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Kaiji awoke to a searing pain in his temples and the violent metallic crunch of a beer can beside his head. Moving upward as he reeled from the sound, he placed a hand on his bandaged ear, letting out a sharp exhale as he cursed the pain quietly. With a furrowed brow squinting his eyes nearly shut, the pain calmed. Wearily, he shooed away the can and rubbed his half-lidded eyes.
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
Kaiji took a moment to process the situation before responding with a gruff, monotone inflection.
“How long have you been here, Sahara?”
“Long enough to see you roll your face over a beer can,” he snickered.
Tossing another can into the trash bag on the floor, Kaiji sighed to himself, too tired to push back against Sahara's jab.
Maybe it was the was the pain in his ear or the strange burning he felt from the hand he was still unable to move, or perhaps even just the stress of knowing everything that happened the day before was getting to him, but whatever it was, he couldn't seem to muster the will to get out of bed or acknowledge Sahara properly.
Sahara took his good hand, gently pulling it towards himself. “Here, you'll probably need these,” he offered, dropping some ibuprofen into Kaiji's palm.
Wordlessly he swallowed the pills before washing it down with a glass of room temperature water.
Kaiji groaned and clenched his eyes shut as he laid back on the futon, his body scrunched up like a wounded animal.
“Kaiji…” Sahara called, his face tinged by an underlying worry.
“Mhm?” He managed to murmur in response.
Sahara crossed his legs and leaned back, talking to himself as he looked away. “Aw man, how do I say this?” He paused for a moment and looked back at his dreary companion. The man's eyes seemed to not even register him, their function stifled by drowsiness and the eyebags carved beneath them. “You uh…you look like shit, dude.”
Kaiji let out a heavy, coarse sigh, lamenting his situation and the pain he was currently in.
“I cut my own ear off, I can barely use my own hand and I have a splitting headache—of course I look like shit.”
“Could you sit up for a moment?”
Heeding to his request, Kaiji shifted his weight and sat to face him, hair unkempt and covering his face.
“Listen…” he began, moving Kaiji's hair out of his eyes, “I know you're going through a lot right now, but…I think it's more than that.”
“What are you saying?” Kaiji grumbled.
“You're still beating yourself up over the outcome of the gamble aren't you?
Kaiji’s body jolted back slightly as he held his mouth open in the attempt to rebuke him.
He wanted to say it wasn't true. He wanted to pretend that he could simply move on from the tragedy of yesterday and continue forward like he told himself he should, but Sahara knew him better than that and Kaiji figured there'd be no way his companion would buy such a blatant falsehood. Nevertheless he had to try.
“What's done is done. I'm over it.”
“I'm not stupid, Kaiji.”
It was worth a shot.
Kaiji exhaled sharply and snickered, “Is it that obvious?”
Sahara smirked back at him.
“You have a lying voice.”
“You didn't have to kick me while I'm down.”
“Oh but I do. I can't pass up an opportunity like this.”
“Of course not.”
Sahara chuckled, “Hey it's not all bad!”
“What do you mean?” he said through a fatigued yawn.
“Just wait here,” he said with a fervent smile as he got up and walked toward the kitchen.
Prior to then, Kaiji hadn't yet noticed the aroma emanating from that side of the apartment, but it was hearty and smelled of warmth; small notes of spice tinged the scent along with the faint odor of cigarette ash and booze lingering from the day prior. It was strangely pleasant despite how it kind of smelled kind of like a street corner; something about it felt homey and familiar—comfortable.
Soon after he left, Sahara returned with a bowl in each hand, giving one to Kaiji as he sat on the tatami next to him.
“It's still kinda hot so try not to touch it with your bare hands for too long,” he cautioned, placing the bowl in his lap as he held the sides of it though his borrowed t-shirt.
As Kaiji looked into the bowl, he was pleasantly surprised by the gesture. “Sahara, did you make soup for me?” he asked.
“Yeah! Uh, something like that,” he replied with a shrug.
Kaiji let out a small snorted laugh before speaking. “What do you even mean by that?” he attempted to clarify.
