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There was a weird tension in the air between Harumasa and Lighter. That was the first thing Belle noticed. The second was the weirdly spaced gap in between the two. The two had only met recently–er, from what she knew. She knew they had whatever mercenary-boss relationship going for them. For however long, she didn't know, but apparently they'd only started speaking casually recently, so she took that as that. Usually they are hip to hip, but for whatever reason they seem awkwardly flighty and fidgety around each other. Like they can't quite reach out to touch the other, but they also don't want to have that space between them.
Belle is hoping they resolve their weird love feud and actually fall in love at some point. Because at the rate they're going, they are never going to make progress. They are being extremely obvious about it, too, if the way Lighter's hands would linger on their friend, and the way Harumasa's eyes would flick over for milliseconds when he thinks no one is looking. Belle is really and truly happy for them, and she hopes they work it out soon.
However, being with Harumasa comes with health risks.
In the following days, Harumasa gets sick. Really sick. Like, he might need a hospital, sick. Belle doesn't know how to feel about that. Harumasa has always been super secretive about his life - despite them becoming fast friends and her brother having a short-lived crush on the man- and is never privy to sharing his struggles and thoughts with her. Annoying, but she respects his wishes. It's not like he never goes to her - when he first fell in love with Lighter, he denied it so vehemently, begging her for any other conclusion as to why he was acting the way he was around that “cocky, narcissistic, arrogant muscle-headed man.”
Admittedly, she was more than surprised by how strongly against the notion he was- Lighter is a great guy! Sure, a little wild, but he is in a gang. It comes with the environment. So yes, they talk to each other, and often. (She'd learned more than enough about the art of slacking off, thank you very much.)
Logically speaking, Harumasa should be comfortable with that by then. He'd had no qualms speaking about his health previously. In the entire time Belle has known him, she's only known Harumasa to get mild colds and allergies. He coughs often, but Harumasa says he's basically allergic to the outdoors. Nothing quite like this! He's been locked in his room for three days now, he'd barely eaten anything, he's barely drank water, heck she doesn't know if he's even awake.
His pharmacist and his doctor say his illnesses are no cause for concern and are just some residual effects from ether activity, blah blah, whatever. That's fine, but Harumasa is really, really sick, and it hurts her to see her friend in so much pain.
She just hopes he gets well soon.
–
Harumasa has a problem. A big one. A life-altering one.
…
He's fallen in love.
With a man, no less, who treats him like the finest of China and as though HR is glaring down their backs. And they're both acting as though nothing has changed.
Their fights are cordial, maybe a little snipped, snarky, and condescending, but they typically are resolved in a matter of days with no real harm done. Luckily, he thinks around the fog in his mind, a cough being forced from his chest, this time it wasn't a fight. Hell, he doesn't know what it is they're doing right now. They've been in some flirting, not quite dating territory for nearly a year now. They've been slowly growing closer, but from the beginning, he's felt a pull in his chest to the man. The way Lighter's eyes roved over him from the beginning made him feel warm–made him feel special. But they hadn't known each other. Now? There is something between them. They both know it. Lighter has already said he's in love with him, but they aren't dating. Why? He doesn't know. (He does.)
A few months back, Lighter confessed that he was in love with him. That was the happiest and also the worst day of his life. On the one hand, being loved by Lighter was a blessing. An absolute miracle. On the other hand, he's never been in love before, much less attracted to men.
He'd done his fair share of fooling around with women before, and he'd flirted with men when it benefited him; he'd never genuinely had feelings for a man, though. He was scared. He didn't know what exactly he felt for Lighter. His heart thundered in his chest whenever he was near him, his palms grew sweaty, his face warm. All typical symptoms of puppy love, he's learned. But still- what if it's all wrong? What if he's just confused? What if he's taken advantage of Lighter's apparent love for him?
He'd never be able to live with himself.
Luckily, that was all in the past. He'd finally grown the courage to confess that he liked Lighter back. (Possibly love, but he's pushing that one further off.)
And he was going to tell him. He was, he swears.
When suddenly, Lighter's attention on him dwindled.
Gradually, Lighter would hang out with him less and less, he'd take longer to respond to texts, and he no longer had the time to hang out with him.
The only logical explanation Harumasa could come up with was that Lighter no longer loved him and was trying to make their "break up" easier for both of them.
And that thought sent him spiraling. One moment, he was assured he was in love with the man who loved him, and then the next second, he was being pushed away. He couldn't take it. He thought about it from so many angles, wondered what had happened between them, and contemplated how to fix it for so long that he overheated. He worked himself into a migraine and had to lie down.
