Chapter Text
“This is so stupid,” Karube grumbles.
Not only stupid, it’s embarrassing. There’s a bruise on the line of his jaw and a split in his bottom lip. Koma is sitting in the backseat of the car, sporting a black eye that Karube only feels half bad about giving him. There’s bruises along both their knuckles and Karube is still feeling lucky about somehow not ending up with a stab wound.
“This is your fault, you know?” Niragi says, shooting him a pointed look. Karube’s head jerks his way, glowering from the passenger seat.
“What about him?” Karube argues, hooking a thumb towards Koma.
“If you idiots wanted to fight, maybe you should’ve done it in private and not where Hatter and Aguni could see you.”
“I’ve fought you before to no punishment.”
“Not like that.”
“You make it sound worse than it was.” Niragi fixes him with a look. “Koma was the one who elbowed Aguni.”
“You shoved me!” Koma cuts in.
“You started it!”
Niragi slams on the break. Karube crashes into the dash, a thrum of pain spreading up his thighs from where his knees collide with the glovebox. Koma topples halfway over the center console. Both of them cry out, curses and complaints spilling out of their mouths in tandem.
“Will you two fucking cut it out already?” Niragi snaps loudly.
Finally noticing Niragi’s frustration, they both shrink away, sinking back into their respective seats and going quiet. Koma scrubs the heel of his hand against his face, wincing when he bumps his bruise. Karube crosses his arm, slumping against the door, straining a hand over one of his sore knees.
Niragi breathes out a rough sigh and starts driving again.
The rest of the drive is silent. It’s just the rumble of the engine and Koma shuffling around in the backseat while humming some quiet some to himself. Karube half-recognises it, but keeps that to himself, just staring out the window but not really noticing anything. Niragi is tense and frowning all the while. It makes Karube want to apologise, if only to settle the situation, but he’s still annoyed at Koma so he says nothing.
Niragi slows the car, not even pulling into a parking spot, just cutting the engine in the middle of the road. It doesn’t really matter, there wasn’t a lot of other people driving around. Leaning on the steering wheel, Niragi glancing out the windows.
“Better hope we can find enough stuff to satisfy Hatter,” he says, more bored than anything.
Karube deflates slightly. Fucking restock duty. It’s usually a job for the non-militant residents. It’s a punishment for Karube and Koma, and Niragi is on babysitting detail - or protection duty, depending how it was looked at. With a sigh, he gets out of the car, knocking the passenger door shut. Koma clambers out, looking about as dispirited as Karube felt. For a moment, their eyes meet and Karube’s mouth thins in a line before he looks away. Niragi hops out, shoving the keys in his pocket and hiking his rifle to his shoulder.
“Well, let’s get this shit over with,” Karube sighs out.
It’s boring. They dip in and out of stores, ferrying whatever mostly decent food and medication they can find back out to the boot of the car. Niragi’s insistent on not helping at all, not in the searching or the moving, he just follows after them. He doesn’t even really talk to them, not even when either of them try to make conversation or when Koma makes jokes.
It’s crossed over from midday to nearly midafternoon. Koma’s shucked off his flannel, complaining about the heat, and dumped it in the car, down to his too-big tank top. The back of Karube’s neck is slick with sweat. He strains a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. His body’s stiff and tired.
The trio make their way into another shop. It’s moderately sized, enough so that shadows reach into the far corners. A couple of the small aisles by the front are knocked over, stock scattered across the floor. Karube sighs and wrings out his hands. From the looks of it, there’ll be a lot to gather up from here, which means he and Koma have a lot of work to do.
Koma strolls off, hopping up and over the counter to search around behind it. Karube heads down towards the back of the store, hoping to find stuff not effected by the elements like the stuff closer to the front. Niragi follows him half way down, keeping an eye on both him and Koma like he has for the last few stores.
At the back wall, Karube runs his fingers over a slightly dusty shelf. Scrunching his nose, he wipes the dust off on the side of his jeans, then sets about searching through the stuff on the shelves. It’s a monotonous job so inevitably, his mind slips. He thinks about Niragi, his snapping back in the car.
