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When Aikawa hears the shrill ring from his landline he’s in the middle of his post-gorging-on-stolen-food nap and the sound makes for an unwelcome awakening. He stumbles to the phone and the number on the screen fully wakes him up. Risu never calls these days. He quickly picks up and tries to ignore how much he’s missed talking to Risu. "Risu! Hey man, what's up?"
Risu’s voice crackles over the speaker immediately. "Aikawa, I need you to come over. I got hurt… but don't worry! I'm okay, it's not too bad!" Aikawa hears a sharp breath over the receiver that says otherwise. "Just… please come over when you can. I need a bit of help with some of these…"
"On my way, get out all the supplies I'll need." He clicks the landline back into place and, without waiting for a response, heads out the door. Risu has asked him for help before, but never immediately or without stubbornness. Normally he tries and fails to patch himself up and Aikawa has to barge in and fix things, or he hints at him by trying to play it off and telling Aikawa he totally doesn’t need to help this time. Plus, his call interrupted the silent treatment he’s been giving Aikawa, and Risu is usually too stubborn to reach out first when he gets like this.
When Aikawa opens the door he’s hit with the smell of iron over the usual smell of various takeout boxes and paper plates scattered around the dingy apartment. He sees Risu has already stripped down to his boxers and sports bra and is scrambling to gather the supplies from the mess. Aikawa gives him a quick once over before Risu notices he’s there. Some bruises on his arms, a few scrapes here and there, a lot of scratches from nails, but most worrying is the gash over his heart, visible through the slash in his bra. Not deep enough to be too dangerous–whoever did it wasn’t smart enough to stab rather than slash–but definitely enough to need stitches and to be treated gently for a bit.
Aikawa didn’t come prepared for a wound like that. He would have brought some smoke, at least.
“Oh! Hey, Aikawa! You could’ve said you were here,” Risu says. “I just finished grabbing everything.”
“Alright, gimme a sec,” Aikawa says. He takes off his mask and pulls his gloves off his fingers, then rolls his sleeves up past his elbows. He kneels on the scratchy cream carpet in front of the bed, sitting next to the cherrywood nightstand where the supplies are set, and gestures for Risu to sit on the bed in front of him. Risu sits and takes a swig of the bottle of vodka he was grabbing as Aikawa walked in and sets it with the rest of the supplies. Not the best sign if that’s all he has for disinfecting, but he can work with it.
“I forgot to get rubbing alcohol,” Risu says. He rubs his neck sheepishly; it’s cute how he does that.
Aikawa swats his temple with the heel of his hand. “Dipshit. Should’a told me that over the phone, I would’ve brought some. Some smoke too, while I was at it.”
He grabs the damp rag on the nightstand and swiftly skims over Risu’s skin to wipe off the surface grime and truly see what he’s working with. There was a lot more blood and dirt than there were wounds, which is a good sign, and one Aikawa is grateful for. At least now most of his worries are about the bleeding gash on his chest, which, admittedly, is far worse than Aikawa is used to treating.
"What even happened? This is bad, man. Way worse than the times you've gotten hurt after school." He dips a cotton ball in vodka and reaches for an arm, starting at the shoulder. Risu winces slightly at the first dab to a scrape, but adjusts quickly.
"Well… you know I shouldn’t be telling you this but…" Risu looks around out of habit before continuing, "it was during a black powder sale. I think one of the others was trying to get this to happen. Someone told the guy I had way more than I had, and he…didn't react well to finding out I only had a couple small baggies. I think he was planning on pawning off whatever he got from me–sounded like he might’ve already sold it and not getting it put him in deep shit."
“Lift your arm so I can get underneath,” Aikawa says before responding to the conversation. "And aimed for the heart? 'S not like killing you would magically make you have more."
"Heh, yeah, I don't get the logic either. He wasn't too bad once I disarmed him though. Wasn't very skilled, honestly. Plus, sending him in upped my paycheck"
“Down, keep it turned.” Risu does so. “He wouldn’t have lasted long like that, anyway. Do you even know what the cross-eyes need all the bodies for? Turn.” Risu listens and Aikawa dabs the cotton ball on the marks on the outside of his arm. “Anyway, seems he didn't go down without a fight. You're gonna have to keep an eye on those scratches, devil knows what was under that guy's nails. If his were anything like yours, you’re in for some pretty bad infections."
Risu laughs and retorts in mock offense, “Oh fuck off! Not all of us wear gloves 24/7, jackass.” With one of Risu’s arms finished, Aikawa grabs at the other one. At this point, he doesn’t have to say anything for Risu to move as needed. "But… yeah… he got pretty desperate. I feel kind of bad, but there wasn't anything I could do."
"You were defending yourself, 's not your fault. Sending him in was kinda fucked, though." Aikawa wonders if Risu ever feels guilty about what he does for the cross-eyes. Aikawa sure as hell does, and it’s not even him.
