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The first thing Shigeo does after Reigen walks him home is sleep for an entire day. His body is completely exhausted, would be broken and bruised if not for his powers, and so has no energy left to do much of anything. When he wakes up, a blanket is wrapped around his shoulders, and Ritsu is sleeping in a chair by his bedside.
The daybreak is quiet. The curtains of his ajar window rustle with the wind, which carries the sound of chirping birds. The first signs of light cut across the room, illuminating his brother.
Shigeo smiles. Ritsu seems unharmed, despite Shigeo’s… outburst. And now, with his realization of self, he can begin getting better and controlling himself more. Well– not controlling, but accepting. It’s a relief.
Wait. He startles.
“Where’s Hanazawa?”
–
“...internal bleeding…”
“Bruising all over, two broken ribs…”
“...lucky.”
Shigeo feels sick. It takes all of his effort not to double over and vomit everything in his stomach out in the trash bin. The doctors don’t let him in the room at first, saying that only family can visit, but with a plea from Hanazawa, they acquiesce. Shigeo doesn’t deserve to sit by his side.
The hospital room is cold and quiet, almost tranquil. But Hanazawa is sitting on the eerily white bed, bandages covering his arms and bruises in the shape of hands wrapping around his neck. They’re a dark purple. It almost looks like blood. The heart rate monitor beeps steadily. A wire curves down to his arm, a needle injected in his hand.
“It’s okay, Shigeo.” His friend says, so kind, yet punished for it.
No, it’s not.
“I’m fine, really.” He’s not. His voice is cracking around every vowel, and it sounds almost painful to get out, because his hand was so tight that it damaged his voice.
“I hurt you.” He sobs, hands twisting so tight in his lap that his skin threatens to break.
Hanazawa says nothing to that. He looks at him, eyebrows curved and face tight– tight because he’s in pain. His lips purse and he looks away, through the window that overlooks the city. After only a few days, the reconstruction efforts have begun, and some of the buildings that were destroyed are already being built up, slowly but surely.
But he still sees it. Still sees the effort to rebuild, the precious time it costs, the pain Hanazawa is in while his skin heals. Pain he has caused.
“You… you were hurting, too. You weren't thinking right.” Hanazawa looks back at him, a grin on his face that can’t completely conceal his strain. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.”
That doesn’t change anything, because you’re still here.
“Hey, all of this blame talk is making me sad. Let’s talk about something else, yeah?” Hanazawa hedges, shifting further up the bed to a sitting position. He winces and lets out a groan when he has to move his arms; Shigeo flinches back from the sight.
“C’mon, talk to me. How’s little brother been?”
It’s an easy topic: Ritsu, in all respects, has been great. “He’s good.” Faintly, Shigeo smiles. “He’s been spending time with his new friend, Shou.”
“Ah, I remember him! The red haired guy, right?”
He nods, hands trembling. “Mhm. And he–he’s doing well in school.” Just this week, he aced a test in math, despite all the stress Shigeo has caused recently.
“That’s great.” Hanazawa sighs, as if in relief that they’ve switched topics. He leans his weight further against the bed, shifting in discomfort as his shoulder bumps against the frame. “And Reigen?”
“The office wasn’t damaged, so he’s started taking jobs again, but…” Shigeo pauses, a curl of sadness in his chest. “He doesn’t have powers, so he can’t exorcize any ghosts without my help. Or with help from Serisawa, I suppose.” He forgave his master when he was back in his right mind, but it still… it hurts, the truth. A truth that was kept from him for so long.
“Wait, seriously!? He’s not a psychic?” Hanazawa gasps, then winces at the sudden jolt. His hands come up to cradle his ribs. Shigeo’s eyes track the movement, and his stomach drops further. “That’s crazy…”
He can’t bear to look at him any longer. To look at the signs of his pain, or the iv needle sticking unnaturally in his hand, or the purple and yellow bruises on his neck in the shape of his hands. His head drops, and he stares at the floor instead.
“Y’know,” Hanazawa laughs, “the food here sucks.”
“...It does?” He frowns while his friend nods.
“Do you think you could bring me something tasty the next time you visit?”
So Shigeo visits more. The next day, he brings a box of chocolates– a brand he’s never tried himself, but that Reigen says is very fancy, and that anyone would appreciate. It must be a good offering, because when he hands it over, Hanazawa looks at him with a smile so bright he thinks he might go blind. Shigeo watches as he eats it, the dark bruises on his neck stark against the white background of the bedsheets.
Hanazawa mentions how dull his room is. A day after that, he comes with a bunch of sunflowers and a vase. Hanazawa accepts it with a calmer smile; he’s tired, he says later, because they increased his pain medicine. He places the vase next to his bed, the brightness distracting from the purple. Shigeo’s hands are as clammy and cold as the condensation on a glass. He doesn't mention it; doesn't apologize again, because he knows that would just sour his friend’s mood.
One day, he brings takoyaki, and Hanazawa hums as he tastes the octopus and green onion filling; another, he brings a manga volume, some shonen series with a lot of action, that Hanazawa reads outloud, making Shigeo make the dramatic noises; in his final visit, he brings seafood ramen in a thermos.
The bruises are fading, now, after a week. Instead of a sickening purple, they’re more of a darker shade of his skin. He can’t stop staring, checking to see if they’re gone yet, and every time he sees that they aren’t, his mind thinks back to when his hands were around that throat. He tries not to look anymore. Hanazawa doesn’t need the iv in his hand since he can drink water on his own, so he moves his hands wildly as he speaks, almost mimicking Reigen.
Throughout his visits, his chair has been slowly inching forward until it’s right next to the bed. No matter where he looks, the blonde is in view. “..so I only watched it twice, since I got a bit bored, so I just went to sleep. But then a nurse woke me up in the middle of the night and I–”
“Hanazawa.” Shigeo murmurs.
“Yeah?”
“I’m… I’m really sorry.” His voice leaves his mouth cracked from guilt.
Hanazawa sighs, leaning his head back against his pillow. “This again? I told you that I’m not upset.”
“You did, but I just want you to know. Every time I look at you, I just… I just want to say sorry. For hurting you.”
Hanazawa frowns. Then, slowly, a grin grows on his face. “You could do something to make it up to me.”
“Wh-what?” Shigeo leans forward enough that his knees touch the edge of the bed. Their faces are close, now, enough that he can spy the glint of mischief in his friend’s eyes.
His hand raises– a spot in the middle of his hand is discolored from the iv– to Shigeo’s face, only a few inches from his lips. “You could kiss it better.” Hanazawa giggles, chest moving without a wince.
They cut off when Shigeo’s lips meet his hand, at the spot where the iv used to be. Hanazawa gapes at him. His hand holds his wrist with all the delicacy of holding a kitten, his veins under Shigeo's thumb. Through the touch, he feels his heartbeat going faster.
“You– you–” Hanazawa gasps, face blooming red. “Thank you.” He whispers faintly.
–
When Hanazawa finally gets released from the hospital, he’s mostly healed. The scars on his arms are light and hidden under the long sleeves of his school uniform, but the marks on his hands still stand out against his neck. The bruising is faded, but scars, a dark brown, mark the edges of his fingers. Shigeo doesn’t know how to make it up to him to truly apologize, but Hanazawa doesn’t want him to.
As he looks down at Shigeo, his eyes hold the same warmth and comfort as they always have. Deep in his heart, he is forgiven.