God, they’d really pissed him off this time. He’d asked for them to try and get along and what had they done? Fought bad enough that they’d ended up scuffed up and landed on restock duty. The bruise over his jaw stings at the thought.
With a sigh, he drops his head forward and rubs his palm over his face. He had to make it up to Niragi somehow. This whole situation is still confusing to him, he’s not even sure where to start. He’s doubtful that Niragi would accept an apology, and he doesn’t know that he could force himself to say one. Was he really that sorry to have fought Koma or did he just want Niragi to stop being annoyed with him?
To his left, there’s a sound, like the shuffle of someone’s footsteps suddenly quickening.
It happens in a flurry. Karube isn’t even sure exactly what’s happened. It’s too quick. He just feels a shove and staggers into the shelf. His head collides with it hard enough to make his ears ring. Through the dull knell, he can partially make out the sounds of a scuffle; the rifle goes off, Niragi cries out - then, a thud, and now Niragi’s on the ground.
Koma races down and flies into action towards the attacker, but Karube doesn’t look up to see what he’s doing. He’s just staring at Niragi, dizzy, blood dripping down his forehead and into his eye.
There’s so much blood.
God, it’s everywhere.
Karube stumbles stiffly towards him, his knees collide painfully with the ground when he drops down beside him and shoves his rifle out of the way. His hands flit. He almost doesn’t want to touch him, in case he hurts him worse. Niragi’s passed out, lying still, his chest rising and falling too slowly for comfort.
Karube’s eyes drag quickly over his injuries. There’s blood dripping from his nose - fuck, had the guy head butted him? His shirt is shredded up the front, Karube carefully moves the fabric aside to find a deep slash cut up his chest, steadily bleeding. It doesn’t look good.
“Niragi,” Karube says, hands reaching for his face, patting his clammy cheek to try and wake him.
Niragi groans quietly, dark eyes opening to slivers. He looks bleary, dizzy, like he can’t quite focus. Karube’s hands shift, fingers carefully sliding around to the back of Niragi’s head. His fingertips feel over a sizeable bump where he must’ve hit his head before he dropped. Niragi tries to sit up, then grunts loudly in pain and slumps back, grasping low at his stomach. Blood pools heavily against a set of two smaller slashes in his shirt.
“Shit, let me see,” Karube says, pawing to push Niragi’s hand away from whatever the problem was.
His blood goes cold.
“Koma! - fuck - Koma, he’s been stabbed! Gimme a fucking hand here!” Karube shouts over his shoulder. Niragi passes out again, going limp, and Karube curses under his breath. His hands flit over Niragi’s neck and face. He’s starting to go pale.
Koma quickly appears on the other side of Niragi, crouching. His hands are drenched in blood, his knife is dripping with it too. There’s blood spattered across his clothes and face. He’s breathing roughly through his open mouth, dark eyes blown wide. His chest heaves. Panic creases his expression. His free hand flexes, like he wants to reach out but is holding himself back.
Karube shoves his outer shirt off, crumpling it and pressing it against Niragi’s stab wounds.
“Help me get him up, we gotta get back now,” Karube orders sharply. Koma’s gaze jumps up to meet his. He’s shaking. “Koma! Focus, man! Get his legs, I’ll get his arms. We gotta move!”
It spurs Koma into motion. Karube sweeps Niragi up, his head slumps back limply against Karube’s shoulder. Koma shuffles down and hauls Niragi’s legs clumsily into his arms. With a nod from Karube, they both stand, lifting Niragi with them.
They walk quickly back out of the store and to the car. Propping Niragi against his chest with one arm, Karube fumbles a hand behind him to open the backseat door. It’s a struggle getting Niragi into the car. He groans in pain whenever they accidentally jostle him and apologies spill - suddenly effortlessly - from Karube’s mouth.