With the small scrapes and scratches disinfected, Aikawa’s attention is finally turned to the worst wound Risu had acquired. He opens the suture kit on the nightstand, analyzing what he’s working with. Forceps, scissors, scalpel, needle holder, needles, nylon thread; no alcohol so he guesses the booze he’s been using will have to work, the rest is fine though. A curved needle and nylon thread are especially nice, the forceps are good to have too. Aikawa idly muses about how Risu has a suture kit and no rubbing alcohol. “This won’t be the most sterile, so keep an eye on it.” Aikawa threads the needle efficiently and soaks it all in alcohol.
"How do you know how to give stitches?" Risu asks. "You normally just buy or steal smoke…"
Aikawa shrugs. He really doesn't know, probably something to do with all the crap he doesn't want to think about; though which part, he's not sure.
“Would’ve brought some if I knew you needed stitches.” Aikawa's dodging the question and he knows it. "Do you want me to cut this off or work around it?" He pulls at a strap of the mangled bra.
Risu thinks for a second before shrugging. "It’s ruined anyway, just cut it off. I probably have another one somewhere or other."
Aikawa nods, pulls out his pocket knife and cuts through the fabric, careful to keep the blade from Risu's skin. He pulls what's left of the bra down Risu's arms, making sure to keep from jostling him too much.
“You can have mine if you want, or I can get you one or something,” Aikawa says. He then grabs a paper towel and soaks it in what's left of the vodka before moving to sit higher on his knees to get better access to the wound. He's glad he only closed the knife, since he finds there's a fair bit of dirt in the wound that needs to be picked out.
He places his left hand on Risu's right shoulder and squeezes, hoping to distract him from any discomfort this will cause. He flicks the blade back out and brings the tip of the knife up to pick out the debris, trying not to dig into the sensitive flesh, and once done refocuses on disinfecting it. He brings the damp towel up to Risu's chest and disinfects from the bottom of the wound to the top, making sure to be thorough.
He's tempted to rest his head against the other side of Risu’s chest. Risu’s skin is always slightly cooler than his own and he wants to bask in it. Feel relief from the heat trapped in his own skin, running warm as he always does. He tries to shake the desire from his mind knowing it can never happen. That Risu deserves better. Someone who is actually a person and not a husk, not a vessel, and definitely not a liar. He can’t help it, not when Risu won’t just push him away. When he still offers him friendship, and partnership, and a shoulder to lean on. Still calls him to patch him up.
"Can I… can I kiss you?" Aikawa asks. The question didn’t even go through his brain before it came out from between his lips, but he doesn’t fully regret it. He knows neither him nor Risu are oblivious, but he also knows he hasn’t said anything for a reason. Nothing good can come from this, but he can’t help but feel relieved to have finally asked.
Risu's breath catches slightly. "Please.."
Aikawa sets the cloth down and leans further in. He's never done this before, not as himself at least. He's seen him do it plenty of times in his dreams, but thinking of the blood stained endings makes him feel sick. He pushes that thought from his mind and presses his lips to Risu's. It's a little weird, but soft and pleasant. Risu’s chapped lips against his own feels so different from what he was expecting. He reaches up to cup Risu's cheek, both for better support and out of an attempt to be chivalrous, and kisses him again, trying to get a hang of the motion.
After a few moments, he pulls back, leaving his hand barely brushing Risu's cheek. Risu snickers quietly. "You're not very good at that. I thought you’d be better."
Aikawa smiles sheepishly. "I know," he says, "I've never had anyone I've really wanted to kiss."
"Really?" Risu raises an eyebrow. "I thought I've seen you leave bars with girls in the past… I never caught your face though so maybe I'm mistaken." Risu has a weird look in his eyes.
Aikawa's heart stops. Risu knows he's caught him, even if he doesn't know in what. He's caught in a lie that's actually the truth and has no way to explain himself that Risu will believe. There's no excuse he can give to dig himself out of this one other than a truth he isn't even willing to fully tell himself.
Risu barks out a bitter laugh. "What, no headache this time? I'm not stupid, you know."
God, he wishes he had a headache, as terrible of an omen as that always is. Anything to avoid this awful tension. He can't stand to leave though, nor lie more than necessary. A moment passes while the gears turn in Aikawa's head. Risu's expression softens, then dims, and he drops his head fully into Aikawa's hand with a sigh.
"Aikawa… why?" Risu says, looking down at Aikawa. "There's so much you're not telling me. Why… can't we just be normal? How am I supposed to feel about this when I don't know anything about you… and what you do tell me doesn't always add up."
His eyebrows furrow for a second. He won't look Risu in the face."You.. know me. Well enough, at least. The important shit. My character, and all that junk. I want…" Aikawa's mouth is dry. His next words come out scratchy and raw. "I want to tell you, but I… I can't."
He swallows. His guard goes up again and all vulnerability leaves his face. "Please leave the cross eyes."
It's Risu's turn to avert his gaze. The plea hangs heavy in the air. A tense moment passes before Aikawa ducks his head and goes back to busying his hands with Risu's collarbone. He grabs the needle he prepared, and takes his glove off the table and gives it to Risu to bite down on.
