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“I’m fine, Dice, you’re worrying over nothing.” He says through a split lip. Gentaro winces as it opens again and floods his mouth with the taste of iron. Dice frowns, sat in front of his friend with a first-aid kit in his lap.
It was just a little territory squabble. A couple of young rappers who’d been so bravery-poisoned that they thought taking on Shibuya’s champions would be a good idea. They were relatively weak, but their bond was strong enough to get a couple good hits in before Dice’s ability spit out a jackpot. And Gentaro’s own ability…
Talk about a triple bar.
He’s frustratingly useless when his opponents aren’t developed enough as rappers. Nothing to borrow from them, leaving Gentaro just as unable to use an ability. Of course, Dice had been standing next to him, with that roulette wheel of an ability. And Dice would allow Gentaro to borrow it in a heartbeat. But the idea of relying that heavily on his friend’s ability left such a bitter taste in his mouth. He could cope with blood and the accompanying lightheadedness instead. Hell, he could even cope with the internal sting and private penance walk for marring these clothes with his own blood.
Of course, this resulted in more injury to himself than he anticipated, and Dice fiddling around with bandage scissors on Gentaro’s bathroom floor. He’s not sure how much he trusts Dice with those. His kosode soaks in the bathtub in an attempt to get the blood out of the fabric, replaced by the warmth of Dice’s coat around his shoulders.
“Yer not fine, I’ve seen better lookin’ corpses.” Dice says, tearing open a package of gauze. He presses it gingerly against his friend’s cheek, and Gentaro sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Sorry. ‘S gonna sting a little.”
“I’m capable of handling disinfectant, Dice.” He says, and frowns as medical tape pulls against his skin. “You needn’t treat me like I’m made of porcelain. I’m perfectly fine.” Dice pulls his hands away, like a sculptor from his work, and shakes his head.
“Gentaro, I think you n’ me have real different definitions of fine.” He says, ripping open another disinfectant pad. “Thought you got your nose broken back there.”
“It’s a scratch , Dice!” Gentaro says in a petulant whine, and barks out a cough when Dice rubs the pad under his nose to wipe away the caked-on blood. Why he couldn’t just use a damp washcloth, Gentaro wasn’t sure. He looks away, towards the bathtub where his kosode soaks.
“Wasn’t so much of a scratch when I was practically carrying you home. What happened out there? Are you alright?”
“Oh, Dice, you’ve found me out.” Gentaro flashes him the biggest, wettest eyes he can muster. “I’ve been struck on the head recently and can barely remember a thing, much less how to rap. Of course, unless a big, handsome gambler who owes me roughly 85,000 yen were to–”
“I paid that back already, Gentaro.” Dice interrupts, almost too quickly at the mention of his debts.
“Oh, using my short-term amnesia to your advantage, I see. Some friend you are.” Dice deflates, and sheepishly returns his attention to the first-aid kit. Gentaro snorts. “I was lying about that. I remember perfectly fine, and you owe me closer to 100,000 yen. And I simply had an off day. Even I am allowed those once in a while.”
Dice whistles out low as he pulls one last bandage from the kit. Gentaro leans back as he tries to press it against his jaw.
“If yer havin’ an off day, then ya should at least let me fix ya up. Would ya stop squirming around? Goddamn.”
“You’re doing a terrible job.” Gentaro’s voice jumps an octave, and he puts a childish twinge on his words. “You haven’t even kissed a singular boo-boo.” He wrinkles his nose once Dice presses the bandage to his skin. Dice pauses, hand still on his friend’s face, and blinks.
“Are you serious?”
“If Ramuda were here, I’d have gotten at least one.” He chides, voice returning to his normal timbre. “I have half a mind to sue you for medical malpractice.”
Dice lets out a long sigh through his nose as he pulls his hands away. He glances from his friend’s eyes, to the bandages and scrapes, and the bruise shadowing his eye. Gentaro opens his mouth to further chide his friend’s attempts at first aid, to further distract him from the original question he posed. Instead, he falls silent at the warm pressure against his cheek at the corner of one of his bandages. It fades, and comes again as Dice kisses the corner of his eye, gentle so as not to hurt him further, though it still comes with a stinging pain. Gentaro’s fingers curl around the edge of Dice’s coat, the open zipper pressing its teeth into his palm.
“There, happy now?” Dice mumbles, and rubs the back of his neck. He won’t look at Gentaro, eyes cast down into the first-aid kit again. Gentaro pauses, drinking in the sight of Dice looking so bashful. He almost doesn’t feel his lip split open again as he smiles and leans forward, nearly crawling into Dice’s lap.
“You missed one very important one, Dice.” He coos, and points to his mouth when Dice glances up at him. “You can’t leave this, can you?”
Dice’s breath nearly comes out in a wheeze. His eyes flicker over Gentaro’s face in search of a tell, even one obscured by gauze and adhesive tape. Though he can’t find it, at least not easily. His throat bobs as he swallows, and finally his gaze falls on Gentaro’s lips. Dice breathes out quickly before he moves, unable to say no to his friend, and their lips crash together. It’s somewhere between a peck and a kiss, certainly short, if only for Gentaro pulling back with a whimper. One hand launches up to his mouth, half to protect it further from any more pain, and half to hide the needling of a blush creeping across his face. He looks at Dice, trying to gauge what exactly was going through his mind to do that. He’ll chalk it up to his being gullible, twisted together with his chronically poor impulse control. Gentaro lowers his hand, a smile pulling at his mouth.
“The gods certainly have it out for me on this day, to wound me further when kissing my beloved.” Gentaro drapes a hand loosely over his forehead. “Alas! Surely I will die.” Gentaro’s words fall into peals of giddy laughter. “You do know I was lying, don’t you? I hardly expected you to kiss it better.”
“Yeah, just…doin’ my due diligence, or whatever.” Dice mumbles, gently wiping his lower lip with his thumb. Gentaro clicks his tongue, and pulls back to sit on his heels. “Yer not gonna ask me to carry ya, are ya?” He asks, still fiddling around with the packages of gauze. Gentaro laughs, suppressing the urge to melodramatically collapse to his side and lament about how he’s not sure he can walk and that Dice needs to carry him to his bedroom across the hall. If only to see him try.
“No, I believe you’ve done enough carrying of me this evening.” Gentaro drawls. “Your services are no longer required. Thank you.” He stands, pressing his palm to the cool mirror over his sink. Perhaps he should have played up the damsel in distress, given how his legs wobble, fawn-like. Dice jumps to his feet, jamming his shoulders up and under Gentaro’s arm to let it dangle loosely around his neck.
“Don’t lie to me.” He chides.
“It’s in my nature.” Gentaro casts his gaze to Dice briefly, and perhaps this is worse than being battered by amateurs and carried home in the first place. “You wouldn’t ask the tides to cease their pull, would you?”
“The tides aren’t you all shaken up.” Dice wraps his arm around Gentaro’s waist. “Quit bein’ stubborn and let me help you out sometimes.” Gentaro freezes for a moment, an icy chill rushing from his chest to the tips of his fingers. Somehow, Dice can find a way to see through the smoke and mirrors of Gentaro’s interactions. Dice’s fingers grip a little tighter to his waist. “You okay?”
“Perfectly fine.”
Dice breathes out an affirmative hum. Gentaro thinks he doesn’t sound convinced.
“Yeah. You got it. Want me to stay the night?”
“You’ve nowhere else to go, I care not whether you wander off into the night or stay by my side as a loyal dog.”
Dice starts towards the bathroom door.
“Alright. Of course I’ll stick around for ya.”