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He wasn‘t exactly sure what had caused this low. He had tried to kill himself just days ago - had it been days… or were it weeks now? Fuchi had lost all sense of time like he had lost all of his other senses. There was only this numbness left, that made him unable to get up, to move even an inch. He didn‘t even have the energy to kill himself. Well, time would probably do it for him if he stayed like this.
His phone had long been shut off because the boy couldn‘t even bother to charge it. Not even doomscrolling was enticing enough for him to get up. Thinking about it, Fuchi wasn‘t even sure where his phone was at the moment. The last time he saw it, it lay next to him in his bed, repeatedly playing the video he had taken of Tobi holding his hand. The one video he hadn‘t been able to delete prior to his attempt of ending it all.
He wasn‘t even sure what had triggered that attempt on Christmas Eve. It had been just this unbearable need to go through with it. Maybe it was, because after that wonderful day with Ryuuko and Tobi Fuchi had been sure that he couldn't go back to his life - mediocre at best, absolutely hell at the usual.
Now, he didn‘t even feel like dying. He didn‘t feel anything. It was as if he had just decided to stop existing and slowly but surely he just faded away.
Though, his body still wanted to live, at least so it seemed. When the thirst got too much, Fuchi sometimes got up, the world spinning around him. Then he would stumble to the next source of water, drink his fill until the devastating thirst subsided or he almost choked to death by drinking too hastily. Feeling the water almost making its way down his airways always left him with memories of that Christmas Eve, of the sea claiming his body and forcing the salty water down his airways.
The first few times, he had panic attacks. But even those vanished as his numbness grew.
Thirsting for water was the only way how his body struggled against this slow death. Just as it had struggled in the water, as the salty sea had breached his mouth and slowly started to fill his throat, making its way to his lungs. He remembered how his body moved on its own, trying to find the way up again, to breath. He had gulped down gallons of water as his body tried to breathe in a panic. Until Tobi had found him and his body had went limp.
The only other reason for getting up was, when he absolutely needed to use the toilet. Even though he hadn‘t washed in who knows how long, the thought of laying in his own excrements was too much, even for him.
And so he lay there in his bed. Staring at the wall or the ceiling. Unsure if he was awake or sleeping. Day and night blurred into each other just like reality and dream did. Sometimes he heard people outside, probably people that vandalised his door. The door of the Shinjuku Shooter. They had the right to do so. Fuchi had killed those people. Even though he hadn‘t been in control of his body at that time. That didn‘t make him innocent. And how was he even supposed to explain that to anyone?
He had felt bad. More than that. He wished he could give those people their life’s back. Lifes lost because he was too bad at dying, apparently.
Hopefully, this time he will finally stop existing.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
Even the pain he should feel had stopped. There was no ache in his belly because he didn‘t eat for … how long again? There was no thumping in his head because he was dehydrated. There was nothing. Even Mr. Creepypasta had vanished from his usual spot in a corner of his small apartment.
His apartment. How long has it been since he paid rent? After the shooting he had lost his part-time jobs. How come he never had thought about how he would cover his living expenses? Maybe he was just so sure that he would die, that it became irrelevant.
Fuchi wondered if his landlord would find his body and how much it would have deteriorated by then. Maybe there would be maggots all over and a sweetness in the air that clang to the underside of your tongue. Maybe they would find him just hours after he took his final breath. He couldn‘t decide what would be better.
He didn‘t really care. As long as they found him dead, it was none of his concern, was it?
With that he drifted off again.
He blinked confused. He had come to his senses again but was unsure why that was. He didn‘t feel like he had to drink something. And his bladder was also not unbearily full. So why did his mind come back to reality?
It took him some time to realise that it was probably by the sound at the door that he had been ripped out of his daze.
But something was different about the sound from outside. It was unlike the ones the people made when they vandalised his door or cramped threatening letters in his overflowing mailbox.
