05-Aug-2002 (actual writing started 21-March-2002)
Kaikan Phrase: Duet
by Yoiko and bonnejeanne
Contact: mightyyoiko@hotmail.com, bonnejeanne@yahoo.com
Pairings: Sakuya x Yuki
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers, Yaoi, Lemon to come
Notes: This RP based story has been ongoing in my LiveJournal for some months now. Have no idea where it's headed, or how long it will continue but I wanted to start putting some of it out because I like it. As an RP type thing, Yoiko is responsible for Yuki, and also for his father, Towa, and in the opening, Atsuro. I'm managed to stick mainly with Sakuya, and a brief appearance by Santa.
Note to Alma: If the prolog looks familiar, it is. This is the second part of that KP RR you tried to get started on the list, which never went further than part 2, so I wiped that part 2 off and reused it. Hope you've no objections! ^^;;
Prolog
Sakuya stepped from the shower, toweling himself superficially and dropping the cloth on the floor. He wandered over to the window and looked out, searching the city below with restless eyes. No sleep tonight... he could tell already. It didn't matter what pills he took, how much he tried to wear himself out with exercise... if he tried to lay down, he'd be turning and watching the ceiling all night.
*She* was busy - some function she had to attend with her husband. And Sakuya realized he didn't really care. She was something to do, but if she didn't pursue him, he'd never have sought her out. Why were people always pursuing him? Like those guys... chasing him to be in the band, always seeming to want more from him that just his voice and occasional attendance at a rehearsal. Leaning his forehead against the window glass he smiled cynically. Whatever they wanted, it had very little to do with *him*. They were projecting something onto him. Something they were looking for. People did that. They saw what they wanted and tried to make you be that. He had no illusions that he possessed some real greatness. His voice was fine, and singing was the one thing that made him feel really good - so he did it well. But the glamour people seemed to associate - that was just the shadows of desire. Sooner or later they'd see those shadows somewhere else and he'd be on his own again. It was easier to walk away first.
Pulling on clothes, he grabbed his keys and helmet and headed downstairs. The new song was playing in his head - the one he'd implied to the others that he hadn't learned yet. That was ridiculous - he'd already shown that he could memorize a song by listening to it a few times. But they let him get away with it. They let him stall and get away with doing less. He wondered how long it would last. Whether it would be Santa who'd snap and kick him out... or maybe Yuki. The dark-haired guitarist seemed to be the most mature of the group, but he had an edge of his own, one he'd shown to Sakuya already. Why the hell someone who had as much going for him as Yuki did was acting so seriously about this band thing... the others he could understand. It was obvious that the band - this one or the next - was Santa's life. Towa was just as clearly a career musician. Atsuro might crack and go back to a more promising life, but for him the glamour and excitement, and the energy, were enough to fill his attention right now.
Yuki was the one he didn't get. He had an incredible discipline, and an easygoing manner, but there was something under the surface that puzzled Sakuya. Notching the speed up on the motorbike as he took a curve, the blue-eyed singer smiled cynically. Yuki had the aura of real quality... yet he seemed to be as sucked in by the shadows of his desire as the others. You've no idea what you are, or what it's worth, do you? Sakuya told the image of Yuki in his mind.
But wanting things... that only caused pain. Forget it. Forget Yuki and his dreams, the band and its energy... stick to what was pleasant and numbing and...
Safe.
With a savage grimace, Sakuya throttled up another notch, and seconds too late saw the patch of water on the road shining like glass, as his tire hit it and started to skid...
Part One
"Yukifumi!"
"Sir?" Yuki asked, guiltily putting his guitar aside and standing as his father opened the door to his room.
"There's a phone call for you." Yuki paused; his father resented the fact that Yuki had friends, and a life, outside of Noh. The frown currently creasing his father's brow was enough to make Yuki wince internally. Todo-san handed the phone over, but remained where he was, glowering as Yuki put the receiver to his ear.
"Moshi moshi?"
"Todo Yukifumi?"
"Speaking."
"Yafuso Keiko, sir, from the hospital. I'm afraid I have some bad news..."
"So how come they called *you*?" Atsuro asked, jogging slightly to keep up with Yuki's long-legged pace. "I mean... you know."
"I don't know," Yuki lied. He did know. He knew enough of Sakuya to know that the enigmatic singer didn't have any family or friends to speak of. He had always envied Sakuya that freedom...
"How bad an accident was it?"
"I don't know."
"Did they say how bad his injuries are?"
"Atsuro."
"Yeah?"
"I don't know."
"Sorry..."
Yuki shrugged the apology away and pushed open the door to the hospital room. There were four beds; of them, only one had the curtains drawn all the way around it for privacy.
"Three guesses where he is, and the first two don't count," Atsuro murmured. Yuki shot him a glance, then moved to the edge of the privacy curtain.
"Sakuya?"
