Archive of Our Own

After surviving the Wolf Canyon, Kyoya thought he would never be scared of anything again.

He was wrong.

There are many things in the world that scare him, some of which he has already had to face during his travels. Others, that he hopes never to encounter. But with his luck, it's inevitable.

It's not like he leads the safest life he can, anyway. He frequently and willingly puts himself in dangerous situations in order to become faster, stronger, more likely to survive the next catastrophe.

He is already plenty strong. There are not many people who can claim to be stronger than him. Maybe that's why he grows complacent.

To be as safe as possible while putting himself in dangerous situations is not weakness. Kyoya knows that but that doesn't mean he always takes the necessary precautions. Maybe anyone would become overconfident after surviving everything he has. Maybe this is simply Kyoya's fatal flaw, a negligence of his own making that will inevitably be his downfall.

Literally, in this instance.

In the split second after he loses his grip on the rock before him, his shoes slipping from the narrow foothold they had found, but before he actually feels himself falling, there is no panic. Yes, he gasps in surprise, lips parting with no scream leaving his throat, eyes widening; and of course, he tries to catch himself, fingers scratching over the almost vertical wall of the cliff but not finding purchase. Still, he doesn't scream and he doesn't flail in alarm.

He expected something like this to happen. Someday.

At one point or another, this would be the inevitable end of him, considering the life he's lived so far. Maybe this is a little early and it's not like he wanted this to happen. But it's happening now. Not much he can do about it.

Then he actually, horrifyingly, feels himself fall and the panic finally kicks in, consuming him entirely.

The fall seems endless and rushing past him in seconds at the same time. His stomach churns with the terrifying speed the ground comes closer, hurtling towards him. He can't think, can't make himself move, do anything to stop this.

And then, something grabs him by the shoulders and yanks him upwards with a jerk strong enough to border on painful.

They don't come to a complete halt, whatever has taken hold of him still getting dragged down by Kyoya's weight and momentum, but their descent is much more controlled now than the way Kyoya was plunging towards his death before.

When they reach the ground, Kyoya thanks every deity he can think of that he remembers to hold his limbs close, tuck in his chin, and roll with the ungentle landing, somehow managing not to break every bone in his body in the process.

Well. There are at least a few bones he has broken. Still an improvement to the alternative.

He groans, the pain piercing his leg just above the knee a relief because it means he is alive. His head throbs and his ears are ringing. For a moment, all Kyoya can do is screw his eyes shut and try to calm his racing heart. He has to collect himself, ignore the pain for long enough to call for help. There is no way he can get to the nearest hospital by himself. He can't even move.

Something moves behind him, a quiet rustle of feathers, a too loud cawing right by his ear. At least, that's what it feels like. God, his head is killing him. He might have a concussion.

When Kyoya blinks his eyes open, he sees a giant bald eagle sitting on the ground beside him, staring at him curiously. Right. That's what must have broken his fall, he thinks dazedly. But. That doesn't really make sense. Wild animals don't usually behave like this. Do they?

Kyoya's thoughts clear a little when the eagle suddenly glows a bright purple and disappears like a leaf in the wind. It's a bitbeast. That makes so much more sense. He had completely forgotten that Tsubasa was even there, climbing the rock wall alongside him, just a few meters beneath himself. That is a definite yes for the concussion, then. Tsubasa must have used his bey to slow Kyoya's fall, just enough to not kill him on impact. He doesn't want to think about what would have happened if Tsubasa's reaction had been even a little bit slower.

Just as his eyes are fluttering closed again, Kyoya sees Tsubasa approaching him with hurried steps. The look on his face is not one Kyoya is used to, fear etched into the wrinkles between his brows, his mouth pinched tight in worry. Kyoya tries to roll his eyes at him but the attempt alone hurts so much it makes him dizzy with nausea.

"Stop that," he tells Tsubasa. "I'm fine." And then he immediately passes out.

--

Tsubasa is not having a great day.