Was it his landlord? Fuchi wondered. In the next moment he heard the click of the door opening. Usually he would hide under his blanket, hoping that whatever just had destroyed his peace, would go away on its own, but he didn’t care enough to do that. The numbness made him just stare towards the sound, not moving.
The silhouette of a relatively small young man with ashblonde hair came into view. Tobi?
He squinted his eyes. Fuchi’s eyesight had always been bad, but since the incident it had just deteriorated even further. He still couldn‘t make out the expression Tobi was making, but at least he was sure now that it was him. At least he recognized an expression, unlike the balloons he had seen all his life until just recently.
Tobi.
The boy he had a crush on.
The boy he never wanted to see the state of his apartment.
But Fuchi felt too numb to feel embarrassed. He just stared, unmoving. Tobi stared back. Until he didn‘t.
„You are alive.“
It was a fact. No emotion in Tobi‘s voice. Just like always. Except that Fuchi had seen Tobi with another expression, had heard worry and fear in his voice - once. And maybe there was an emotion in Tobi‘s voice. Something that could be relief. But why would he feel relieved at that? He‘d be better off without such a burden as Fuchi.
Tobi looked around. The apartment was a mess. It was close to impossible to actually go from the door to the bed in which Fuchi lay because of all the trash on the floor. Based on the look of some of these things they lay there way longer than the past Christmas Eve.
Not only the floor looked horrible. Everything in here reeked of depression. And Fuchi looked like he might be dead. Tobi had thought so at first, when he saw the thin man laying on the bed with open, unmoving eyes. His cheeks even more hollow than usual, the dark bags under his eyes even darker and deeper. His lips were dry and flaky. At the sight of that, panic had welled up in Tobi. Only when he saw the taller man squint his exes ever so slightly, he sighed - releasing a breath that he didn‘t know he had been holding.
Slowly but surely he made his way to the bed where Fuchi lay in, careful not to step into who knows what. Fuchi was still, only his eyes followed him through the room.
As Tobi sat down on the edge of the bed, the other man groaned, as if the movement of the mattress gave him physical pain. Worry creeped into Tobi’s gaze again.
Fuchi was not sure why exactly that was. Why did the smaller man care about him?
“I couldn't get a hold of you. I thought…” Tobi started, stopped himself as if speaking it out loud could make it reality, “I'm just glad you are okay. Alive.”
At that Fuchi had to grin.
“Wouldn't call this okay. I'm a fucking mess. You should leave.”
It was unusual for Fuchi to be this blunt. Usually he would apologize profusely, feel ashamed and spiral down.
But there was no way he could sink further than he already had.
Oh, wait, he could lay in his own piss.
Good thing he didn't.
Nothing was so bad that it couldn't get worse. Maybe he was just not spiraling because he wasn't even sure if Tobi was really there or if he was still dreaming, mixing up dream and reality again.
He turned his back to Tobi, not wanting to deal with the whole situation. Yeah, he had a crush on Tobi, but what did it matter, when he was so numb that he didn't even feel that giddy feeling inside of him, when the sight of Tobi alone didn't even pull him out of his dark thoughts.
Fuchi was drowning, had been since Christmas Eve. Maybe even before that. And he wasn't so sure if someone, anyone, could actually pull him out of the dark and cold sea within him.
“I'm staying. I am not letting you go through this alone.” Tobi sounded resolute. And Fuchi hated it. Why couldn't he just let him be and leave him to die? To rot away in this godforsaken place.
Fuchi didn't answer. He closed his eyes, hoping Tobi would be gone when he opened them again.
Tobi didn't say a word. He just got up from the mattress. Fuchi hoped he would leave. Even though a small part of him wanted to make him stay. But that part was quickly suppressed by the sea of nothingness inside of him.