Koma scrambles around into the car and scoops Niragi’s upper body into his lap. His hand grabs Karube’s discarded shirt, pressing it hard to the wounds to try and stem the bleeding. Karube hops into the driver’s seat and grapples at the keyhole. He twists, panicked, trying to find the keys. Reaching back, he slaps at Koma’s arm, frantic.
“Keys. In his pocket.”
Koma grapples for them, yanking the keys out and shoving them into Karube’s waiting hands. Karube jams the key into the ignition and slams on the accelerator, fishtailing the bumper as he spins the car back around towards the Beach.
Over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, Karube can hear Koma whispering to Niragi - part prayer, part begging, part telling Niragi he was going to be okay. His eyes glance to the rear view mirror, to Koma’s hand covered in blood and gripping his blood soaked shirt to Niragi’s gut. Karube’s hands tense, white knuckled, around the steering wheel and he speeds up. He tries not to think about the blood on his shirt. Niragi’s blood on his shirt.
He feels like throwing up.
It’s a miracle he doesn’t crash into anything. He throws the car into a parking spot and is hopping out mere seconds after cutting the engine. Racing around to the backseat, he yanks to the door open. Koma’s still got his hand pressing over the wounds. There’s the dampness of tears in his eyes when he looks up, and his mouth trembles. Karube’s jaw tightens. He leans in to wrap a hand around Niragi’s limp wrist.
“Help me get him on my back,” he says. Koma nods shakily.
He’s heavy and limp. Karube can feel blood weeping hotly against his back. That’s two of his shirts ruined tonight, he thinks numbly. He has to pitch forward slightly to keep Niragi from slipping off. Koma flits around him, worried, bloody shirt still clenched in his hand.
Hiking Niragi higher, Karube hurries towards the Beach. He has to get to Ann. As much of a dick that Niragi could be, Ann wouldn’t turn them away … right? He doesn’t want to think about it. Koma scampers along slightly ahead of him, effectively making a path through residents standing around. They almost barrel right into Aguni in their rushing.
“What the hell happened?” Aguni asks, forced to match their pace when Karube doesn’t slow down or even miss a step.
“We got jumped. He’s been stabbed.” Karube’s tries to keep his voice steady, huffing. Niragi’s breath rattles passed his ear, accompanied by a quiet pained keen. Karube walks faster while still trying to not jostle Niragi around too much, leaving Aguni to his stilled shock.
Koma hurries ahead again, practically tripping through Ann’s ‘office’ door. Kuina and Ann jolt in surprise. Any other day, Karube might’ve used this as a chance to tease Kuina. But not today.
“What the -” Ann’s voice cuts off when Karube stumbles in after Koma. He doesn’t want to imagine how bad they look - all three covered in various amounts of blood, Niragi slumped loosely against Karube’s back.
“Please help,” Karube chokes out. He sounds desperate even to himself. Ann exhales a rough sigh, her expression pinches, then she ushers Karube further into the room.
“Get him over here, lay him down,” she orders. Kuina hurries to help her clean off the desk. Koma takes Niragi’s arm, carefully guiding him off Karube’s back. Neither move far from the table and Ann fixes them with a look. “I can’t work with you two hovering over me.”
Gritting his teeth, Karube grabs Koma by the elbow, pulling him away as Ann starts to remove what remains of Niragi’s shirt. His eyes focus in as Ann looks over Niragi’s injuries. The slash up his chest and the pair of stab wounds are still bleeding heavily. There’s a cut over the palm of his hand that Karube hadn’t noticed earlier through all the blood. He feels sick and dizzy and he can feel his shirt sticking slick and wet to his back.
At his side, Kuina guides Koma towards a sink on the other side of the room to clean himself up; it’s clear that she wouldn’t be able to convince him to leave and shower, but he can at least wash the blood off his hands and face. Coming back to Karube, she sets a hand on his arm, shaking him slightly to get his attention.
“You should sit down. Your head’s bleeding,” she says gently.
Karube lets her lead him to a seat, but his gaze keeps flickering towards Niragi. He hasn’t moved. He’s pale. His breathing’s shallow, his chest barely moving. With how Ann’s prodding at the stab wounds - trying to figure out if there’s anything badly nicked inside - Karube expects anyone else would be screaming, Niragi barely groans.