Unfortunately, Harumasa's brain is not known to be so kind and forgiving to him. No, even while a fever was rising and a migraine was implanting itself, his brain never stopped thinking about Lighter. It made his condition worse and worse, to the point he could no longer move, shaky limbs preventing him, and a head that hurt so much that whenever he so much as rolled over, his vision swam, and he was dizzy. Honestly, of all the ways for him to get sick. He has a terminal illness, and yet overthinking his love life has him laid out…
But hell, he prefers whatever this is over the usual terminal illness pains. He rolls over, head falling limply against his pillow. He had abandoned his bed sheets and comforter hours ago, and they now lay in a pile on the floor. Sweat covers every corner of his body, his pillow cover sticking to his sweaty face. Breaths leave him in heaving gasps, his chest working to drag in air.
“This is pathetic,” he grumbles aloud to no one in particular. His cat is not in the room, despite the door being open, and he lives alone. He throws an arm over his forehead. “Did I really think so hard about this that I got a fever…?” He groans again, rolling onto the other side. He's wearing nothing but a tank top Miyabi gave him as a training gift and shorts given to him by Yanagi on a group excursion. He has Soukaku's gift of dark chocolate on his bedside table, but the thought of food makes him nauseous.
He'd never admit it aloud, but he misses them dearly. Miyabi had been clear that should he need anything, she was willing to pause her newest training regimen, and even Yanagi was merciful with his time off. “Soukaku would probably cry if she saw me like this,” he laughs hoarsely. He wishes he knew where the water bottle went.
He's considering stripping off the last of his clothes when he hears a knock on his door. The sound makes his head pound, and he sincerely hopes whoever it is gives up.
They don't. The knocks become more frequent, more insistent. It doesn't end and they just. keep. knocking. With a resigned groan, he pulls himself upright and to his feet. He's grumbling to himself, annoyance rising. He pulls on his usual white button-up to preserve some sense of decency but can't find the coordination to get more than one or two buttons done. Trudging closer, he can hear his name being called with a sense of urgency.
He yanks the door open so hard he worries for its hinges.
“Who the hell is knocking so- Lighter?” He pauses his trade, looking up at the man with a surprised fluster. Lighter looks relieved at the door opening and admittedly a little sheepish. Harumasa pulls his shirt closed with one hand, unable to ignore how Lighter's eyes dip down his person even through the haze of fever. An embarrassed flush works its way around his fever flush–that man, seriously… he's sick, for crying out loud! Harumasa suddenly fears he's hallucinating that the man that has been ghosting him, the man that he has been aiming for, is at his doorstep.
“Hey, boss. I heard you're sick.” Lighter lifts his arms, which are lined with shopping bags. “I brought some things for you… Can I come in?”
Harumasa eyes them warily but steps back easily.
“Come in.” His voice is hoarse and raspy. He coughs to clear it, holding the door for his savior.
“With pleasure, boss.” Lighter strides in a few steps, fully confident, before stopping dead. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking over at the homeowner.
“Uh. Which way is your kitchen?” Harumasa is endeared by the concerned look on his face.
“Just around the corner,” he speaks quietly, feeling his energy drain now that the adrenaline has run out. “On your left, then the right. I'm going to lay down.” His eyes lower, his gaze growing fuzzy.
“Sorry. But I'm really tired.” Lighter nods once, firmly, before meeting his gaze.
“Wait here. I'll help you. I just need two minutes to put these away.” Harumasa is hesitant. He's grateful Lighter is there for him, but he's still mad at Lighter. For ignoring his texts. For ignoring his calls. He feels annoyed, suddenly glaring at the man. Lighter visibly falters at the shift in mood but doesn't break eye contact. Harumasa nods shortly and sits down with his back against the wall. Lighter's eyes follow his descent with concern.
“Be quick, then.” Lighter all but dashes away, narrowly dodging the column as he rounds the corner. Harumasa watches him go with a pout, mentally berating himself for falling in love with someone so weird. He can hear quiet shuffling and the occasional rough noise, but nothing shatters or slams so he's content enough.
Lighter comes back around quickly, and Harumasa almost feels like he's never left.
“That was quick,” he gets out around the thickness in his mouth. Lighter is sweating lightly.
“Sorry, I said two minutes but it was more like ten. Your layout is confusing.” Lighter hoists him up, carrying him towards where Harumasa pointed to earlier. He blinks, head foggy and empty. Ten minutes? But he just left.
“Boss, it was ten minutes. Are you okay?” Oh, he must have said that out loud. Lighter snorts and breaks into soft chuckles.
“Yes, you're muttering, boss.”
“Sonuva bitch,” he slurs. Had he really lost track of time? To that extent? Just how sick was he? He weakly gestures in the right direction at Lighter's prompting, and the man seems nervous. He can't feel where Lighter's body begins and ends anymore, everything feeling hot and fuzzy.