The smaller man made his way to the kitchen, searching for trashbacks. Fuchi decided to ignore him because he didn't have the energy to do anything else than that. At first it felt weird hearing someone inside the apartment doing something - whatever it was Tobi was actually doing. But soon Fuchi felt how his eyelids grew heavier. For the first time in some time he actually noticed how he fell asleep, how his consciousness slowly faded into dark nothingness as he listened to the movements of the other one.
Meanwhile Tobi had started to clean. He was sure that he had heard or read somewhere that a clean space could help people with depression. That a messy environment reminded them of everything they had to do and clean and that the pure existence of these tasks drained their energy. Unable to clean because of a lack of energy. A lack of energy because of the mess they lived in.
He started in the kitchen. He had figured it was best to give his friend some space. Fuchi always had trouble asking for help or speaking about his mental health problems. He rather apologized because he was so sure that he was a burden. Except he wasn't. Not for Tobi. He liked it when Fuchi was right beside him, yapping about everything and nothing. He never had seen him as a burden or broken. Fuchi was just someone who felt too much to the brink of feeling nothing at all. Someone who thought about every possible outcome but could only consider the worst. But were these actually so bad?
At least he felt something. And it was cute when the emotions he showed were good ones like when he blushed, or the slight smile that graced his lips whenever he was able to talk about a new hyperfixation.
And how could Tobi see him as a burden because of his overthinking when Fuchi was right? The world was a bad place. So most of the time the worst possibility was what actually happened.
They both had bad lifes and the things they had lived through were enough to fill 10 lifetimes. So if Fuchi was broken, Tobi was too. If Fuchi was a burden because of his overthinking and mass of feelings, would Tobi not be just as much of a burden with his often hasty decisions and a lack of emotions? Probably for some people. But Tobi didn't care about most other people.
He cared for Ryooku and Fuchi. And right now Fuchi needed him. Ryooku needed him too. And she was much more exhausting with her demands than Fuchi who never even dared to ask for anything. But even though Ryooku was exhausting, she wasn't a burden. Tobi just couldn't think about the two people that actually made him feel home as a burden.
So he cleaned. Good thing that Fuchi never really ate anything in the first place. The fridge was basically empty, except a half empty soja sauce bottle standing in the door. The trash on the floor was mostly paper. Letter after letter of threats and the sorts to the Shinjuku shooter. Seeing those made Tobi flinch.
He knew about the graffiti on the door, knew that there were hate groups on the internet that made it basically impossible for Fuchi to run from the incident. But Fuchi never had mentioned the letters. For some reasone the seamed even crueler than the messages and comments online. Even more personal than the letters on the door that called him a heartless killer.
And it was a bunch of these laying around. Crumbled, opened, unopened, torn apart, neetly folded as if Fuchi himself didn't really know what to do with them exactly. But Tobi did. He picked them all up and shoved them in one of the trash bags. He didn't need to read all of them, they repeated the same accusations over and over again.
It made him mad.
It was a burning sensation in his throat and on his tongue. As if he had eaten something spicy. And this burning hotness even found it's way down his throat into his belly as if he had swallowed hot coles. It took basically all of his self-restraint to not punsh a hole in the wall… or even better in one of these many letter-sending self righteous assholes.
Instead he busied himself with the rest of the kitchen. At some point he had to bring the trash outside because it made it hard to move around. Before leaving though, he went into Fuchi’s room. He was laying on the bed, not moving and for the second time that day Tobi feared that he might just be dead. His heart sank, the burning anger from before forgotten. Panic took its place and ran ice cold down his spine. It was a sharp taste that almost hurt, but also heightened his senses.
Only then he heard the sound of Fuchi's slow and steady breathing. The instant belief he felt almost made him dizzy. Has he ever cared for someone so much that the pure thought of them gone made him freeze? Just like on Christmas Eve as he had reached the beach, Fuchi nowhere to be seen. Tobi had frozen up, hesitated for just a second before jumping into the ice cold water - that still felt warmer than he felt inside. The pure thought of being too late, of only finding Fuchi's dead body, or worse, no body at all, had made him hesitate. Something he never did.