His hands are still shaking when he catches Eagle from where he landed next to Kyoya’s prone body. There are openly bleeding cuts on the palms of his hands from carelessly slicing them on the wall of the cliff in his haste to get to the ground, to get to Kyoya and see if he is alive, as fast as possible.

It's been a long time since Tsubasa had a close call like that.

Traveling with Yu always has him on high alert because Yu is still young and so unbelievably reckless. He had let his guard down around Kyoya, thought him capable and strong enough to stand victorious against any hardships they may encounter together.

But accidents happen.

Some of the tension that has a vice grip around his frantically beating heart drains from him when he sees Kyoya dazed but conscious on the ground. His unfocused gaze meets Tsubasa's worried one. He mumbles something unintelligible, the words too slurred for Tsubasa to understand properly. Then, his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Instead of panicking like he wants to, Tsubasa pauses to take a deep breath and take stock of the situation. Kyoya seems pretty banged-up but nothing seems to be bleeding too badly. His pulse is steady, his breath even. Tsubasa carefully pats him down for injuries and finds a big bump on the back of his head which probably points towards a concussion. His right arm and leg are both broken. Heavens know what else could be sprained. His back, when Tsubasa gently rolls him on his side and lifts his shirt, is mottled with black and blue bruises.

At least, he is alive.

If Tsubasa hadn't reacted in time-

If Kyoya had been alone-

There is no point in dwelling on what ifs. Silently thanking the amount of first aid training his line of work has required of him, Tsubasa gets to work on creating a sling and splint out of the fabric of his pant legs for Kyoya's broken limbs. It will be impossible to move Kyoya without immobilizing his arm and leg first. And they cannot possibly stay here. There is no reception out here in the mountains, surrounded by sheer cliffs as they are. The next town is hours away but it's the only option they have. Kyoya may seem to have gotten away with just a few bruises and broken bones but Tsubasa can't be sure there isn't internal bleeding or some other, life-threatening injury, can he?

It's a pity that Tsubasa doesn't have any kind of fabric to fashion a make-shift stretcher to carry Kyoya with. They didn't think to bring anything with them on this trip except their beys and the clothes on their back. Considering that both of them are wearing nothing more than cropped shirts and pants, Tsubasa doesn't think the fabric of their clothes is suitable for a stretcher. On top of that, Kyoya's injuries make it hard to hold onto him without worsening his condition, and Kyoya being unconscious and practically dead weight makes it harder still.

In the end, Tsubasa decides to carry Kyoya on his back, glad that he can use Eagle to help and hold Kyoya still, so that he doesn't have to pull on his broken arm to get him high enough that Tsubasa is able to get a good grip under his legs and heave him up. On his own, this would have been a lot harder, if not impossible.

Kyoya doesn't make a sound when Tsubasa adjusts his grip on his unconscious body. He assumes, if Kyoya is in pain, he will probably wake up sooner or later. For now, his comfort doesn't have priority. The only thing Tsubasa can focus on is getting them out of these mountains and hopefully somewhere they can get help.

Their surroundings are quiet but Tsubasa has a persisting whirring sound in his ears. Adrenaline is still running through his veins. As long as he doesn't know if Kyoya's life is still in danger, he cannot relax. He won't allow it.

--

The journey is uneventful, for the most part. There is nothing to see here, mountains and rocks and the occasional tree, some birds flying overhead. Kyoya doesn't wake except to mumble nonsense into the crown of Tsubasa's hair. His breath is steady against Tsubasa's neck and that sensation, which would usually become annoying quickly, comforts him a lot.

There isn't an official path for Tsubasa to follow. When they came here, they left the hiking trails pretty quickly and made their own way into the wilderness. This was supposed to be a training trip, originally. Of course, they wanted it to be hard and unpredictable. How else would they learn and grow stronger from this?