They must make it to his room, because Lighter pushes open a door. He's gently laid back onto his bed, the now-cool sheets cooling his Overheated body. He releases a sigh of contentment, missing how Lighter squirms.
“Boss, it's so hot in here,” Lighter notes, his handsome face scrunched in discomfort.
“It's ‘cause I'm in here,” he slurs, his brain-to-mouth filter gone but still trying to crack jokes. Lighter barks a surprised laugh that makes his ears ring, and Harumasa gets a good look at his handsome face. When did he take his sunglasses off? Lighter blinks down at him when Harumasa's hands raise to ghost over his cheeks.
“You're not wearing your sunglasses?” He mumbles, his vision blurry. His eyes fall shut, his lashes tickling his cheekbones.
“It's not that bright in here, boss.”
“My name is Harumasa.” Lighter gives him a look, his eyes dark and gaze meaningful. He wonders what he must look like, what Lighter must think. Were he more stable-minded he could have hazarded a guess, but the way his brain is mushroom is making it hard to decipher his face.
“Boss, where's your thermostat?”
“Harumasa.” He doesn't pout. Lighter's face twists.
“Boss-”
“Haru. Masa. Harumasa.” Gods, he sounds like a child. He's a grown man begging (he's not begging, thank you) another grown man to call him by his name.
“...Harumasa. Where is your thermostat?” He smiles dopily up at the man from where his face is smashed in a pillow.
“By the front door.” He's all but forgotten his anger, damn him! He's angry! He glares at Lighter then and rolls over. “Fuck you.”
“Wha- princess?” He can hear the confusion at his rapidly changing moods and words, but he doesn't care. Lighter Lorenz is a jerk for ignoring him, and he deserves to be ignored back.
“Don't call me that. Shut up. I hate you.” He yanks his pillow over his head, and presses it firmly over his ears. He feels Lighter lay a tentative hand on his side, and if he were in a clearer state of mind he would note how Lighter is trying to be decent and avoid his waist or hip, by keeping the touch light on his ribcage. But he isn't, and he's irrational.
“So you want my attention now?” He spits and wiggles the hand off. The motion makes his head swim, and his eyes shake in his skull. He groans, flopping around bonelessly. All of his energy leaves him in a single huff, and he feels sick once more. Does his body have a higher limit compared to normal people? Is his pain threshold high or something? His hearing is next, making him feel like he's underwater, and he gazes blankly at Lighter, who is nervously trying to get his attention. Lighter's handsome, concerned face is the last thing he sees before he passes out.
–
When he wakes next, his everything hurts. His head is pounding, he is shivering under his bedsheets, and he is covered with his blankets again. There's an ice pack on his forehead, is the next thing he notices, and his room in general feels cooler. For some reason. Did he sleepwalk and turn down the thermostat? He's flushed from head to toe, and he's glad his lights are off because his eyes are already irritated from being open. Slowly looking around his room, he finds that his button-up is folded and pressed, his slacks are folded, and his desk is organized. Did he clean his room while unconscious or something…?
He hears shuffling from his living room and, he doubts it, but someone may have broken into his apartment. It's highly unlikely because he lives in a high-security clientele complex, but the chances are never zero. He hears the steps approaching, and–against his sick body's better judgement– he jumps to hide out of view behind the door. With how sick he is, his best option of defense is catching the robber off guard.
The door opens with a quiet squeal–characteristic of a robber trying to sneak around, his frazzled mind reasons. He notes that the man is tall and built, so this may be his best chance. His CQC training kicks in at once. He swings an arm out, catching the man around the neck, his foot hooking around the tall man's ankle. The man makes a surprised noise and tries to get free, but Harumasa is faster. He flips the man over his shoulder with a heft, throwing him as hard as he can. The man yells in alarm, flailing, before falling flat on his back. Harumasa is quick to flip the man to his stomach and twist his arm in its socket, locking his legs around it.
“Try anything and I promise I will break your arm,” he warns slowly, the threat completely serious. He tries to hide how the fever is making him dizzy, and he's trying not to loosen his grip. The man slaps his hand on the ground.
“Ow! Harumasa it's me! C’mon princess, that hurts!” Harumasa's jaw drops.
“Lighter? Why are you here? How did you get into my apartment?!” He immediately releases Lighter's arm but doesn't get off him. Lighter groans, rolling out his shoulder.
“Damn, princess, color me impressed,” the man underneath him grumbles. He turns over quickly, managing to keep Harumasa from stumbling as he settles on his back. He meets Lighter's amused (pained grimace) face with his own guilty face. Harumasa flattens his hands on Lighter's chest, with nowhere better to put them. He's not fully conscious of the action, only knowing that Lighter was in his apartment. Why the hell is Lighter in his apartment?