He sighed, as he made his way to the bed once more. Fuchi Sunao had awakened a bunch of new feelings in him. And even though most of them were sweet like candy and felt warm like hot chocolate in winter, there had also been feelings like the constant worry and the panic that left a taste in Tobi's mouth he absolutely hated.
He just stood before the bed, just watching, making sure Fuchi would actually breathe, was actually alive. Even through his blanket, it was evident that Fuchi had starved himself. And it made Tobi feel a pang in his heart. He wanted to reach out to him, to pull him towards himself and hug him tight. Maybe that could make his feelings finally clear to the tall man. But he didn't reach out. It was probably for the better if the insomniac slept for a while.
Instead he turned around, left the apartment with all of the trash bags he had filled. After that he swung by a convenience store before returning to the small apartment again. He tried to ignore the writings on the door as he let himself inside. Good thing he had the spare key. Although, he wouldn't have hesitated to kick in the door if he hadn't.
Fuchi seemed still asleep so Tobi started on cooking what he had bought at the store. If you could actually call that cooking, Tobi certainly wouldn't in normal circumstances.
He woke up because his mattress shifted beneath him. It took Fuchi a second before he actually realised why that was. Tobi had sat down again. So he didn't leave.
“Sit up. I made you something to eat.” Tobi's eyes had something shimmering in them, something that Fuchi had seen a few times by now, but only ever when his gaze was directed at him. What this glimmering thing was, he couldn't say though.
Well, the thought of eating wasn't something Fuchi liked. His stomach almost turned just by the thought of it. His face made a painful expression that made the other one laugh.
“Come on. I promise, I made it just like you like it.” With that Tobi held up a mug from which hot steam was evaporating. It smelled salty but not too pungent. Seeing as Tobi wasn't budging on this, Fuchi sat up with a groan, his body aching for a moment, just to be overwritten by the nothingness. He grabbed the mug and looked inside it. Tobi had made miso soup with nothing than just a few spring onions sprinkled on top. It was more a drink than a meal, but Fuchi appreciated that Tobi had thought of his … way of eating. Clear broth he could stomach.
And so he ate - or rather drank the soup. It wasn't scorching hot anymore which means that Tobi probably waited some time before actually bringing it to him. Had he hesitated or had he waited so Fuchi could start eating right away because waiting for it to cool down could sometimes be enough for him to not eat at all? Either way, the soup made him feel warm inside. A small light against all of the numb darkness.
His stomach churned and pain shot through him. Fuchi groaned. Now that his body got a little bit to eat, it made itself heard and felt. He had almost forgotten the gnawing pain of hunger. It felt awful. Fuchi turned even paler and he almost threw up from the sudden onset of pain. His jaw tensed up and he took shallow breaths.
The pain stopped as suddenly as it had started, leaving behind a weird feeling of pressure on his stomach. But Fuchi couldn't drink more of the soup in front of him now. Not without him possibly throwing up. He glanced up at Tobi who was still looking at him with his usual neutral, unmoving face. Only his eyes were soft and warm as he looked at him, no sign of disappointment because Fuchi didn't even drink half of the soup.
The ash blonde reached for the mug and gently took it out of Fuchi's hands before placing it on the nightstand right next to the bed. Tobi shifted his weight to sit closer to Fuchi and reached out again, but this time he stopped waiting if the other would flinch or back away. As he didn't, Toby gently petted his black hair.
“You did good.” The praise awakened yet another feeling inside of Fuchi. His heart leaped in his chest for a moment. It wasn't as intense as usual, but it was there. Tobi was slowly stripping away the numbness off of him. In a way, it was strangely intimate being cared for like that.
“Let me help you,” Tobi offered again and Fuchi was just about to refuse again as Tobi added, “Please.” It sounded desperate, pleading. His intestines twisted and he felt unable to dismiss Tobi again. So he looked away and nodded.
