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Ran blinks his eyes open.
He’s not quite sure what woke him up exactly, and lays there for a few seconds before it registers in his mind: his mouth and throat are incredibly dry.
Once he’s thirsty, it’s basically impossible to fall back asleep, Ran knows this. But the task of getting up off of the mattress and walking all the way to the kitchen feels like such a chore. He groans silently, before collecting himself and standing, albeit begrudgingly.
And so he begins his late night trip to the kitchen. …Or early morning? He really can’t tell. The wooden floors creak under his weight every so often—the shabby apartment was only really deemed a habitable and respectable home after the brothers had adorned every little corner with something of their very own. Ran passes by a vase, housing a majestic (yet slowly wilting) pink flower that he’s forgotten the name of. It hasn’t seen the sunlight in quite a while, and it’s hard to make out in the darkness, but it’s definitely there. Rindou had given it to him on his birthday, and he’s been trying his absolute best to water it since then, when he does remember.
He remembers Rindou telling him that it held some sort of special meaning, but trying to remember it is useless anyway, since his train of thought is lost as he enters the kitchen.
He rummages through the top cupboard in search of a clean glass, eventually retrieving it and placing it on the counter as he steps towards the fridge. He yanks the handle open lazily and grabs the first bottle of water he sees, immediately pouring it into the glass and downing it in one go. He pours himself another glass before finally returning the bottled water to its place.
Ran starts to make his way back to his room, before pausing suddenly. He’s hyper-aware of the sweat sticking to his skin, which allows for his clothes to cling to his figure in an uncomfortable way. It’s almost unbearable, how hot it is. He stands there, contemplating, before sighing in exasperation and making his way to the living room to turn the old air conditioner on.
It’s a shame that he couldn’t have an air conditioner of his own in his room, but the brothers had to make do with what they had, and that included only having one air conditioner in the entire freakin’ house. The air conditioner comes alive with the click of a button, its low rumbling sound filling the room. It’ll take a long while before the entire house is cooled down, but it’s worth the wait, at least to Ran. It’s better than being cooked alive, he thinks.
He pads out of the living room, now actually going back to his room. He’s grumbling something under his breath, a complaint about how hot it is, when he spots the soft yellow light trickling out from underneath the bathroom door. Rin’s probably in the bathroom, he acknowledges, and continues his languid trip back.
A thud makes the older Haitani stop in his tracks.
It’s a small, quiet sound, but after years of having to stay alert in his surroundings, he’s become accustomed to picking up such things.
He strains his ears to try and hear anything else, but the sound of the faucet running is all he can discern. Then, he hears a broken ‘shit,’ followed by a muffled sob and some rustling.
Ran quietly makes his way toward the bathroom door and presses his ear against it, his concern rising. He comes up empty, unable to hear any movement.
He decides to knock.
“Rindou? Is everything okay?” he asks. His voice is relaxed and unwavering, masking his inner panic.
Silence.
As it draws on longer, Ran’s concern rises even higher. Something’s wrong with his little brother.
“Can I come in?” he tries again.
Still, no response.
He has to do something, so he prepares himself for anything he might see, and opens the door. It takes a few moments for his eyes to get used to the light, but when they finally adjust, he’s greeted with the sight of his younger brother curled into himself. He’s pressed into the corner of the bathroom, his face hidden away. Agonizing sobs wrack his figure, barely heard over the sound of running water from the sink, and he looks so small.
“Rindou?” Ran steps closer. When his brother is unresponsive, he leans into his space.
He flinches, burying himself further into the corner he’s situated in. He’s subtly rocking his body back and forth—a self-soothing motion—in an attempt to calm himself down, Ran assumes.
He makes the mistake of brushing against his brother’s shoulder as he repositions himself.
Rindou reacts immediately. He recoils as if he’s been burnt, his breath picking up. His attempt to calm himself down spirals into frantic shaking, and he somehow manages to make himself appear even smaller.
Ran clicks his tongue. Fuck. He reaches a hand out, before dropping it, realizing that sudden touch would probably send Rindou even further into his panicked state. So instead, he leans against the wall, still crouching, a decent distance away from his brother. Giving him a comfortable amount of space.