Tsubasa regrets it now, a little bit. He has no idea if he is even still going in the right direction. When he climbed down the cliff, he remembered the approximate direction they came from and tried to head that same way. But the terrain is unchanging and tricky. There are no landmarks that can help him keep the same route, the sun is still high in the sky so not even the stars can guide him in at least a vague direction. Tsubasa can only walk forward and hope for the best.

Truth be told, it's a little boring.

Although it would be helpful to see the stars, Tsubasa is grateful for the sun wandering over the sky above along with him. The terrain would become even harder to navigate in the darkness and the mountains get cold at night. Nightfall would also be a sure sign that he took a wrong turn somewhere because he and Kyoya should not have gotten that far from the nearest town when the accident happened. He just hopes that they'll reach the town before they are forced to camp in the wilderness.

It takes a few hours but after a while, long after Tsubasa's feet and arms started hurting, sweat beading on his temples, his breath getting heavier, he hears the quiet gurgle of water break the idyllic stillness of nature that he has gotten used to. He follows the sound instinctively. His throat is parched, his muscles tired. His mind won't stop repeating everything he imagines could go wrong here.

Tsubasa climbs a small boulder, careful not to jostle Kyoya on his back too much with his movement, and finds a creek half-hidden behind bushes and stones. The creek is barely five feet wide and just deep enough that the water would lap around his calves were he to wade into it.

The thought alone, of stepping into the cold water, washing the sweat from his skin, wetting his dry throat, makes Tsubasa move unconsciously closer. There is a lone tree growing near the water's edge, providing meager shade. He slowly lowers himself to the ground there, and positions Kyoya as gently as he can with his back to the trunk. Kyoya's head lolls to the side a little, his shoulders slumped, posture uncommonly slackened in his unconsciousness.

Tsubasa looks at him for a second, the dried blood on his temple obscured by his bangs, and can almost imagine him blinking awake lazily, as if he had simply been napping in the shade while they had paused for a break on their trip. With sleep still weighing down his movements, he would start to look around and eventually meet Tsubasa's amused gaze. If Kyoya caught him looking, he would no doubt regain his composure in seconds, the sharpness returning to his eyes, a defensive snarl on his lips. Tsubasa would snort and make an offhand remark that would have Kyoya on his feet and arguing back instinctively. Their banter would continue long after they left this little resting place behind and continued on with their journey.

It's a scenario that has happened many times in the past when Kyoya and Tsubasa would go on trips to train together. It's not hard to imagine how Kyoya would react to certain things.

But it is near impossible to imagine Kyoya never waking up from this again.

Lost in thought as he is, Tsubasa makes his way slowly towards the streamside and crouches down. He leans in to cup some water in the palms of his hands and meets his own gaze in the glittering reflection. There is dirt and dust coating his skin, his hair is sticking to the sides of his face with sweat, and a smudge of dark blood on his chin makes it look bruised almost, probably from the cuts he sustained on his hands when he climbed down the rock face in his panicked haste. His hands are dirty and bloodied, too. It's weird how he didn't even register the pain the whole time he was carrying Kyoya on his back.

It's been a few hours and the cuts have crusted over already. Tsubasa washes the nastiness clinging to him, his hands and his face and every strip of exposed skin, as much as he is able to. Finally, he cups some water in his hands and drinks greedily.

By the time he remembers that they brought a water flask with them, most of his thirst is satisfied. Still, he opens the small belt bag slung over one shoulder to get it out. It can't hurt to have some extra water on hand. Tsubasa likes thinking practically.

In retrospect, he should have noticed that he is more exhausted than he realized. His exhaustion makes him clumsy.

One moment he is blindly fishing for the metal flask in his bag, the next he jostles his phone with a careless movement and launches it into the water. It lands with a conclusive plop, sinking along with his heart into the bottom of his stomach.

"Shit! No, please, no, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Frantically, he sets into motion, diving after their last lifeline, water splashing everywhere. He kneels down in the middle of the creek and plunges his hands inside, more than elbow deep, searching through the disturbed and whirling sand for the device.