“Sorry,” Fuchi mumbled, but the other acted like he hadn't heard a thing.
He got up and offered Fuchi a hand that the taller one hesitantly took. Standing on his own two legs after such a long time was weird and they almost gave out under him which made him stumble into Tobi. Good thing the other one was so strong that he easily held Fuchi upright.
“Slowly,” he hummed and supported Fuchi, wrapping one arm around his waist. Tobi always had been a man of few words, and usually it was Fuchi who talked and talked to fill the silence. So it was weird that Tobi now said more while every word out of Fuchi felt like sandpaper rubbing on his vocal chords and his tongue. He just grunted in agreement as Tobi carefully led him to the bath.
The bathroom… Fuchi almost stopped in his tracks. When had he washed the last time? He must smell so bad. And Tobi was holding him so close. He definitely could smell the sweat and grime of days or weeks on him. Not to mention how bad his breath must stink, or how oily his hair must be. Hair that Tobi had touched not long ago. Hair that hung in matted strands from his scalp almost completely hiding his eyes.
Tobi sensed the hesitation and looked up at him. Of course he knew. He could obviously smell him. He must be disgusted by him.
As if he could hear Fuchi's thoughts, he pulled him even closer, strengthening the grip around the small waist of the other.
“You are okay,” he reassured the taller one as he started walking again. Closer and closer to the bathroom. If he didn't feel so numb he would probably panic. He didn't feel like he could shower now, even brushing his teeth felt impossible. But at least something of that sort had to be in Tobi's mind as he guided him to the bathroom. What else could be there? Maybe the toilet?
It was not like Fuchi didn't have those thoughts, they just made him feel more numb instead of panicked or embarrassed. He really was a mess. Not even possible to brush his teeth. Even toddlers were able to brush their own teeth.
At least the bath was clean - or at least not as messy as the rest of the apartment. Which was thanks to Fuchi not changing his clothes at all, so there were no old, dirty clothes on the floor, just on his body. Therefore, the small stool that usually held clothes that could be worn another day was empty. Tobi pulled it from its usual place to the middle of the room, gently placing Fuchi on it. He had no idea what Tobi's plan or intentions were, he just stared with a hollow gaze into nothing in particular.
“I'll be right back. Just wait here,” Tobi said before leaving the room. Fuchi could hear him rummaging in his bedroom before returning with fresh clothes.
It was a miracle how Tobi could just endure Fuchi's state without even looking at him in pity. Instead his always neutral, more to a resting bitch face leaning face only had a small tinge of softness and warmth. And even that would be missed by most people. Fuchi only spotted it because he knew Tobi's facial expressions by heart, and had studied them countless times by stealing glances at him in secret.
“I thought we could wash your hair and afterwards I could clean you with some soap and a wet cloth. Only if you feel up to it,” the other one explained and Fuchi was too exhausted to argue or refuse, so he just nodded along. “Good. You should undress first.” Tobi turned around, which was utterly pointless given that he soon would see him half naked anyway.
But Fuchi complied nonetheless. It was easy following orders, especially if they came from Tobi. What wasn't easy was getting his muscles to move to actually undress. The movements felt foreign and his muscles ached while trying to pull his sweater over his head. He groaned and the sound made Tobi turn towards him. There was something like understanding in his eyes and without asking he just stepped closer, helping Fuchi out of the dark sweater and after that the dark shirt beneath it. His hands were skilled, probably from dressing Ryooku all the time.
Fuchi just let it happen, even when Tobi helped him step out of his pyjama pants. He should feel embarrassed, being so helpless that he couldn't even undress, but everything was pointless at this point anyway. He usually didn't like his body. It always felt out of place, his limbs too long; stuck in that weird teenage phase where not all parts of the body grew at the same time. No, he didn't care how his long legs awkwardly tried to get out of the fabric. He also didn't care about the burns that he usually hid under his layers of cltothes. He looked down at Tobi as he diligently helped him get one leg after the other out of the pantlegs. His boxers stayed on even though they were just as filthy as the rest of his clothes. This whole situation felt unreal. As if this was happening to someone else's body and not Fuchi's. Like he was merely watching a scene of a movie play out.