Rindou’s hyperventilating doesn’t seem to stop, though, if anything it seems to worsen. He pulls at a few strands of his blonde and black hair, making it even more of a mess than it already was. Ran can tell it’s painful, as a quiet whimper escapes his brother and he seems to release his grip in the slightest way.
What’d people usually do to comfort someone during an episode like this?
Ran’s gaze falls on Rindou, shaking and hyperventilating. He simply watches for a few seconds, pushing his own panic out of his head in order to get a chance to think clearly.
Ran decides he should focus on calming Rin’s breathing. Him passing out right now is the last thing they need.
He takes a deep breath in, and then exhales slowly, at a higher volume than you’d expect for someone to be breathing at. However, it works, because Rindou slowly catches on, mimicking his breathing pattern. At first, his breaths are ragged, but as the minutes draw by, they gradually even out.
They spend several long, drawn-out minutes quietly next to each other. He’s reluctant to break the silence as he turns in Rindou’s direction and his eyes fall on his form.
He’s careful not to touch him this time as he scoots closer. “Rindou. Look at me.”
Rindou lifts his face ever so slightly, allowing his eyes to peek out from over his knees. His round glasses must’ve been discarded to the side, because they’re not present, and his eyes are red with tears.
Seeing that Rindou’s listening, he tries again this time, his voice gentle. “What’s wrong?”
A long silence follows. Ran’s almost worried that he won’t respond again, when finally, Rindou speaks. It’s a low mumble, and Ran needs to ask him to repeat himself to catch what he’s saying.
“…‘m dirty.” His eyes dart towards the bathroom floor, not meeting his older brother’s gaze. His voice is hoarse, scratchy, from crying.
Ran is still, unmoving even while squatting like he is. He’s dazed, a look of puzzlement on his face and a furrowed brow.
“You’re… dirty.” Ran repeats slowly.
“My hands.” His voice wavers.
Ran pushes his quizzical look away, and instead opts to pause for a moment in thought. He has to think of this from Rindou’s point of view, so that maybe he’ll understand the situation better that way.
He blinks. “Your hands,” he murmurs, “can I see them?”
The younger holds his hands out, wincing as they brush against his sweater as he moves them—they’ve been scrubbed raw. Ran sucks in his breath sharply. The skin is cracked and red, with some of the scrapes leaking droplets of blood. His attention is drawn to Rindou’s fingers—the skin on them is rough and calloused from repeated picking, a harsh color of pinkish red. The picking seems to have been done over the course of months, maybe even years, and Ran’s going to beat himself up for not noticing sooner afterwards, but right now he needs his full attention directed on Rindou.
His younger brother is searching his face for even the smallest sign of disapproval or annoyance. As Ran’s eyes move to make eye contact with him, Rindou directs his gaze away from him. Nervous tell, Ran notices, but doesn’t comment.
Instead, he stands to his full height. “I’m going to grab the first-aid kit,” he says. As he’s leaving, he turns the faucet off.
Rindou revels in the sudden quietness of the room as Ran’s footsteps become softer. It seems to drown out his thoughts, somehow, leaving him alone. It’s just him. His body relaxes, the tension in his jaw gone. He heaves a sigh.
Rindou doesn’t know how long it takes for Ran to return with the first-aid kit. His sense of time is pretty warped as it is anyway. All he knows is that it feels like a while.
Ran steps into the bathroom with the first-aid kit dangling from one hand. He settles down onto the tiled floor next to Rindou, sitting cross-legged, and brings the kit into his lap.
“Mind if you show me your hands again?” Ran murmurs, and Rindou nods, extending his hands. They’re a lot less red than before, but some of the cuts on the skin look like they need a good rinse before anything else.
Placing a stable hand on Rindou’s back, Ran helps his brother stand. “Think you can run your hands under cold water?”
Rindou swallows, his throat dry, but nods. He makes his way toward the sink, staring at himself in the mirror for a short moment before getting on with it.
He hesitates to touch the knob—Ran doesn’t miss it—and instead uses the sleeve of his sweater. Water runs from the faucet down into the sink drain, and he tentatively brings both hands under the water. His entire body seems to flinch as the water makes contact, it stings at first, but untenses a bit as the seconds draw on. He swiftly dries his hands and turns the tap off with his sleeve.