Gods, he is so stupid. Fumbling in what is probably one of the most crucial moments he has yet encountered, idiotic, careless, irresponsible. He is holding Kyoya's life in his hands and foolishly making a mistake that he might never get the chance to atone for. Fuck.

"Fuck!" he swears out loud and then his fingers finally close around hard plastic.

He rushes out of the water, desperate to see if the phone is still working, if he actually let their best bet for survival dissolve between his fingers, negligent and helpless. His clothes feel heavy, soaked from him kneeling in the middle of the creek, shoes squelching uncomfortably with every hurried step.

Right there on the stream bank he crouches a little, curling himself almost protectively around the device in his hands, praying wordlessly that it will turn on. He hits the button on the side and waits.

And waits.

The screen stays black.

Tsubasa's chest feels tight with anxiety.

He hits the button again.

He stares at the screen.

Waits.

The screen still stays black.

Abruptly, Tsubasa straightens and yells, swearing wordlessly, but so furiously angry at himself. How could he have let himself be so careless? Usually, he prides himself on his calm demeanor even in uncertain circumstances. He manages to keep a cool head when everyone else is panicking, hyperventilating, even giving up. He is the best bet in dangerous situations, the one who makes the right decisions, who thinks in ways that are practical and analytical, who maneuvers everyone into safer positions. Why now of all times does he make a mistake like this? That his mind and his skills fail him?

He yells again, no distinct words coming out of his mouth, just rage. He kicks at the small, smooth rocks at the side of the creek. They spray in a wide arc, landing with soft plops inside the water.

Tsubasa turns around and catches sight of Kyoya still leaning against the tree, right where he placed him. He feels himself deflate, anger draining out of him, making room for anxiety and dread. Fear.

There is no time for him to be angry.

This is not the right moment for what ifs. Kyoya is still hurt, and they are still lost but the day isn't over, yet. They have a few hours of sunlight left until nightfall. It would be smarter to get moving again and hope for some luck.

He crouches down with his back towards Kyoya, close enough that he can grab Kyoya's arms and drape them over his shoulders. It's easier this time with Kyoya already sitting up, with the trunk as a hard surface to brace themselves against. With a quiet groan, he heaves Kyoya up, making sure he is positioned securely and not in danger of tilting backwards down Tsubasa's back.

Kyoya's head tips forward, resting gently against the crook of Tsubasa's neck, his ear pressed low to Tsubasa's jaw. Once again, the feeling of Kyoya's soft breaths against his skin is doing wonders in calming his racing heart.

Tsubasa shivers a little when a breeze hits him in his wet clothing. It's going to be uncomfortable for a while to wander around in his current state, but the sun should dry his clothes relatively quickly. Plus, the exercise will probably have him back to panting and sweating in no time. He is not looking forward to that. Hopefully, they will find civilization soon.

With no other choice but to continue moving, Tsubasa picks a direction and leaves the unlucky creek behind.

So he walks.

The terrain is still unchanging, trees, and rocks, and the occasional bird decorating the scenery. Tsubasa's feet start to hurt ten minutes into it, the wet socks he is wearing chafing against the sensitive skin of his ankles with every step. At the same time, the sun beats down from above. The ends of his hair that he accidentally dipped into the water before are dry again in no time, and then back to wet, but this time with sweat. It's uncomfortable. It's probably what he deserves.

With nothing to distract himself, his thoughts keep wandering back to his mistake, to the phone in his bag that won't turn on, to the thing that could be what will kill Kyoya in what? A few hours? A few days? If he at least knew, how bad Kyoya's condition actually is-

What would that change, ultimately? Tsubasa would find help faster? How? Would it really be helpful if there was a timer counting down the hours until he is too late? He has already failed once because he wasn't thinking and acted carelessly. What else would he mess up if he grew frantic and hurried? Careless but in a different way. He doesn't know which one would be worse and he doesn't intend to find out.