Tobi led him to the edge of the bathtub, made him kneel down on a towel, and gently probed him to lean his head over the edge. Tobi's hands were moving as if he never did anything else, as if he had always helped Fuchi or at least someone wash their hair. He wetted the black strands before gently massaging the shampoo into the dark locks, loosening up the grime on Fuchi's scalp, making him relax his muscles. He sighed and closed his eyes while Tobi took his time.
When Tobi was satisfied with his application of the shampoo he washed it out, careful not to let soap drip into Fuchi's still closed eyes. He even shielded the taller one's ears from the harsh stream of warm water. And when everything was washed out, he put another towel around Fuchi's head just as gently.
After that he led the tall boy to the small stool again. Him sitting down on it looked a little funny, Fuchi's long limbs looking strangely out of place in comparison to the small thing. It made Tobi's heart ache, seeing him like that. It somehow made him look even more lost. He wanted to hug him, tell him that he was loved and that he shouldn't let his body deteriorate like this. But this wouldn't be the right thing right now. It wouldn‘t help, possibly even make it worse. That was not what Fuchi needed right now. So he just wordlessly prepped a damp cloth with warm water and soap.
“I will start now,” Tobi warned before gently rubbing the grime off of Fuchi's skin. Fuchi only flinched as the cloth was placed on his skin, after that he sat wordless through Tobi washing him down. Sweat and old skin cells were cleaned off of his body and it somehow felt lighter as if those actually added a significant amount of weight to his limbs.
The silence was like a cold balm on Fuchi's nerves and even though the numbness wasn't as easily washed away as his sweat, he could feel his body relax under Tobi's skilled hands. Even though Tobi cared for Ryooku, it was surprising that his hands, which usually were only used to fight, could be so gentle. Fuchi closed his eyes and sighed. All of this felt intimate in a very different way. He was vulnerable, laid open in front of Tobi. All his faults had bubbled on the surface and could be seen, but Toni didn't turn away. He didn't avert his eyes or take a step back.
Instead he just very gently scrubbed his arm off while holding it up with his free hand. If Fuchi had just an ounce more energy than a lethargic potato, he probably would have blushed. The deep red would have crept from the tips of his ears to his cheeks before covering even his pronounced colourbones in a beautiful pink. But his mind and body were too occupied staying seated and upright. His muscles ached as if he hadn‘t sat up in months or years. Even the lifting of his arm, that was actually more Tobi holding it up by his hand, was so exhausting that his arm started to tremble.
Of course, Tobi noticed the slight tremble right away. He sped up the process, but still made sure that the man in front of him would feel clean after the whole ordeal. Tobi had thought he had already seen Fuchi at his worst, had thought that the day he had dragged him out of the water onto the cold sand of the beach had been the worst, the bottom of the pit. Turns out a person could look even more dead while still alive than someone who just had stopped breathing. His eyes were without any light, looking into a far away distance that he himself couldn‘t grasp. Even his limbs felt cold and dead if there wasn‘t the slight tremble, reminding Tobi that Fuchi was still very alive although his soul had seemed to have left his body.
He wrapped him in towels, not having the strength to actually dry him off. Not when Fuchi‘s limbs felt like those of a dead person, loose and weirdly compliant. Dammit, Tobi had touched corpses that had felt more alive.
Not that he blamed Fuchi. He didn’t. He blamed himself for not noticing earlier how bad his mental health had become. And for not checking in earlier, for letting Fuchi become the equivalent of a corpse that couldn‘t quite die.
