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The room smells of mint and antiseptic.
Kit breathes it all in, jolting up in his place. His limbs are sore, his joints creak, and his head pounds as if he just woke up from the worst hangover in his life.
The last memory that he has is hazy at best. He tries to pull on its thread, attempting to find a clearer picture of his predicament. Some things come back in flashes – a steady light of his gun, two void-filled eyes staring back at him. A strong smell of acid, and someone’s hands wrapping around him and picking him up.
Kit hears a low snore somewhere to his right. He exhales softly, spotting Ty curled up in the loveseat near the window. His eyes are closed, and there is a small rubbery ball clutched in between his hands.
Kit's heart gives a dull thump. Ty's features are fully relaxed, his face static in a state of bliss. There is a small line of drool in the corner of his lips.
Kit smiles, pushing himself off his hands in an attempt to get up. A sharp pang shoots through his shoulder, and he hisses in pain.
“You shouldn’t move.” Ty's hand is suddenly on his shoulder, lightly pushing him back down. “You lost a lot of blood.”
His voice is low and hushed. Glimpsing at the window, Kit comes to the conclusion that it's the middle of the night and all the people nearby are probably sleeping.
“Did you know that you snore?” Kit asks, clutching his ribs and propping himself against the wall with the last bit of strength he has.
Ty's eyebrows shoot up. If he is embarrassed, it's not reflected in the slightest on his face. “You really should lie down.”
“You also drool.”
Ty purses his lips, his fingers still grasping the fabric of Kit's shirt at the shoulder. “Drooling is very common,” Ty says. “Bleeding out and hissing in pain from slight movement is not.”
“Makes me look manlier, though.”
The corner of Ty's lips curls. Something bursts inside Kit's chest – making Ty laugh is a complicated affair, and every time he succeeds it feels like winning a lottery.
“You don’t need to look manly.” Ty shakes his head. “In fact, I'd prefer that you don't throw yourself into danger in front of me next time. I am quite capable of fending for myself.”
Kit frowns. “I did that?” He asks. His memories are still cloudy, as if engulfed in a thick fog.
“You don’t remember?” Ty's voice thins out.
It's hard to gauge if he is upset or simply worried. Ty has always been rather straightforward with his expressions, but a few years spent apart made Kit less receptive.
“Not really. It's as if I woke up from a very bad dream,” Kit admits. “Did you carry me here?”
He is suddenly aware of how close Ty is to him. How the warmth of his touch burns even through the fabric of his shirt.
Ty sucks in a breath. He rarely blushes, but there is a pinkish hue at the tops of his cheeks. It makes him look younger.
“I did.” Ty shrugs. “You’re not that heavy, you know.”
“I am average height, thank you very much,” Kit mumbles, but smiles softly.
Ty hums uncomittaly. “You definitely have more muscle now.”
It's Kit's turn to blush now. He hopes the poor lighting of the room conceals the severity of it. “Don’t need much muscle to shoot a gun,” he shrugs.
Sometimes Kit forgets how easy it is to be around Ty. How well they fit together, like small puzzle pieces that are finally put in their place. How light Kit feels around him when there is no grudge poisoning his insides.
“Kit.”
Kit's head snaps up. He must have stayed silent for longer than a few minutes.
Their eyes meet. Ty looks back at him sternly, with no hesitation, his gaze locked steady in place. The grey of his eyes is like a sea in a storm, volatile but beautiful in its chaos.
“You can’t do that again,” he says. “You can’t just jump in front of me without thinking.”
“I was thinking,” Kit replies. “I was thinking that you would do the same for me.”
“I would.” Ty nods. There is no hesitation in his voice either, leaving no room for any debate. “But you shouldn’t.”
Kit frowns. “Why?”
Ty looks away, his hand sliding down from Kit's shoulder. His other hand is fidgeting with the chain around his neck, pulling it from side to side. “Because you will leave. Because I will have another debt that I can not possibly repay.”
Kit lets out a strangled sound. Ty's hand is immediately at his side, most likely confusing it for a sound of pain.
Kit is not in pain. At least, not physically. Something in his chest starts to fill in, as if there is a small Ty-shaped hole right in the middle of his heart, neatly tucked away from the outside world, and now it's filling in to the brim.
“Are you hurt?” Ty's voice shakes as his eyes roam him up and down, scanning for any injury. “Do you need another iratze? For me to call someone?”
Kit's hand moves on its own. He grasps Ty's face gently, cupping his cheek. The skin underneath his fingertips tingles, as if charged with electricity.
Ty exhales, his breath fanning over Kit's fingers. He closes his eyes, mumbling something intangible.
Later on, Kit would probably blame this on his clouded judgment. His thumb slides across Ty's lower lip. It’s soft and plush, but so pale.
Kit has a few ideas on how to bring more color to it.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” Kit admits. His chest hums pleasantly, as if agreeing. “Can I do that?”
For a few dreadful seconds, Ty doesn’t reply. Kit is in a full position to bolt – he even plans some escape routes. Through the window and on the roof, to throw himself right off of it.
The train of thought crashes right there as Kit feels a pleasant weight on his lips. There are no fireworks, no explosions. It should be underwhelming for something that Kit has been seeing in his dreams since the day Ty put his blade to Kit's throat.
Instead, Kit feels lightness. As if something heavy was lifted off his chest, letting him go. Up, up, and further up.
Kit grasps Ty's cheek with more vigour and opens his mouth. There is a sigh, and a slight stutter of Ty's breath, but instead of pulling away, he pushes right into Kit. His hand climbs up his shoulder until it reaches Kit's hair, finger tangling into his curls. Ty gives them an experimental tug, ever so lightly and barely there.
Kit lets a sound. He does not have much brain power to register it, but knows it is rather undignified.
They pull apart, and Kit stares in horror at his own hand sneaked under Ty's shirt, feeling quite at peace there as it caresses a spot just under his protruding ribs.
Kit closes his eyes, bumping his forehead into Ty's. He feels warm, almost burning.
There are so many words that need to be said. So many apologies to be made. But right now they blend together, tangled into one big thread that Kit just can’t decipher.
“Will you stay?” Kit asks quietly, his eyes still closed. Ty is still breathing heavily right into the space between his shoulder and neck.
He nods, his hands going around Kit's waist, pulling them both down onto the bed.
The next morning, Kit wouldn't remember falling asleep. Someone would find him and Ty as a tangled nest of limbs, inseparable from one another.
As it was meant to be from the day they met.