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Phoenix had always considered his best friend Yoru to be… larger than life. The sharp walk, the intimidating glare, and that damn night blue leather jacket he’s always wearing - everything about the riftwalker seemed untouchable. Gigantic.
But now, after a messy and hideous mission on Ascent, his stature became smaller than anybody else. Sage had mentioned worriedly that he took a lot of damage after obliterating the whole enemy team, and will need lots of time to heal at the VP Infirmary.
“He’s always muttering to himself.” Sage whispered to Phoenix. “Saying he doesn’t need all of this recovery and whatnot…”
“That’s classic Yoru for you.” Phoenix chuckled, but his anxiety for his friend skyrocketed. “I’ll pop round later after training. Bet he’s out cold by now.”
Phoenix’s training later that day went terrible. Out of focus, practice bullets ricocheting off him, Brimstone yelling at him to take it seriously, and another tattered white jacket. Great. He thought. At least it’s done. To be frank, he was only thinking about Yoru the whole time. He quickly showered (Yoru would mumble at him for showing up looking so homeless) and prepared some little goldfish snacks that the Japanese man said he despised eating but is the first one to take them when the fridge is restocked.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Yoru had just finished reading the last chapter of a novel when he heard a familiar whistle becoming annoyingly louder and louder.
At least he had the decency to knock.
“...Door's open.”
“Hey mate!” It swung open to reveal Phoenix wearing a casual black shirt with sleeves rolled up, and gray sweatpants. “Heard that mission earlier roughed you up proper. You holding up?”
Phoenix wasn’t sure if this was Yoru at first because he looked so different. His hair is down, messy and covering his forehead, and his posture, as well as attire is different. Everything is much more plain and basic and not Yoru. He seemed frail and fragile, with an IV line taped to his hand and a heavier scowling face.
His frame seemed narrower, his wrists slimmer. His hands, lying limp on the blanket, looked delicate against the harsh white.
“I’m doing just fine, thank you very much. Until you came in.” Yoru gave Phoenix that aggressive glare again.
“Aw, come on, don’t be like that.” The Brit commented, making himself comfortable in a chair nearby. “Picked up some stuff for you.”
It was at this moment that Phoenix had realized everything about Yoru was actually an illusion. Everything about Yoru is small. From his hands,waist, body, to his voice and demeanor… Everything. He’s only scary on the battlefield.
“... Thanks.” The smaller hands took the bag from Phoenix carefully. Yoru immediately hid the sparkle in his eyes when he saw his favorite snack. “I’ll eat it later.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“...Bloody hell.”
“...What now?” Yoru’s brow furrowed. This guy is always saying and doing something out of pocket.
Slowly, Phoenix’s warm hands glided over the bed, catching Yoru’s hand in his. He pressed them together, lining them up.
His hand swallowed Yoru’s easily.
“See? Tiny. You got little baby hands, huh?” Phoenix was engrossed in the hand - holding. “Can’t believe these hands are the same ones which rip the dimensions of fabric.”
Yoru tried to yank away. “Idiot. What do you think you’re doing-”
“Fits.” The taller man interrupted, lacing them together now. “Fits right in mine. Always does.”
Yoru wasn’t sure if Phoenix was using his abilities right now, but he felt a surge of heat ramming up his body.
“You’re being very annoying.”
Phoenix chuckled. “Yeah. But admit it, feels nice, innit?”
He continued to brush his thumb in slow circles over his friend’s hand and knuckles.
The silence, though not uncomfortable nor awkward, was stretched and tension - filled. Phoenix permitted himself to gaze longer at the wounded patient. He noticed how Yoru’s waist dipped beneath the sheets, how his body seemed without the armor of leather and attitude.
Carefully, almost without thinking, Phoenix reached to adjust the blanket higher, tucking it around Yoru’s side. Was this a heated blanket? He swore it became warmer by the minute, but he quickly noticed it was just the other duelist’s body heat.
“You’re really bloody small,” Phoenix whispered, voice softer than he meant it to be. “Smaller than I ever realized.” His hand lingered, covering almost all and resting gently at Yoru’s hip through the blanket.
Finally, they met each other’s gaze. Orange meets black.
Instinctively, as if having a mind of its own, Yoru’s fingers, one by one, start gripping Phoenix’s hand even tighter. Then, his other hand slowly reached over, caressing the other’s face. Neither of them pulled away.
Then, it came. Sharp, but hesitant. Yoru leaned forward, brushing his lips against Phoenix. A quick press. Barely there.
Both their faces were red when they pulled out of the fleeting kiss. Hands still interlocking.
“... You better not tell anyone.” Yoru said, covering his forehead with his other hand, as if hiding himself from an imaginary audience. His face was crimson, his glare a poor cover for the tremor in his voice.
“Aye, aye, captain.” Phoenix smiled brightly. There was not an ounce of embarrassment or awkwardness in his expression. “Not a soul.”
“When are you ever planning to leave?”
“Never. After that encounter?”
Glare.
“Your glare doesn’t work on me now, baby.”
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
“Yoru, I brought your breakfast!” Sage called out and opened the door anyway.
She wasn’t surprised when she saw Phoenix on the bed with Yoru, arm sprawled over his blanket as if to protect him from something. And Yoru, normally so stiff, had buried his head into the other’s chest.
Sage’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. She set the tray down quietly on the nearby table, careful not to wake them. The morning light spilling through the blinds painted them in a warm glow, softening the edges of their exhaustion.
Luckily it wasn’t Neon or Raze, as they would totally tell Brim and the others about it.