He hastily put new clothes on
„We are done.“ He looked down at Fuchi, something that didn‘t happen often with the guy being so extremely tall, especially for someone so very malnourished.
Fuchi didn‘t even look up. But Tobi could have sworn that he had heard at least some kind of positive response.
“That must have been exhausting… Would it be alright if I carried you to the bed?“ At least that gave him some kind of a reaction. Fuchi shook his head just to nod a second later. He probably realised that he really hadn‘t any strength left and that even those few steps would be too much for his already struggling body.
Tobi didn‘t hesitate and picked him up before he could decide otherwise and try to actually get up himself. With one arm at Fuchi‘s back and another under his knees, Tobi lifted him up bridal style. He was relieved when Fuchi showed at least some kind of tension in his body.
In his room, Tobi gently sat Fuchi down on the floor, leaning him against the nearby wall. Yeah, he had promised him he would bring him to his bed, but not while it was still like this.
With quick and skilled hands he changed the sheets. In less than a minute the bed that had looked and smelled just as dreadful as Fuchi had prior to the washing down, now looked like a warm and cozy nest. Fuchi wasn‘t even sure where Tobi had found all the pillows and blankets, that now were laying on his bed.
Not that he had much time to ponder about it because Tobi was now picking him up again, carrying him to his freshly made bed. This time Fuchi found the strength to wrap his arms around Tobi‘s neck, feeling the warmth of the other slowly melting away at the icecold numbness inside of him. Tobi had to basically peel the boy off of him as he tried to set him down on the bed again and he couldn‘t help but smile. He might not be clinging to his own life, but at least he was clinging to him, Tobi thought to himself.
„Let me just ge you under the covers,“ he said in a soft voice, trying to hold in a chuckle. The relief he felt in that moment, knowing that his Fuchi was still inside that shell of a body more dead than alive somewhere, was like a rush. It tasted like fresh mint, like ice-cold water in summer. It was paired with the sweetness of his adoration for the lanky man.
Fuchi just let him tuck him under one blanket, unsure why the other had this new expression on his face so suddenly. Maybe he was glad, that he could leave any moment now. But Tobi didn‘t leave. Instead he also slipped under Fuchi‘s blanket, pulling his thin body closer, wrapping himself around him, like he was holding that wrecked thing together with his own arms and legs.
For the first time since Christmas Eve, Fuchi felt his heart beat again. It was a loud thud in his chest, followed by another and another. Slow and sluggish in the beginning, still not as fast as it usually was beating in Tobi‘s presence, but it was there.
A tremble went through his body awakening something inside him, shaking up the numbness. Through the cracks, emotions were seeping out from it. And just like that tears were falling from his eyes, running down his cheeks. The numbness wasn‘t gone, the feelings that came through were muddy and confusing, not clearly one feeling but many mixed into each other. Sobs racked through him and Tobi only held him closer, letting his head rest on his chest, letting him cry, while gently drawing circles on his back.
He must have fallen asleep sometime during his crying, too exhausted to even notice his eyes falling shut. He wanted to move, but wasn‘t able to. Tobi was still holding him, he had tucked his head between his chest and his chin. His ears started to burn and he froze up.
“You are awake,“ Tobi noticed as he loosened his grip around the taller one.
„S-sorry… sorry… I -,“ Fuchi started to mutter, but Tobi shut him up quickly.
„Shhh, it‘s okay. Don‘t say sorry.“ He was playing with Fuchi‘s darl locks. „I‘m never leaving you alone again. Not like this. You will live with Ryooku and me from now on. And I am not taking a „No“ for an answer.“ He was resolute and Fuchi could only look at him with questions in his eyes. Tobi‘s face didn‘t move, but his eyes were shining with a warm smile. This all felt surreal. Maybe he actually died and was dreaming all of this up on his way to hell. He must be.
But then a sharp pain in his stomach followed by a loud rumble proved him wrong.
Tobi chuckled. „I‘ll warm up your miso soup.“