through-out her final days. then suddenly, one afternoon, taku had received the call from her doctor - his mother was gone from her hospital room.
murase was, as he could remember, anxious to hell and back. he couldn't control his tears, and the crying definitely did not stop when he found his mother's lifeless, dead body in the back of an alleyway nearby the hospital. her veiny and bony arms, skinnier than pure bones, her dull, closed eyes, which were so vividly red when he opened them for the last time.
those memories aren't too nice on murase. however, towa was different. sure, taku knew he shouldn't compare things that are this serious, but towa, just... you know the story. during those miserable moments from towa's past, the doctor could recall many things. of course, most were terrible, and taku didn't dare speak nor think about them. but there was some happiness lingering in some memories regarding the painter's childhood.
those quiet, little moments, when he would visit taku's office after certain things happened, the way he just told taku "can you hold my hand, mister? i'm scared. i'm really scared." then he'd extend his fragile bloody hand.
and when taku would tell him "don't worry, i'll make sure everything ends soon. please believe in me, alright?" as he held his small, petite hand, not caring about how scarred, dirty or bloody it was.
it hurt taku to think of how he could have changed things, if he had known how to, back then.
he was towa's sanctuary back then, and he still was his sanctuary now. except things were just a bit different now that they were together.
still, them being together didn't change the fact that taku just wanted to cure him of his ills and make sure everything was okay. he just wanted to be there for the other man. and yet, he couldn't forget that vivid image of the kid, shoeless, bloodied nails and hands, just wanting his tiny hand to be held, to be comforted, and to feel safe away from his mother. back then when taku was just a twenty five year old man, freshly out of university, having to deal with his mother's death while having to break his promise to keep the kid safe.
the way towa would now scream and thrash around every night, every terror appearing in his dreams just weakening him mentally and draining him from his emotions more and more. he was like a bullied child, just screaming and ruining everything around him as he heard foul words and witnessed grotesque actions. and it made taku so sad to have to see that every night, knowing he could never cure his ills and help him escape and get away from everything ruining his mind.
even though his nightmares ended, his memories didn't. they could just come back every now and then, whenever towa's mind decided to replay them in his head. sometimes taku really just wondered, what if he had actually managed to save haruto from that disgusting place. would he be different now? yes, yes he would. for all taku knew, the kid could have been so much different now, having an actually good mental state, and more importantly, a normal life.
he always tells himself that he did something bad, that he messed up, that he doesn't deserve neither sadness, neither happiness for how he failed that kid. he thought that he deserved to suffer, as much as haruto had suffered. he should be like an heir of grief and guilt. that's what he thought.
"taku?" towa would mumble out upon waking up from his nightmares. he didn't sleep with the eyepatch on anymore, even though he'd usually wear it. the man would look around the room for taku, trying so hard to find his lover's silhouette, searching for that warmth and that kindness, those loving eyes that would always look at him and help him. nothing else in particular was as loving and careful as taku was towards him.
mere seconds later, towa would always look down to his chest, then to the side. staring down, he could always see murase holding his hands gently, rubbing caring circles along his fingers and scarred wrists. to the side, he always saw taku looking at him with sorrow and even a tinge of guilt hidden behind his lovingly gazing eyes.
and towa would smile, knowing he had someone like taku who could help him and guide him through these terrible moments of his nights. he didn't usually show much emotion, however, taku had done something to him. towa didn't know what he did. all he knew was that it was easy to express his feelings in front of taku, unlike in front of others, where he'd remain cold and distant.
"towa?" taku would always ask him, and the painter knew it was him actually asking "what do you want me to do right now, what can make you feel safe?". it was what he always implied with how he said towa's name whenever he'd wake up from terrors.
and the black haired male would just smile gently again and he'd press his body to taku's, his face to his chest, and then he could feel two warm arms enveloping him in a tight embrace, taking his mind off of anything that he had dreamed of before.