Kuina’s hand catches Karube’s jaw, tilting his head slightly so she could look at the wound on his forehead.
“He’ll be okay, right?” Karube asks quietly, barely above a whisper. His hands curl into fists against his thighs. He wants to beg, tell her to lie to him if she has to. Kuina dabs at the cut with a damp tissue. She chews her bottom lip contemplatively.
“Ann’s good at this stuff, just leave it to her,” Kuina answers, clearly attempting to sound confident. Karube just sighs.
Minutes pass. Karube can’t take it. He gets up, starts pacing along the wall, gaze flickering towards Niragi every so often. Ann’s working on stitching him up, Kuina’s joined her at the table. Koma had tried insisting on helping, but his hands shook so badly that Kuina lead him away and took over. There’s blood covering both their hands now. Kuina has to keep wiping blood off Niragi’s skin as Ann stitches, precise and as quick as she can manage.
He’s so pale. He’s lost too much blood. Had they not been fast enough getting him here? Karube’s hands flex at his sides. God, this is his fucking fault, isn’t it? If he’d been paying attention, Niragi wouldn’t have had to jump in.
He turns, starting towards the door. Koma reaches out and catches his arm. For once, Karube doesn’t just shake him off, even though there’s still blood under his fingernails and he can feel how Koma tremors.
“Where are you going?” He asks, his tone thin and confused. He looks as exhausted as he sounds. There’s a speck of blood just below his jaw that he’d missed while cleaning himself up. Karube resists the urge to wipe it away for him, if only because the sight of more blood is making him feel sicker and to touch it might actually cause him to throw up.
“His gun. We left it back at the store. He’ll be pissed when he wakes up.” Karube’s voice is thick, his jaw tight.
“Karube -”
“I’ll be quick.”
Taking another step and giving a slight pull on his arm, Koma slowly lets him go but it’s clear he doesn’t want Karube to leave. There’s a guilty feeling that twangs in his chest from the look on his face, the way he stares - worried, confused, tired - up at Karube. Casting one last long glance at Niragi, he turns and leaves out the door, closing it quietly behind him.
He drives in silence, his arms tense, his jaw tight. The car smells like blood, it’s coppery and sticks in his nose. He winds the window all the way down; the breeze chills him and stings against his face, but it’s better than being surrounded by the metallic scent. Someone’s going to have to clean it. If it can even be cleaned. The blood is probably stained into the fabric of the seats by now. Someone should just the stuff out of the boot and roll the car into the nearest body of water for all he cared.
Slowing the car to a stop in the street, he exhales roughly, looking at the building. God, it had looked so inconspicuous. Just some bring building then, but now it made Karube’s stomach twist in knots. He hops out of the car, taking a deep breath of the clean air as he shoves the car keys in his pocket.
Stepping around the car, he makes a point not to look at the trail of half-dried blood on the ground. He’s careful to step over it and not in it as he walks into the store and down the main aisle. It’s darker now and Karube’s tense, focused for the sound of anything.
Stopping at the back of the store, he stands by the puddle of blood on the ground. It looks black in the dimness. He looks away with a sharp inhale, hands flexing at his sides. His gaze draws from the blood puddle to the body a few feet away.
Koma had killed him. From the looks of it, he’d really done a number on him. Karube can just barely make out the lacerations cover his body, and the way his neck is slashed fully open across the front, pitching his head back at an awkward angle. The puddle of blood surrounding him is larger than the one at Karube’s feet. It pools around the corpse, seeping across the ground and beneath the shelves.
Karube is glad he’s dead. He didn’t know what he’d do if they guy had still been alive when he’d arrived. Maybe he would’ve killed him himself. He’d been trying to not kill anyone if he could help it - for Arisu’s sake, the guy was too kind hearted - but this guy would’ve been a worthy exception.
