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Fukuzawa had been injured during their last mission. His wounds required intensive care that Mori, despite his skills, could not provide. So, they found themselves at an underground clinic, one of those hidden places where treatment was swift, though unconventional. Mori, always well-connected, knew the doctor there. It was a reminder to Fukuzawa of just how vast Mori's network was.
As he lay in bed, fresh out of surgery, fatigue washed over him. The ten hours of fasting before the procedure had left him drained. On top of that, the doctor had been late. Unlike a legitimate hospital, this clinic offered little in the way of comfort—just a piece of bread and some water placed beside him, likely by Mori or perhaps Natsume.
Mori entered the room, his voice breaking the silence. “Quite the luxurious accommodations, don’t you think?” he remarked with a smirk, referred to the too many empty beds.
Fukuzawa’s eyes followed Mori’s gaze. The room had four beds, but only his was occupied. The other patients had left that morning, leaving the space eerily quiet. It was a place that few knew existed, hidden away beneath the earth, its size and purpose a mystery to most.
Mori settled on a bed across from Fukuzawa, crossing his legs and arms as he surveyed him with a discerning eye. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice calm but tinged with concern.
“I’m fine. Ready to leave this place,” Fukuzawa replied, attempting to rise from the bed.
But Mori was quicker. He glided over, placing a hand on Fukuzawa’s chest, gently pushing him back down. “Not so fast, Fukuzawa-dono,” Mori said, his tone now serious. “You need to stay another day. We have to make sure you’re recovering properly.”
He patted Fukuzawa’s chest before turning away, his coat flaring out dramatically as he moved back to the empty bed. He kicked off his shoes, then lay down facing Fukuzawa. “I’ll keep an eye on you. Let me know if anything feels off,” he added, closing his eyes with a knowing smile.
Fukuzawa watched as Mori’s breathing slowly steadied, the exhaustion from the past two days of back-and-forth travel finally catching up with him. Despite Fukuzawa’s insistence that he didn’t need such close monitoring, Mori had refused to leave his side.
There was something serene, almost divine, about Mori when he wasn’t speaking. His thick eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly as he slept, and the way his raven hair fell across his face gave him an ethereal appearance.
Fukuzawa couldn’t tear his eyes away. In moments like this, he could almost forget that Mori was someone he would inevitably lose. Their work and relationship were not built to last. Deep down, Fukuzawa knew that Mori would eventually choose a darker path, but he couldn’t help but hope that it wouldn’t be a path that would make them strangers. He didn’t want to reach a point where even longing for Mori would fill him with shame.
Could he really become that person? Was Fukuzawa foolish for holding on to this hope after seeing Mori’s fierce dedication to protecting the city, or the sadness that flickered in Mori’s eyes when he lost patients in his clinic, even when it was his own doing? These contradictions, this blurred line between kindness and cruelty, were what had drawn Fukuzawa to him in the first place.
Fukuzawa rose from his bed, gripping the IV stand for support, and made his way over to Mori’s side. He carefully draped a blanket over Mori’s sleeping form, then sat down beside the bed. The position was uncomfortable, with nothing to support his back, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing this.
Mori’s eyes fluttered open, and Fukuzawa knew he had been awake since he first got up. Mori was a light sleeper, always alert to his surroundings. He frowned at Fukuzawa. “Fukuzawa-dono, why are you sitting there like that? You should be resting,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
“Nothing." Fukuzawa replied, his tone as even as always.
Mori’s frown deepened, then softened into a knowing smile. “You know, lying to me isn’t easy, even for you.” He shifted slightly, making more room on the narrow bed. “If you insist on keeping watch over me, at least lie down. You’ll hurt yourself sitting like that.”
“I wasn’t—”
“I can feel you staring, even before I fell asleep,” Mori cut in, his smile turning playful as he patted the empty spot beside him.
Fukuzawa sighed but complied. He adjusted his IV line and carefully lay down on the small bed, mindful of his wound. As he turned his head, their faces were so close that he could feel Mori’s breath on his skin. So close that he could count each one of Mori’s thick eyelashes. Mori’s body radiated warmth, and Fukuzawa realized that if he moved just an inch, their lips would meet.
So close, and yet so far.