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Kaito is woken up about half an hour past midnight to his phone buzzing up a storm on his nightstand. He lifts his head blearily, reaching blindly through the darkness to reach for the device. Once he has it, he doesn’t bother checking caller ID—assuming that it’ll have to be something important for them to be calling him at this time of night—before hitting the green button and bringing the phone to his ear. He answers with some vague approximation of the word hello but what probably sounds more like an incoherent, two-syllable grunt.
“H-Hey, Momota-san—sorry, did—did I wake you?”
He recognises Rantaro’s voice immediately, though the difference in his usual manner of speaking is so stark that Kaito suddenly becomes alert, gripping his phone more tightly and sitting up. Rantaro’s voice shakes, as though his teeth are chattering, and he sounds a bit hoarse, too.
“No—I mean, yeah, shit, you woke me up, but forget about that—you okay, dude? What happened?” Kaito’s brow knits and he sits forward. “Wasn’t your flight getting in tonight?”
“U-Uh, well, it did, haha,” Rantaro laughs, but it’s a high-pitched and shaky sound. “I called a car to get home, but—well, I guess I’m actually kind of lucky, huh? Most people would’ve k-killed me or something.”
He’s being awfully nonchalant about this, as he always is about scary things. Kaito is already shuffling out of bed, feeling around on the floor for a sweatshirt. “Amami, you’re not making any sense.”
“Right, sorry, sorry. My Uber driver… mugged me? Is it considered a mugging in that case? He took all my belongings and my jacket and dumped me in the middle of nowhere.” Rantaro chuckles, but Kaito can still hear the shaken undertone in his laugh. It presses a finer sense of urgency into him. He locates his sweatshirt and yanks it over his head. “I managed to find a bus stop, but I don’t have any money… I probably could’ve found my way back, but it’s a bit cold, and my phone battery is low, so I—”
“You don’t gotta justify yourself,” Kaito interrupts. He pushes his way out of his bedroom and scoops his keys from the bowl by his door. “I’m coming, just tell me where you are. Or—maybe text it, I can just put it into Google Maps that way. Can you find somewhere warm to sit? Like a coffee shop or something?”
“Uh—” Rantaro shivers audibly. “Maybe? It looks like everything is closed…”
Damn. Did they have to take Rantaro’s coat, too? Kaito swears, if he ever encounters this jackass of an Uber driver in public, it’s all over for him.
“Look, don’t worry about it. Just try to stay warm. Don’t take off any layers, try to keep moving to get your blood pumping. I’ll be there soon, yeah? Just sit tight.” Kaito rushes out without locking the door, taking the steps two at a time until he reaches the bottom and jumps, then jogs through the lobby to get to the parking lot.
“Okay,” Rantaro mumbles. He’s quiet for a moment before he says, “Sorry about this, Momota-san… I just—” He pauses again, hesitant, and then murmurs, “I didn’t know—I didn’t want to call my father, and aside from him…”
“Hey, cut that out.” Kaito unlocks his car and slides into the driver’s seat. “No apologies, okay? This is just what friends do.” He sandwiches the phone between his ear and shoulder as he jams his key into the ignition. “Text me that address, man. I’ll be there sooner than you can even think my name.”
Aided by the power of GPS, speeding, and the fact that the streets are miraculously empty at one in the morning on a Sunday, Kaito gets to Rantaro’s location in just half an hour. He’s not hard to spot, standing by a bus post in a thin-looking long-sleeved tee and with his arms wrapped around himself. Kaito parks his car—illegally—and rushes out the door to get to Rantaro’s side, chewing the inside of his cheek so he won’t react to the chilling gust of wind that hits him as he makes his way over. Rantaro looks up when he approaches and smiles, the audacity of him, but he’s shaking all over, grip on his own elbows white-knuckled.
Kaito doesn’t hesitate in shrugging off his sweatshirt and pulling it down over Rantaro instead, then dragging him in close. Even against the biting cold, Rantaro is freezing where his nose presses into the juncture between Kaito’s jaw and shoulder. He seems to melt into Kaito’s arms, shuddering, and Kaito drags him in even closer, tucking his chin against Rantaro’s back.
“Hey,” Kaito mumbles eventually. He rubs Rantaro’s back to try and warm him up, dragging his fingers through the fabric of his own sweatshirt. The purple looks good on Rantaro—which Kaito is not going to think about during a crisis situation like this, Jesus Christ, what is wrong with him? “I’m sorry, I drove as fast as I could.”