He leans up against the shelves. They dig uncomfortably into his back but he doesn’t care. He roughs a hand over his face, wincing when he bumps up against the cut. Slumping, he crouches, curling in on himself. The sound of Niragi crying out, the quiet pained groans, his shallow breaths; it all rings through Karube’s head. Tears burn behind his closed eyes. He shudders out a breath.
When he’d considered losing Niragi, he imagined it in one of these fucking games. Not from getting stabbed in some shitty convenience store.
Wiping his eyes, he sniffs quietly, huffs out an exhale, and grabs Niragi’s rifle from the ground with a shaky hand.
He’s been gone long enough. He needs to get back.
Niragi - and Koma - are waiting for him.
Karube leaves. Koma just stares after him as he goes. The door shuts quietly and, left to himself, Koma deflates. He’s sat up on a desk and hunches over, letting out a long trembling breath, straining his hands over his thighs. Ann and Kuina are talking quietly to each other, but Koma’s not listening to them.
He lifts his head and looks at Niragi. Kuina is carefully wrapping his hand in a bandage, covering the cut across his palm. Koma is quietly thankful. He didn’t have to be here long to know that Niragi wasn’t the most popular person. Ann could have easily denied them. If she had … he didn’t know what they would’ve done. He doesn’t know what he would have done.
His head drops, hanging, blond waves falling in his face. There’s blood drying in the strands, sticking some of them together into stringy clumps. It’ll suck to try and wash it out later.
“Koma,” Ann’s voice cuts in through his thoughts. Koma’s head shoots up fast enough to almost hurt, eyes wide as if expecting the worst. She waves him over. “I need you to help me sit him up so I can bandage him.”
Koma nods quickly, scrambling off the desk to stand on the opposite side of the desk from Ann. Niragi looks even worse close up and Koma’s hands shake slightly as he runs his fingertips over Niragi’s forearm.
“Ready?” Ann asks.
“Mhm.”
Carefully, they scoops their arms underneath Niragi’s upper back and let his limp body lean against Koma. Ann makes quick work of wrapping a bandage around his gut, covering up the gauze-covered pair of stab wounds. When she was done with that, she loops another bandage around and over the stitched-up slash over Niragi’s chest. As she works, Kuina wipes Niragi’s blood off the table, then helps Koma lay him back down once he’s fully bandaged.
Koma’s gaze focused down on him. He’s breathing steadily at least, but he’s still pale.
“Is he going to be alright?” Koma asks quietly. Ann sighs.
“I’m a forensic scientist, not a medical doctor. I did what I could,” Ann explains. She casts a glance at Niragi. “He’s lost a lot of blood, he’ll need rest.”
“But he’ll be okay?”
“We’ll have to wait for him to wake up.”
When Karube comes back after dropping the rifle off in Niragi’s room, Ann and Kuina are sequestered off by the sink, standing shoulder to shoulder and washing blood off their hands. He’s got to find some way to thank them, but he’s not even sure where to start. It’s not the most normal situation that they’re in.
Koma is sitting at Niragi’s side, his gaze intently focused on Niragi’s sleeping face. Like he could disappear if Koma looked away for even a second. Take a breath, Karube steels himself, pulling a chair up to sit next to Koma. He reaches a hand out to swipe a spot of blood away off Niragi’s cheek.
“How is he?” He asks quietly. Koma’s lips tremble.
“He hasn’t woken up … That’s bad, isn’t it?” He replies, just as quiet. Karube swallows.
“He’ll wake up. Niragi’s tough. It’s gonna take more than this to take him out,” Karube answers, feigning confidence. Koma just nods shortly, leaning his arms on the desk, his hand curling over Niragi’s to tuck his fingers against his palm. Karube falls quiet again too. He reaches a hand out to brush through Niragi’s dark hair, pushing it back from his face. There’s a slight bruise over his nose, but someone’s cleaned up the nosebleed.
Minutes tick by quietly. With everything cleaned up, Ann and Kuina move to leave. Karube apologises and thanks them, then apologises again. Ann just nods. Kuina squeezes his shoulder as she passes, a tight smile on her lips.