"This is going to hurt. I'm sorry." He's apologizing for so much more. He drives the needle gently through the flesh above Risu's pectoral. Risu grits his teeth hard around the glove; a sharp intake of breath giving way into a pained keening noise as Aikawa sews his chest closed.
Each stab of the needle seems to hurt worse, and by the time Aikawa ties the end, Risu's teeth had worn through the fabric between them. Aikawa quickly pats the area dry and wraps his chest with gauze before moving to comfort Risu.
He places one hand behind Risu's neck, gently massaging the vertebrae. He leans in to kiss at the right side of Risu's jaw as his left hand goes to rub at the other side, attempting to relax him. He coaxes Risu to release the mangled glove from his sharp teeth.
Risu reaches up suddenly and wraps his arms around Aikawa's belly, gripping his shoulders to ground himself. Risu digs his nose into Aikawa’s shoulder and Aikawa feels hot tears on his back. He pretends not to notice. His heart falls.
Aikawa switches to rubbing Risu's back gently in return. He rests his head on Risu's good shoulder, and softly kisses his hair. His shirt is soaked against his skin.
Quietly, Aikawa mumbles into Risu's hair, "I'm so sorry, Risu'', more to himself than anything. Risu's lips purse and his eyebrows knit, and that's all the response that's given.
A few minutes are spent like this before Aikawa reluctantly pulls away, his hands lingering on Risu’s shoulders before standing up. “I should leave… Make sure to rest so I don’t have to redo your stitches.” His attempt at humor falls flat, his heart isn’t in it. He’d come running to Risu like a dog no matter what. He’d do anything for Risu but tell him the truth.
"Please just… come to bed with me. I still need you." Risu reaches for Aikawa’s hands and holds his fingers softly over his own, his thumbs rubbing over his knuckles. His hands are rougher than Aikawa’s; he can feel each whorl of his fingerprints.
"Okay," Aikawa says, voice hoarse.
Risu brings the back of Aikawa's hand up to press against his lips and pulls him into bed. It isn’t the most comfortable, but there’s nowhere else Aikawa would rather be. The bed is a bit dented in places from how long it has been in use and the comforter smells like Risu. Risu turns onto his right side facing Aikawa and places his hand on Aikawa's hip. “Thank you. Just… stay. For once.” Aikawa nods.
Risu slides his hand up and cups Aikawa’s cheek to pull him into a kiss. He pulls back and props himself up on his right elbow before moving up onto his palms and swinging his leg over Aikawa’s hips. He settles down on Aikawa’s chest and lays his head over Aikawa’s heart. Aikawa chuckles a little. “You’re gonna screw up your stitches, that has to be pulling on them.”
Risu shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise. “I don’t get a chance like this very often.”
Aikawa winces, but it's not like Risu is wrong. He pulls Risu’s head close to his own and softly kisses his hair. Risu’s grip on his hip tightens and his shoulders shake near imperceptibly. He moves his head to nestle into Aikawa’s shoulder. Aikawa can feel Risu’s heartbeat against his own. Beating heart to bleeding heart. Aikawa can hear him whisper “I love you” into his shirt.
He brings his hand up to Risu’s back and rubs his thumb against his shoulders. “I’m right here, Risu.” Aikawa whispers. Risu shakes his head. Aikawa doesn’t respond; he doesn’t know if Risu is right or not.
Risu draws back. There’s hurt and anger swirling in his eyes but he doesn’t say anything. He just lays back with a harsh sigh, staring at his popcorn ceiling. Aikawa works up the courage to grab his hand, but can’t bring himself to do anything more. Risu doesn’t make any move to further their contact. Aikawa lays and rubs Risu’s palm as he falls asleep without another word.
Aikawa doesn’t fall asleep. He feels like he’s in a daze. This is all he’s ever wanted; to belong, to be loved, to feel wanted and worth something; so why does it feel so wrong? This could’ve been so perfect, he could’ve had it all. He wants to blame that thing but deep down he knows he’s to blame, too. Why can’t he stop hurting Risu? He’s been nothing but good to him, and all he does is let him down in return. This is an opportunity to fix things, but fixing things is risky. He knows he’s lying to himself when he says there’s a chance it’s not safe for Risu for him to stay tonight. He’s gotten pretty good at being able to tell when something is about to happen, but he still can’t bring himself to stay.
Risu’s hand is slightly sweaty against his own. It’s comforting in a weird way. He untangles their fingers.
He decides to leave his hoodie there as a sort of peace offering. He takes a pad of paper and pen off Risu’s kitchen counter and scribbles a note with a quick explanation. Sorry, headache. It’s bullshit, and it definitely won’t make anything better, but might as well.
Aikawa looks back at the bed as he lays his hand on the door knob. This is wrong. He knows it's wrong to leave Risu like this, after all of that. To make him wake up alone. He just couldn't risk it. He should've told him why at least, but… He could give excuses but none of them justify this.
“I love you, too, Risu. I’m sorry.” The door creaks open and Aikawa slips through. Aikawa can’t tell if the eyes he feels on his back are real or imagined, and he doesn’t want to find out.