“Well, uhhh…” Sahara began, pausing to slurp up a large portion of noodles before continuing, “I can't actually cook.”
Kaiji laughed again. “Then what is this?” he asked, pointing to the food with one of his chopsticks.
Sahara moved in closer and set his bowl aside, taking Kaiji’s chopsticks into his hand. “What that is , is a pack of instant ramen with a boiled egg I got from the convenience store,” he clarified as he stirred the broth around in the bowl.
“Where'd you even get the money for that? I could've sworn I ran out of instant ramen and I thought you left your money at your place,” he inquired.
“Took it from your wallet,” he replied plainly.
For a moment Kaiji’s mouth was agape, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't think of the words before giving up and settling on “I'm not even surprised.”
Sahara snickered at his response. “Hey, I don't work for free. I cooked for you, so you're buying the ingredients,” he joked.
“You boiled water! That's hardly cooking,” he retorted, a bout confused laughter escaping him.
“There's an egg in there, Kaiji! An egg! I even put it in a bowl to make it all fancy-like. That's dedication.”
A crinkled smile overtook Kaiji’s features, his lips turning up at the corners as he spoke with a raised eyebrow. “Sure.”
Seeing Kaiji so unconvinced, Sahara moved to his next course of action. “Here, I'll make it worth your while,” he countered as he held up the bowl to Kaiji and picked up some noodles between the chopsticks. “Your hand still hurts right?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Pleasantly surprised once again and disregarding his pride, Kaiji allowed Sahara to feed him the noodles.
“How is it?” he asked, feeding kaiji another little portion.
Quite frankly the food was fine—perfectly serviceable for some artificially flavored chicken thing, but something made Kaiji feel rather content and safe while he consumed it—like he was truly cared for as he hadn't been in many years.
“It's pretty good, I guess,” Kaiji remarked with a mouth full of ramen noodles.
Sahara lit up, a carefree smile lifting the corners of his eyes. “Awww, you do like my cooking after all—!” he teased.
Kaiji couldn't help but chuckle a bit.
“Maruchan did all the hard work.”
“Is Maruchan lovingly feeding you noodles right now?” Sahara jovially retorted.
With a long uninterrupted sigh from Kaiji, Sahara's argument remained undefeated once more.
“I suppose not,” he ultimately surrendered.
Smiling once again, Sahara set down the empty bowl after Kaiji had finally finished it. Soon after, he returned to his own serving and placed it in his lap as he moved in closer to Kaiji, wrapping one of the man's arms around himself before deciding he was comfortable.
Kaiji leaned into the interaction, resting his head on Sahara's shoulder as if it was the only natural thing to do. Together they sat there, undisturbed, relishing their proximity and the presence of the other as a fan whirred next to them, rhythmic and pleasant in sound.
“I'm really glad you're here…” Kaiji spoke in a near whisper.
Sahara raised a hand to his own face, trying to contain a small laugh as he tittered to himself over the blunt sincerity of the statement unsuspected of the gambler.
“Do you think you could say that again, Kaiji?”
Instinctively Kaiji tensed up pulling him closer and burying his face in the crook of the man's neck in the process as he made an attempt to quell his embarrassment and the growing flush in his cheeks.
“I know you heard me…” he sheepishly replied.
“I definitely did, but I'd reeeally love to hear you say it again,” he relentlessly teased as he pulled gently at Kaiji’s pinched cheek.
Kaiji sighed and finally lifted his head from Sahara's shoulder.
“I'm really glad you're here, Sahara.”
Sahara grinned and pulled Kaiji's face closer to his own.
“I'm glad I'm here too.”
Sitting up to meet the man's face, Sahara promptly kissed him before comfortably returning to his meal.
For a moment, he was surprised by the gesture, heat rushing to his face, washing his extremities with a rosy tint, but soon enough he regained his composure as his partner settled into him.
It was an unparalleled moment of tranquility—every simple interaction culminating into this moment. He didn't have to think, he didn't have to worry, he didn't have to push his mind to every extreme just to survive until the next day.
For now, he could simply enjoy the simple bliss of another's company.