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The Sirius Light surgeries are reported successful.
Kirschtaria's own weighs heavily upon his dead circuits, a supernova bound up in his veins. He had been the first to go under the knife to test the road ahead and today, Team A has finished receiving theirs. It's another step towards the final defense of humanity. Another step closer to his goal. Kirschtaria finds Chaldea tests his patience more than the Clocktower because victory feels just within his grasp, with every little setback threatening to push it beyond reach once more.
He leaves his office with intent to visit the infirmary and receive Dr. Romani's recovery report in person. Team A will be out of training for a week, and another two weeks will pass before they do anything that requires magecraft, but the time lost is well worth it. He strides down the curved halls, inclining his head on the rare occasion he passes another person.
He doesn't expect Daybit.
Daybit's hand is pressed to the wall, fingers leaving streaks of scarlet. He moves slowly, every step its own battle. He can't help the way his name slips from his lips— "Daybit?"
Daybit's head jerks up at that. Kirschtaria glimpses wide eyes through his choppy bangs, the rings around his pupils seeming to quiver. The air carries a sudden charge of static, every hair standing to attention.
"'m not going back there," Daybit says hoarsely, voice rough like a gravel road. Kirschtaria's gaze softens. Daybit has never dealt with pain killers and anesthesia well. The Angelic Artifact views such agents as something to be purged, he once told Kirschtaria.
"I never said you were. I had the privilege to recover in private. I'm sure you'd prefer the same." He steps forward slowly. Daybit watches him warily, but lets him hook an arm around him, sliding it under his armpit to support him. Daybit's weight is immediately on him and although Kirschtaria staggers under it momentarily, his knees don't buckle. Daybit can lean on him. He always could. "Here, let me—"
The first step they take together is a stumble, but they figure it out. Daybit eases his weight off him a little, his hand gripping Kirschtaria's shoulder like a steel trap. Step by step, Kirschtaria keeps guiding him, until they reach his room at last.
There is no door in Chaldea that could deny Kirschtaria, but his personal room is closest and best guarded. He reaches for his keycard with his free hand and swipes it— the door whirs open.
The finish line in sight, they make it to the bed. The mattress creaks as Daybit drops down, body relaxing with immediate relief. He sways unsteadily where he sits as Kirschtaria goes to close the door. The only privilege he has allowed himself is the private bathroom, his room otherwise identical to any other on the hall. It's where there's a first aid kit stashed away under the sink, in case of emergency. He retrieves it.
He moves back to where Daybit is waiting, watching him through the curtain of his bangs. His jaw is clenched, fingers pale where they knuckle against the bed. Kirschtaria takes the seat, careful to be slow as he moves into the other's space. The kit opens with a click. "I'm afraid that we will have to do this without the use of magecraft. I'm sure Dr. Romani explained the dangers of activating your circuits so soon after surgery."
Daybit glances down at his arm.
Blood trickles sluggishly from where the IV must have been torn out, spots of brilliant scarlet staining the pale blue gown. He would have sent anybody else back to Dr. Romani, but Daybit's ability to heal is quite unlike anything Kirschtaria has ever seen. Wordlessly, Daybit offers his arm to him. Copper pools already in the hollow of his elbow, the air metallic with the scent.
"Do as you will." Daybit says at last, words slurring together slightly.
Kirschtaria plucks a cotton ball from the pristine case and holds it firmly against the wound. He bends his head low to watch his work, inhaling the sharp scent of antiseptic. His hair spills over Daybit's arm, twining like ivy. He tries to focus on something— the pressure he's applying. The shapelessness of Daybit's gown. Anything but the way Daybit's skin burns to the touch.
For his part, Daybit holds perfectly still. His breathing comes raggedly, soft and labored like a game animal. Kirschtaria strains to hear it over the hum of the fluorescent lights.
"I will inform the doctor not to worry about your disappearance." He lifts the pressure as he straightens up. The cotton ball comes away stained sanguine. Daybit shifts and holds out his good hand expectantly— Kirschtaria passes it to him.
It's a clean shot into the trash can across the room.
Kirschtaria reaches next for the gauze pad, ducking his head to hide his small smile. He presses it to the wound to tape it there, fingers squeezing around Daybit's arm. It feels like too soon when he has to let go, hands falling away. He resituates them neatly in his lap, his gaze on the far side of the room.
"I will have to leave again soon. There are still many things in Chaldea that require my attention. I was just going to check up on Team A when I found you." He finally says. Neither of them move, and Daybit's breathing comes just a little bit easier. "That being said, feel free to rest here."
"Okay." Daybit murmurs.
He moves away from Kirschtaria slowly, reluctantly. Kirschtaria stands up to give him the bed and watches as Daybit flattens himself against the wall, reaching to tug the pillow over his head. There's an empty space against him, begging to be filled.
"Good night, Daybit." Kirschtaria bids him. He turns out the lights when he leaves, and closes the door quietly behind him.
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It is the early hours of the morning when he returns from his rounds.
Team A dozes still in their pale gowns and under cotton sheets, sequestered away behind privacy screens. Morphine trickles a promise of deep sleep and no dreams. Kirschtaria only intends to retrieve a change of clothes. There are empty rooms awaiting future Master candidates and he wouldn't be the first to take advantage of it.
The door opens quietly for him, and he steps into the darkness of his room. There's still the distinct slope of a body in his bed, an arm securing the pillow. But as quiet as Kirschtaria is, his footsteps the barest brush against carpet, Daybit wakes all the same when he finishes changing.
The pillow lifts. Those luminous eyes blink open, regarding him sleepily. "Kirschtaria?"
"I'm just getting a change of clothes. I'll sleep in another room." Kirschtaria soothes.
"There's enough room here." Daybit answers, drawing back the blanket to welcome him. Kirschtaria hesitates.
This is something they were meant to leave behind in London. Chaldea is both a second chance and a last chance. It'll be better if they're strangers.
(He knows there is more to Marisbury's suicide, knows the answer may just lie before him. He needn't look into that particular abyss to know it is not grief he feels, but gratitude.)
But he has always slept best next to Daybit. It is the last night they'll be able to share together. Once Daybit heals, they must go back to being Team A's leader and a subordinate. It's better that way.
"Just this once," he relents as he steps forward. The bed dips beneath his weight, sheets warm with the heat of another. Daybit nudges the pillow towards him and he lays his head against it, feeling Daybit's breath blow gently against his hair. Daybit's hand slides beneath his shirt, flattening itself against Kirschtaria's stomach. They have only a single blanket to cover them both, but even the Antarctic chill doesn't register like this.
There is nowhere else he would rather be.