No more mistakes. He cannot afford them.

The trees are becoming denser, the beginnings of a sparse forest growing around them, when Kyoya sluggishly starts to move on his back. Tsubasa is so surprised that he almost stumbles, tightening his grip on Kyoya's thighs unconsciously, which in turn makes Kyoya inhale sharply in pain.

Tsubasa can't see his face but he imagines his eyes opening promptly, gaze darting around with its usual alertness, taking in their surroundings and the situation he finds himself in.

As if on cue, Kyoya starts to squirm. "Let me down," he demands. The pain is obvious in his voice, a tightness pressing down on his usual assured tone from all sides, gritted teeth and slurred words. "I can walk."

Tsubasa has to hold onto him, forcing himself not to drop him through his struggling. "You can't walk, you have a broken leg."

He doesn't mean to but he squeezes said leg a little when he says it and Kyoya's next breath is a hiss like hot air through a leak in a pipe. He stills, breathes in deeply, his fingers crinkling Tsubasa's shirt at the shoulder.

"Don't move," Tsubasa warns him, worried about every noise Kyoya emits no doubt unwillingly. He can picture Kyoya's face easily. Expression twisted in a grimace with every new stab of pain, lips pressed into a thin line, not letting any more noises escape if he can help it. His shirt is still stretched tight across his shoulders. He doesn't mind Kyoya holding onto it like he is, like his life depends on it. As long as it helps.

Tsubasa doesn't stop moving through the whole ordeal. The growing forest surrounding them has motivated him a little because he remembers walking with Kyoya through trees when they first arrived. Kyoya waking up helps even more. At least it doesn't feel like he is lugging around a corpse anymore.

After a few minutes of silence, interspersed with the occasional grunt or hiss from Kyoya, Kyoya decides to speak up again.

"Where are we?" His words sound like they're being forced from him, like he tried to keep them behind his teeth and failed. Bitten. Unclear.

Tsubasa wishes he had a better answer for him. Something to give him hope, for him to cling to, that would give him the strength to persist for longer. But he doesn't. And he doesn't want to lie to him.

"I don't know."

Of course, Kyoya zeroes in on the hint of defeat in his voice. "Don't pity me," he bites, "or yourself, or this."

He doesn't specify what this is but he doesn't need to. This situation. The accident, the injuries, them being lost and hurt and without a plan. This whole entire disastrous day.

Again, his voice is like chewed up gum, stretching and stretching until it finally comes loose. Torturously slow. Against his will and against better judgement.

His head rests heavily against the side of Tsubasa's neck. It lolls with every movement, every accidental jostle, like he can't control it, like it isn't part of him, too unwieldy and too alien to move like he wants it to. Right. He has a concussion. The heavy slur, thick like molasses, coating every word around a slow tongue, makes a lot of sense now. Inwardly, Tsubasa corrects the way he pictures Kyoya right now, his eyes less bright and alert, features more slack, every movement slow, every reaction dulled.

"I'm trying not to."

Even though it's not the same, Kyoya not able to react with quite the same snark and insight Tsubasa is used to, he is glad to talk to him at all. He has always thought more clearly with someone to bounce ideas off of. It doesn't really matter that the person he is talking to is half-delirious from the pain and the concussion. Kyoya will give as good as he is able to and that will be plenty even with all the handicaps.

Before Kyoya can respond with another cutting remark, the effect considerably dulled by his current lack of clarity, Tsubasa continues, "But I don't know where we are or where I'm going. I don't know how bad your condition is. I don't know how to get help. I don't," he swallows around the thick lump in his throat, even as his steps never falter, "There is no plan."

Kyoya is silent for a minute, breathing heavily and unevenly against Tsubasa's neck.

"Also, I broke the phone. I'm sorry."

For the first time, Kyoya makes a noise not of pain or discomfort. He huffs a laugh, weak but good, a hatchling flapping callow wings.