“I came over to take care of you.” Lighter's thumbs massaged circles on his hips, the action sending a fluttery feeling in his heart. “You don't remember?”
“No? When did you do that?” Lighter chuckles, the vibrations running up Harumasa's spine.
“I've been here a while now, princess. You let me in.”
“No I didn't. And stop calling me that.” He complains lightly, trying to get up. Lighter's hands tighten and he doesn't get far. He frowns down at the man who simply grins up.
“Seriously, I'm impressed. It's been a while since someone has thrown me like that.” He has a lovesick look on his stupid face.
“Oh? The great Lighter Lorenz doesn't like flying?”
“More like I'm undefeated, princess. The red scarf isn't just for show.” His frown deepens, much to Lighter's apparent amusement. He smiles, wide and unfriendly, his thighs tightening around Lighter's chest.
“My my, the great red scarf taken down by Section Six… A sick one, no less. However will you recover?” He's gratified when Lighter's face twists in defense.
“I could have stopped you at any time.”
“Sure, of course you could have, red scarf.” He purrs, leaning his body weight into the man. He absently notes that they're crossing into territory that he's since avoided, but his fever-addled brain is clouding his (usually impeccable) judgment. Lighter is fully frowning now, hands tightening in displeasure.
“Princess, you're not that heavy. I absolutely could have overpowered you.” The phrasing sends a rush of pleased heat through him and his smile is wobbly and embarrassed. Lighter must also notice because his hands immediately let go, and he starts backtracking.
“I mean, I'm stronger than you- n-not stronger, I have bigger muscles! I do hand to hand combat and you're small, but just- no! I mean,” he's rambling, trying not to sound condescending to the man he told he's in love with, but ultimately he keeps fumbling. Harumasa laughs until his lungs break into coughs and his head feels fuzzy.
“I wanna go to bed,” he mumbles into Lighter's chest, who is quick to his feet. He's picked up into strong arms and deposited into his bed.
“I'm feeling deja vu,” Lighter mumbles. “Are you going to get mad again?” Harumasa blinks slowly.
“Why would I be mad?”
“Dunno. Why would you be mad?” Lighter sounds strangely petulant. What did he say earlier? If only he could remember literally anything.
All he remembers is being ignored. And–ah. Yup, that's it.
“You were ignoring me.” Lighter twitches. “You told me you're in love with me, then you started ignoring me.” Lighter flinches. “Why?”
His face looks like he's debating whether to lie, but one fierce look has Lighter crumbling.
“Lucy told me to.” Harumasa blinks. He's still mad because, well, that's not really a reason. But it's a start.
“The Sons of Calydon member? Your gang member?” Lighter nods. He looks embarrassed for such a hulking presence.
“She said it- uh. She said it would… make you notice me. Like, when you like someone, you give them the cold shoulder? Makes them want you, she said.”
“...”
“...Uh, so. Yeah, that's about it.” He's speechless. What even does he say to such a stupid remark? Seriously. Who does that?
“I thought you didn't like me anymore.” Lighter looks rightfully guilty. As he should. Because what the hell. He is the reason he’s currently laid out sick as a dog, for god's sake.
“I'm sorry, that wasn't my intent…” Lighter runs a calloused hand through dark locks. The fever must be getting to him because Harumasa is finding it hard to stay mad at the man. The way Lighter is looking at him now is melting his resolve.
“No shit.”
“Princess, you weren't giving me much to work with.”
“Do not pin this on me. You are stupid. I’m a genius. I graduated top of my class.” Lighter raises his hands in complacency. Harumasa sighs, deflating into his pillow. The lights are still turned low, and he can clearly see Lighter’s eyes.
“I like you too, dumbass.” Lighter stares at him, open-mouthed and surprised. His face is gradually turning red.
“Harumasa, have I ever told you how pretty you are?” He stares up at the man in disbelief. His cheeks are hot from more than just the fever.
“Are you taking advantage of my sickness? Not very gentlemanly of you.” Lighter drops his face into the mattress next to Harumasa’s own. He groans into the sheets.
“I'm so in love with you.”
“I got it.”
“No, seriously, you're the best thing to happen to me.”
“Stop!”
“Harumasa, princess, can I kiss you?” His handsome face crowds into his, their noses touching. From this close, he can see the spark of red in Lighter's eyes, and his hair is brushing his forehead. He glares balefully up at the man.
“I'm still sick, Lorenz.” Lighter doesn't move. If anything, he gets closer, so their faces can rub together, large hands settling onto his waist.
“Just one won't kill me, princess.”
“Well, they say idiots don't get sick…” His hands raise to cup Lighter's face, gently stroking his jawline. Lighter smiles at him, adoring and sweet.