Now it was just Karube and Koma, quietly watching over Niragi.
Minutes turn into an hour, Koma leans against Karube’s side, his cheek mushing against his bicep. For a moment, he flinches when he bumps his bruised eye, but he soon relaxes. His hands are still up on the table, one still holding Niragi’s.
There’s small superficial cuts covering Koma’s hands that Karube eyes. They’re newer than the bruises from fighting Karube. Had they happened when he fought that guy back at the store? Frowning, Karube reaching out to take his free one, looking closer at the cuts. Koma shifts slightly to look up at him.
“Do they hurt?” Karube asks, thumbing carefully over his bruised, nicked fingers. Koma shrugs.
“Not that bad,” he mumbles. “Just stings a little. Used to cut my hands a lot while I was learning to cook, so I’m used to it.”
Karube hums quietly, understanding. Looking over his hand, he find small white scars here and there. Koma’s hand flips, intertwining with Karube’s, then dropping their joint hands on his thigh as he relaxes against Karube’s bicep again.
In his periphery, Karube can see the way his eyelashes flutter, seemingly fighting off sleep. Karube half wants to tell him to leave and go get some sleep, but he knows that Koma won’t leave Niragi’s side. Karube’s understands it, he’s tired too, but he won’t leave again until he sees Niragi awake. He rumbles a sigh, shifting slightly, letting Koma get more comfortable against his arm.
Another few minutes and his own blinks slow. He yawns widely, his jaw popping. There’s a twitch across Niragi’s expression. Karube doesn’t notice, he’s tired, his eyes keep drifting shut.
Another twitch, and Niragi’s eyes starting to flutter open.
The room is painfully bright. Niragi squints against the light. It takes a moment and few long blinks for his vision to clear. He glances around slowly, it takes him a second to realise where he is. Ann’s office, back at the Beach. How had he gotten here?
Every inch of him aches. There’s a low hum of pain bleeding from where the back of his head is leaning on the hard table. His hand stings, and his upper chest. The worst is in his stomach. He’s been gut punched before, but this is about a hundred times worse. Even the slight shift as he breathes hurts.
He shuts his eyes again for a second, trying to remember. The store, that guy moving to attack Karube, then … pain. Fuck. He’d been stabbed, hadn’t he? That explains the pain. He groans quietly, shifting.
Turning his head, his gaze lands on Karube and Koma. His expression softens.
Koma is leaning heavily against Karube’s side, quietly snoring. Seemingly half-asleep, Karube’s head is tilted slightly towards Koma’s, his temple almost resting atop Koma’s curls. For once, they seem peaceful, and they’re not snapping at each other’s throats.
Niragi turns his hand, squeezing Koma’s. He barely reacts more than softly squeezing back.
Blinking slowly, Karube’s eyes flit towards Niragi, finally meeting his gaze. He jolts slightly, realising Niragi’s finally awake.
“Niragi,” he breaths, relieved, and jostles Koma. He reaches out for Niragi, one hand flitting clumsily over his shoulder, up his neck to his cheek. Niragi leans into his warm palm. Jolting forward, Koma grips Niragi’s hand tightly between both of his own.
Niragi’s gaze flickers between them.
“So this is what it takes for you two to get along? Me getting stabbed?” He mumbles out weakly, cackling a laugh that quickly turns into a pained groan, his bandaged hand flying to his stomach, teeth clenching. Koma and Karube quickly tense, worry crossing their expressions.
“Be careful. Ann said you need rest,” Koma says, frowning. Karube nods in agreement. “You lost a lot of blood.”
Niragi’s brow quirks, surprised.
“Ann?”
“She stitched you up. We kinda owe her one,” Karube says, brushing his hand through Niragi’s hair. Niragi squeezes Koma’s hand, then starts to shift. Karube and Koma flit to try and stop him, Karube cutting in to speak as he rests a hand on Niragi’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t move, you might pop your stitches.”