As he sits himself back in his previous spot, Ran’s already opening the first-aid kit. He rummages through the contents with an almost annoyed expression—probably at how unorganized it was, although it was his own fault that it was so messy, since he was the one who used it last. Rindou almost snorts at this.
Finally, he triumphantly pulls out the antibiotic ointment and the bandages that he was looking for. Turning back to Rindou, he motions for him to move closer, which he does, and for him to show him his hands again.
Rindou’s brain is brought to a halt. It seems to be evident on his face, because Ran’s tilting his head inquiringly.
“Somethin’ the matter?” Ran asks.
“M’hands. They’re dirty, I… I can’t.” Rindou mutters in reply, almost inaudibly.
Ran almost doesn’t know how to respond to that.
Almost, because as if it’s second nature, Ran pulls his younger brother in for a hug. Rindou’s shocked at first, it shows on his face, before he melts into his brother’s comforting touch like putty. He hiccups, another sob torn from him, and buries his face into the crook of Ran’s neck. He breathes in his brother’s expensive cologne, the familiar scent grounding him.
“By the looks of it,” Ran murmurs, his voice dropping to a low whisper, “your hands seem pretty clean to me.”
A long silence prompts him to continue. “Y’know… washing your hands for as long as you did—which was pretty freakin’ long, as it seems—got rid of all the dirt n’ whatnot.”
“…You sure?” Rin pulls away from his embrace to stare at him tentatively, his expression a sharp contrast to his puffy eyes and reddened nose. Ran has to suppress a chortle. It’d be rude—still pretty funny, though.
He grins, “I’m one million percent sure.” It’s the kind of grin where the person’s eyes are closed, fully encompassing the emotions someone holds. He offers stability, confidence, to balance out Rindou’s doubts.
Rindou offers a hesitant (and somewhat lopsided) smile back, holding out his injured hands so that Ran can patch them up. He’s not entirely positive that his brother’s answer is genuine, but he trusts him with his life. He’d rather believe whatever he said was true than doubt him. …Saying something like that out loud, however, is an entirely different story. When it comes to that, he’d rather choke on a cactus.
“Could you get on with it, then?” Rindou nods toward the tube of antibiotic ointment in Ran’s hand.
“Yeah, alright, quit your whining,” Ran retorts, but he’s not exactly irritated. Quite the opposite, actually—he looks amused, his lips slightly upturned at the edges.
He watches with hooded eyes as he applies the ointment on broken skin, trying to speed up the process as Rindou hisses long strings of curses under his breath.
After applying the ointment, he moves to wrap Rindou’s hands with the bandages he’d retrieved. Even the slightest touch sets Rindou’s nerves on fire, so Ran believes it to be better if he just wrapped the entire thing up to avoid that. He struggles a bit to fully wrap both hands, especially with his brother’s nonstop twitching, but it’s definitely worth it in the end.
By the end of it all, Rindou’s eyelids are rather droopy, and he’s fighting to even stay awake at this point. He attempts to wiggle stiff fingers, drowsily eyeing the bandages.
“Alright, we’re finally done, now,” he pauses, turning his head to look at Rindou. He’s melting into the floor, a frown on his face.
Ran huffs a breathy laugh, fully knowing what comes next. As Rindou starts to open his mouth, Ran’s already crouching low with his arms outstretched. He promptly shuts his mouth, clambering onto his brother’s back and wrapping his arms around his neck. With Ran supporting his thighs, they begin to tread back down the dim-lit hallway to Ran’s room.
During the entire way there, Rindou sports the most contented expression ever known to mankind as he blinks sleepily, resting his head on Ran’s shoulders with a relaxed grin on his face.
And as Ran sets him down on his bed, planning on sleeping next to Rindou tonight, he mumbles softly, “Hey, Ran?”
“Hm?”
He rolls over and buries his face into the pillow beside him, continuing with a muffled “Thank you.”
Ran stops, slightly taken aback, before replying with a smug, “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
But there’s no need to, really, because both of them know quite well that Ran heard him, no matter how quietly he’d said it.
And Rindou knows Ran’s going to tease him for it later, but in that moment, it doesn’t really matter.
Nothing really matters, except for the warm smile on his older brother’s face and the promise of “I’ll always be here for you.”