“I saw,” Rantaro laughs, muffled, into Kaito’s neck. “You drove in here like some kind of maniac. Are you sure I should get into a car with you?”
“What the hell,” Kaito huffs, mocking exasperation. Rantaro laughs again, more of a wheeze than a real sound of amusement, and any indignation melts off of Kaito’s face. He sighs, squeezing Rantaro tighter. “C’mon, let’s get you into my car—least it’s warm in there. We should stop by the hospital, too.”
Rantaro grumbles, but nonetheless allows Kaito to start leading him over to his car. “I’d rather go home to a hot bath and a cup of cocoa,” he complains. “I have credit cards to cancel. Can’t do that on no charge from a hospital bed.”
That’s true… Kaito considers that as he opens the passenger side door for Rantaro, reluctantly letting go of him so he can jog to the backseat where he keeps a couple blankets. He gathers the both of them and returns to where Rantaro has carefully tucked himself inside, dumping both of the blankets on top of them.
Muffled from beneath the pile, Rantaro lets out an oof.
“Sorry,” Kaito apologises. He finds Rantaro’s hair somewhere amidst all the yarn and ruffles it, then closes the door. He jogs back over to his side of the car and slips back in, starting the engine again. “You can use my phone,” he suggests, though he doesn’t look over at Rantaro despite the urge to catch his expression in the interest of paying attention to the road. “They can’t be so intense about security to dismiss ya just for doing it from an unknown number, can they?”
“Well, I guess it’s worth a shot,” Rantaro admits. He lets out a faint, sad-sounding chuckle. Unable to help himself, Kaito glances over, only to see that Rantaro has buried his face into the mass of blankets. Just a tuft of green hair sticks out on top. In this position, Kaito only barely manages to catch the quiet sigh he lets out. “I’m sorry, Momota-san. You went out of your way to pick me up already and now you have to go even further.”
Kaito frowns. “What’d I say about apologising, man? Besides, it’s not like I was doing anything important.”
“...Sleeping?”
“Not as important as you!” Kaito insists with a huff. “Look, if I didn’t wanna get up, I just wouldn’t have answered, y’know? It’s pretty easy to dismiss a call, and you probably wouldn’t have called me again if I already told you no. What’re you sitting here feeling bad about?”
There’s a moment of quiet from Rantaro’s end. Kaito keeps his eyes on the road, but wishes he could see the other man’s face, if only to see what he’s thinking. Eventually, Rantaro says, “But I knew that you would pick up. Sure, you could have dismissed my call, but… you wouldn’t have, and I knew that.”
Kaito can’t deny the surge of satisfaction that hits when Rantaro says that. It’s probably inappropriate, he just can’t help it. It feels nice to be somebody that Rantaro can rely on. The guy’s been so isolated since the day they met. That Kaito could convey to him that he’d be there no matter what in a way that sticks with him… of course he’s glad about it.
“That doesn’t mean you were taking advantage of me,” Kaito says quietly. He pulls onto the highway now. It’s not a long ride to the nearest hospital. “You were just relying me as your friend, just like I’ve always said you should, right? So why sweat it?” He glances over at Rantaro again, then takes a hand off the wheel to rest it where he thinks Rantaro’s shoulder is. “Just take it easy, man. I said I’d be here, and I am. You can return the favour for me some other time.”
A beat, and then, “You promise?”
“Promise what?”
“That I can return the favour?” Rantaro peeks out from the blankets with a single, watery green eye. Kaito’s chest squeezes and he forces his gaze to focus on the road. “I never know how to help you, Momota-san. I don’t want to be accepting favours without giving back.”
Well, really, how is Kaito supposed to respond to that? Heroes aren’t supposed to accept help, no matter who it’s from, even if it’s from Rantaro, who is kind and patient and smiles at Kaito sometimes like he’s… smart, like he’s important, who makes Kaito’s stomach do flips.
Damnit.
“Yeah, Amami, I promise,” Kaito says. His voice comes out a bit thick so he clears his throat. “When I need you, I’ll give you a ring.” He’ll just have to not need him. “Sound good?”
Rantaro’s shoulder relaxes beneath Kaito’s touch. “Okay.” He shifts for a moment, and then adds, “Do you think you could… stay with me at the hospital?”
The tension eases from Kaito’s own shoulders now, too. Thank god. “Of course I can, man. I won’t go anywhere until you want me to leave. That’s a promise, too.”