“There’s no way I can sleep here. Help me up,” Niragi replies. Koma glances Karube’s way, and Karube frowns, conflicted. Niragi fixes them both with a look. “You’re trying to tell me with two of you, you can’t get me back to my room?”
“We don’t wanna hurt you,” Koma confesses quietly.
Karube’s expression twitches as he thinks. He can’t imagine the table is necessarily comfortable, and there’s a kind of chill in the room. Niragi would sleep better in his own room. Ann probably doesn’t want them still in here by the time she came back in the morning. She’d helped tonight, but he doesn’t presume to think that she at all likes Niragi. He sighs.
“Let’s just try sitting up first?” He says finally. With time being as weird as it was in this world, it seemed to affect healing as well. If Niragi can manage sitting up without too much pain, maybe Karube and Koma can help him back to his room without it being too bad.
Stepping around to the other side of the table, he then nods Koma to move up. He steadies one hand under Niragi’s back, letting Niragi take his other hand. Koma shuffles, frowning slightly, apprehensive.
“Just … go slow, okay?” Karube says, a tinge of worry still in his voice. Niragi chuckles lightly.
“Geez, you two need to relax,” he says, starting to sit up.
It’s slow moving and he grimaces, making Karube and Koma tense. Koma’s hands hover in case Niragi needs him. Finally sat up, Niragi lets out a slow breath, slightly hunching forward and dropping his hands in his lap. Karube runs a soothing hand down Niragi’s cool spine. He sits quietly for a long beat, carefully tracing his fingers over the bandage over his stomach. His face twitches and pinches in pain. Karube frowns, glancing over Niragi at Koma, who frowns back.
“Niragi, maybe you should lie back d-” Karube starts gently, hand settling on the wing of his shoulder blade.
Niragi ignores him and turns to swing his legs off the table, clapping a hand against Karube’s chest. Koma scurries around to the other side of the table, panic evident in his eyes, his hands still hovering in the air like he’s readying himself to catch Niragi.
Glancing between the two, Niragi reaches out to pull them in by their elbows and steady his hands on their shoulders.
“Come on, help me up. Let’s get out of here,” he puffs. Clearly, he’s not going to be convinced to just lie back down.
Karube heaves out an exhale. He could manhandle Niragi back down, it wouldn’t be that hard, but he doesn’t want to risk hurting him. Besides that, Niragi’s stubborn. He’d sooner snap into an argument than just listen to Karube. So, instead of trying to fight with him, Karube just steps in closer to Niragi’s side instead, hunching slightly to minimise the slight difference in their heights.
Niragi stands and heaves an arm over Karube’s shoulders, he leans heavy on him, grimacing tightly. Karube wraps an arm around his waist, hand settling on his lesser injured side. Karube nods slightly at Koma, a silent urging. Koma pouts, but moves anyway, letting Niragi wrap an arm over his shoulders too.
“We could just -” Koma starts, an anxious tilt to his tone.
“Let’s go,” Niragi cuts in.
Karube almost laughs, it comes out in a thin rumble up his throat as he shakes his head. Stabbed twice but Niragi still had enough energy to have an attitude and quash anything that went against what he wanted to do.
It’s slow going. They walk at Niragi’s pace, careful to move in time with him as to not jostle him too much. Karube’s hand is wrapped around the wrist of Niragi’s arm that is thrown over his shoulders, he thumbs over the inner side. Koma distractedly looks between his feet and Niragi’s face, his own expression pinching with every small twitch of pain from Niragi.
They’re lucky that the elevators work and they’re not stuck trying to walk up stairs, which Karube can only assume would’ve gone horribly. It also makes for a good chance to force Niragi to slow down and take a breather. The elevator rumbles lowly as it rises and Niragi leans against Karube, his head lolling slightly. Karube leans his temple against Niragi’s hair.
“Lucky you’ve got enough visas to take a few days off, huh?” Karube muses with a small smile.
Niragi hums quietly, seemingly more to acknowledge he’d heard Karube say something as opposed to actually answer. Karube’s jaw tightens slightly; he pushes down the wave of worry through his chest, and the wondering if he should’ve just forced Niragi to stay in Ann’s office.