"You're stupid." Kyoya's voice is still slurred but a little more stable already, likely because he is stating his response like it's a fact. "I'd already be dead without you."

Tsubasa almost stumbles over his own feet. Kyoya's arms tighten around his shoulders at the sudden movement but he doesn't say anything more. Tsubasa privately smiles to himself, secure in the knowledge that Kyoya can't see his facial expression. This is as close as Kyoya will come to expressing his gratitude.

The forest around them is getting denser and the sky gradually darker. Kyoya keeps shifting in and out of consciousness, brief moments of clarity paired with quiet grunts and whimpers of pain. Tsubasa thought he would feel better with Kyoya awake and aware, but this is almost worse. It's getting colder, too, goosebumps breaking out on his bare arms. He can feel Kyoya shiver at his back whenever a cool breeze brushes past them.

Every point of contact between his skin and Kyoya's feels all the warmer for it.

Kyoya's face is turned into the curve of Tsubasa's shoulder, his breath hitting Tsubasa's collarbone. He can barely feel Kyoya's heartbeat thumping against his back, in the middle of his shoulder blades. The casual intimacy seems trivial compared to their situation. Tsubasa never thought he would be pressed this close to Kyoya and glad for it, even gladder to hear Kyoya speak.

"How long-" he starts to ask, raspy, and gets interrupted by a painful sounding coughing fit. When it subsides, he doesn't try to pose the question again, either having forgotten or realizing the answer already.

"How are you feeling?" Tsubasa asks him instead. He had been waiting for Kyoya to become aware enough to answer a few questions. "Can you tell me what hurts?"

"Everything," Kyoya deadpans. It's not helpful but it's... still good. Familiar. It soothes some of Tsubasa's worry. "My head," Kyoya eventually concedes.

Not helpful either, really. He could be referring to his concussion or potential internal bleeding or a thousand other things that could have gone wrong when he hit his head.

A beat of silence passes. Another. Leaves rustle with every gust of wind.

Kyoya's breath hitches.

"There is," he says, trailing off, and Tsubasa stops walking because he sees it, too.

It's one, maximum two hours until sundown. And they finally found a hiking path.

It hits Tsubasa suddenly that up until now he hadn't thought they would make it. At least, not today. He had thought they would have to camp in the forest, with no idea how far they were from civilization, and Tsubasa would have to hope he'd wake up the next morning and Kyoya would still be breathing next to him.

It's a daunting thought. He wishes he could un-think it.

"It's going to be alright," he says, mostly for his own benefit, but of course, Kyoya hears him.

"Stop doubting yourself," he says with a scoff. Like it's easy. Like it was never in question whether Tsubasa would get them to safety. Like Kyoya's life has not been shoved into his hands and Tsubasa had tried his damnedest to cradle it close, keep it whole and hale until he could hand it over to someone who actually knew what they were doing with a thing so easily broken.

He follows the well-trodden path, ignoring the aches in his arms and legs and feet, ignoring the way Kyoya slips back into unconsciousness, ignoring every hitched breath he can feel on his skin when Kyoya's injuries flood him with a new wave of pain. They are going to be alright. They are going to encounter someone who can help, who can call for aid, and they are going to be alright. Kyoya is going to be alright. Soon.

Soon.

Time stretches thin. The sky grows dark. Tsubasa walks and walks until his feet are numb, his arms are numb, his face is numb with the chill brought along by nightfall. It's a cloudy night, barely enough moonlight to make out the silhouettes of trees around them. Kyoya says something unintelligibly slurred into the nape of his neck but Tsubasa can tell he isn't aware right now, delirious and mumbling nonsense.

And then, finally, he hears voices and is blinded by the light of a flashlight shining in his face and his knees go weak with relief and exhaustion, but he refuses to drop Kyoya, so he walks towards the voices and the voices run towards them and when they meet in the middle, all he says is,

"Please. We need help.

I broke the phone."