The elevator dings and they make their way out, moving slowly down the hallway. Niragi inches along step by step, his feet dragging. There’s a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, his dark eyes heavy-lidded. Koma looks to Karube, his expression worried. Karube swallows thickly. He has to be the one to comfort and console here; Niragi’s slowing, exhausted, and Koma’s antsy with anxiety.
“We’re almost there. Just a little further, okay? Then you can rest,” Karube encourages, taking on more of Niragi’s weight.
Meeting Koma’s gaze, Karube nods down the hallway towards Niragi’s room. Koma seems to understand and lets Karube take Niragi fully, then hurries the last few strides down the hall to push Niragi’s door open. Karube runs a soothing hand over Niragi’s side, guiding him slowly along and quietly coaxing him on.
Koma runs his fingertips down Niragi’s arm as they step over the threshold passed him. He closes the door, then darts carefully around them to pull the blankets down on Niragi’s bed. Karube sits him on the mattress. Crouching down by the bed to look at him, Karube brushing his dark hair back from his sweaty face. Niragi’s hand presses over the stab wounds.
“You okay? How are you feeling?” Karube asks, setting his hands on Niragi’s knees.
“Fucking hurts,” Niragi complains, voice thready.
Karube nods shortly, he can’t even manage a snarky reply; he’s sure Niragi wouldn’t appreciate it right now anyway. He works on getting Niragi’s shoes off, then stands to help him lie down before pulling the covers up over him. Niragi’s hand brushes his for a moment, Karube flips his to squeeze it comfortingly. With a quiet sigh, he drops into a chair beside the bed, stretching his legs out.
“I’ll see about finding you some pain killers tomorrow,” Karube says. There had to be something around, even the weak stuff would be better than nothing.
On the other side of the bed, Koma sits down on the ground, lying his arms on the mattress and then his chin atop them. His gaze stays on Niragi, his eyes round and still worried. Niragi meets his fixed stare for a moment, then smiles lightly and reaches out a hand to pat over his curly hair. Koma leans into his palm for a second, then reaches up to take his hand, twining their fingers. He drops a short kiss to Niragi’s knuckles, then dropping his cheek atop of it.
Breathing out a quiet sigh, Niragi’s eyes flutter shut and he quickly falls asleep.
It’s only when Niragi’s finally sleeping that Karube and Koma relax, both slumping loosely in their respective spots. Koma presses his face into his arm, rattling out a deep exhale. They both need showers, still wearing their bloody clothes. Karube supposes it can wait. They’re both too tired anyway.
He’s about to tell Koma to get some sleep, but when he looks at him, he sees that Koma’s already drifted off. Shaking his head, he chuckles lightly. Sleeping like that, he’s going to wake up feeling like crap. Getting up quietly from the chair, Karube walks around the bed to the closet. Niragi had never removed the hotel’s complimentary extra blanket from it. Pulling the blanket out, he quietly unfurls it, giving it a slight shake to remove any dust before lying it over Koma. He cards a hand softly through Koma’s blond waves, freezing slightly when the younger shifts in his sleep.
Moving back around the bed, he adjusts Niragi’s covers and brushes his hair from his face. Niragi only ever looked so peaceful when he was sleeping. He was pretty, with his features softened, some colour finally coming back to his skin. For a moment, Karube traces his fingertips over Niragi’s warm cheek.
“If some part of you is listening right now…” Karube says quietly, feeling stupid even as he starts speaking, “then don’t ever do something like that again. I can’t -”
He cuts himself off, swallowing thickly and licking over his teeth. He can’t say it, even when neither of them are awake to hear it and the words would just hang in the silence. Shaking it off, he huffs out a quiet frustrated noise and pulls his hand away from Niragi’s face. Stressed exhaustion wrestles him towards resting, and he’s quickly losing the battle. He slumps back into his seat and props his feet out onto the corner of the mattress, getting comfortable as tire overtakes him.