--

Kyoya wakes slowly, awareness returning to him in splintered pieces. A dripping faucet trying to fill a sink in the span of minutes, hours, days.

There is the low murmur of voices fading in and out of the background, there is warmth in the touch of skin against his, lingering but gone all too quickly. It smells like antiseptic, then like Benkei's familiar, citrus-y shampoo, then like safe, trust, warm, then back to antiseptic.

When he opens his eyes, the impressions are faded and wrinkled in his mind like old photographs. It's impossible to tell if they happened weeks or mere minutes ago. He is carefully tucked underneath a warm blanket, an impressive amount of flowers on his bedside table. It's cloudy and gray outside, hard to tell what time of day it is. Tsubasa is slumped in the chair next to his bed, breathing deeply, dead asleep. He is in the hospital.

Of course. He expected this. Never really doubted that Tsubasa would do what needed to be done. Relying on him to get help had been easier to accept than from someone else because Kyoya trusts Tsubasa to be practical about something like this. To find the easiest solution, eliminate any complications, execute the plan swiftly and flawlessly. Be distantly professional about it.

Kyoya is surprised how little it surprises him to see Tsubasa here, after everything is said and done.

His memory of the fall and the subsequent trek through the wilderness is fragmented and foggy. He remembers seeing Tsubasa's face, right after, stiff with fear. He remembers Tsubasa apologizing, voice tight and defeated, but not what for exactly. Probably something stupid.

Tsubasa's face is relaxed in sleep, apparently not minding the uncomfortable looking position he is in. It doesn't completely hide the fatigue, the bags under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders. There are bandages around his hands, neatly wrapped around each finger. He is not wearing hospital clothes which means that whatever injuries he sustained from their adventure weren't too debilitating. That's good, at least.

When Kyoya's eyes snap up from the bandaged hands in Tsubasa's lap, they meet Tsubasa's gaze, groggy but waking quickly.

"You look like shit."

"Thanks," Tsubasa drawls, dry as a bone. Then he yawns, kind of ruining the effect. "So do you."

Kyoya smirks. "Yeah, but I wear it better."

Rolling eyes. Before Kyoya can ask, Tsubasa says, "You've been in here for three days. Doctor said you can have someone take you home when you wake up, but you're on strict bed rest." He throws him a stern look. "Your right arm and leg are broken, and a few ribs were sprained. You had a concussion, but we knew that."

They stare at each other for a moment. Tsubasa is pale and his hair is a mess. His eyes seem dulled by the obvious exhaustion. Kyoya can't look away.

"You were so lucky," Tsubasa says, voice quiet and low.

"Well," he wets his dry lips with the tip of his tongue, flexes his left hand a few times. "I wasn't alone. Wouldn't call that luck."

Tsubasa blinks. Doesn't break his gaze. "What then?"

He snorts quietly. "I seem to recall something with wings slowing the fall." He raises an eyebrow and doesn't elaborate.

Tsubasa gets it anyway. Red begins to delicately bloom on his cheeks. His eyes are wide, taken by surprise. He swallows and finally looks away, breaking the intense eye contact between them.

Kyoya watches him, the way he grows restless when there is nothing to distract from the climbing tension. It's very interesting. It's also so much better than the apology he had seen climbing up Tsubasa's throat once again. He doesn't want it. He doesn't need it. Kyoya would much rather stun Tsubasa into silence a hundred times before he would accept another apology from him.

"I'll get the doctor, then," Tsubasa suddenly says, standing up and already halfway through the door when neither of them says anything. He has grabbed a pair of crutches leaning against the wall that Kyoya hadn't noticed before. There is a slight limp in his walk. "And I'll call Benkei to pick you up."

He stops, waits, looks back at Kyoya. There is still a tint of red on his cheeks.

"I'm glad you're alright, Kyoya."

He doesn't wait around to hear Kyoya's answer.

It's all thanks to you, he thinks, staring at the closed door. His very own guardian angel.