The long-limbed figure on the hospital bed looked incredibly out of his element, the sterile setting emphasizing every bruise, cut and scrape, mostly along the young man's right side, the blanket held up by a tent-like frame over his right leg. One blue eye had a blossom of red along the cornea. It was only the other eye, unmarred and as piercingly direct as ever that settled the identity of the patient.
Sakuya's look met Yuki's eyes for a long direct moment, then glanced at Atsuro almost dismissingly before his head turned away.
"Thanks for coming," he said to the curtain on the other side. "There's no point in staying. Tell the woman at the nurse's station you were here so she doesn't call anyone else."
His lip curled ever so slightly. "I don't think I'll be at practice for a while."
"Luckily, this will give you plenty of time to learn Towa's song," Yuki replied with a slight smile, pulling out a pocket-sized recorder and headphones. He'd been expecting a cool reception.
"Let me open this for you," Atsuro said, sliding the privacy curtain aside and then smiling nervously as sharp blue eyes glared at him. "Um, I mean, I was thinking it must be boring for you, not to even be able to see the TV, and, uh..."
"Atsuro, why don't you call the others and let them know how Sakuya is doing?" Yuki suggested gently, and all but breathed a sigh in relief as the redhead left with another nervous little smile.
"I assume you wanted it closed?" he asked quietly, tugging the curtain back into place.
The singer made no move to take the music player and headphones from Yuki. Once the curtain was closed again he simply looked past Yuki's shoulder.
"Unrealistic as ever," he said coldly. "Since you bothered to come, get a good look. I won't be able to perform for a long time. You'd better get another singer. He can learn Towa's song. I don't plan to listen to Santa or any of you whine that an invalid front man is holding you back."
Settling back against the pillows, Sakuya leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a silent and clear message that he wanted to be left alone.
The guitar player was hardly given a chance to react as the curtain was pulled aside by someone entering the area. Young and clean-cut, the man with a pair of dark-rimmed glasses perched on his nose was obviously a doctor, and was carrying a clipboard with charts. He nodded pleasantly to Yuki but his attention was on the patient. He met Sakuya's icy stare without difficulty.
"Your films are back," he said shaking his head. "Five fractures, the knee is pretty messed up. We'll have to do some surgery now and maybe again in six to eight weeks. You'll need help to get around for a while. I'll have nurse call your parents..."
"She'll need a telephone that reaches hell," Sakuya snapped, rather further past the breaking point than Yuki had ever seen him.
The doctor blinked mildly behind his glasses, only slightly taken aback. "Hm? Well we can take care of that later. I've scheduled your surgery for four a.m. Depending on how it goes, you can have someone pick you up in three days."
"That would be me," Yuki said firmly.
Yuki could almost feel an electric *snap* as Sakuya turned his attention to the guitar player. Their eyes locked for a long moment.
Without taking any apparent notice, the doctor nodded and said, "Fine, fine, leave your number with the nurse - oh, she has it, doesn't she?" And without explaining how he obviously knew who Yuki was, he nodded pleasantly to his patient and left the cubical.
Only after the doctor was gone and the silence once again descended did Sakuya turn his eyes away, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his head back against the pillow with a barely audible, "Hn." His dilemma was simple. He wanted to tell Yuki to go to hell, but as the guitar player had guessed, there was no one else. Fine. So Yuki could give him a ride home. That would let him feel he'd done something for the invalid singer, he could feel all warm and proud of himself. It was a sour thought but it kept him from thinking about other things, like what he would do then. 'Need help to get around'... Having spent rather too much time in the hospital environment in his childhood, he already had an idea of what that meant.
His eyes drifted back to the guitar player with somewhat less than the previous intensity. The effects of the morphine the nurse had put in his IV before leaving were starting to fuzz the edges of his perception. "Why do you bother?" he asked almost idly.
A smile tugged at the corners of Yuki's mouth, but was firmly repressed. "Because I'm unrealistic, remember? Luckily for both of us, I'm not unrealistic enough to expect anything less than a bad attitude from you."
The only thing that worried him, aside from the responsibility of helping Sakuya when he didn't *want* help, was... how was he going to tell his father he'd be moving in with a friend for a while? It was either that, or announce that he'd be bringing Sakuya home with him, and somehow he suspected that wouldn't go over too well.
/I'll just have to figure something out,/ Yuki told himself firmly. /I'm not going to abandon him./
Yuki's quiet humor earned him a neutral look from the singer. After a moment he said, "Good. Then I suppose you won't be disappointed." As the edges of pain began to blur, exhaustion was starting to exert itself. "I'll see you after three days then. Don't leave the player. I'll donate it to the hospital if you do. Don't come until then either. I'd prefer to keep my debt manageable."
Closing his eyes, Sakuya turned his head a little into the pillow, suddenly looking a lot younger, if every bit as beautiful, even with the bruises and scrapes.
"There's no charge," Yuki said softly, but Sakuya was beyond hearing. With a soft sigh the guitarist left, quietly sliding the curtain into place behind him, and hurried to intercept Atsuro before the redhead could return to Sakuya's bedside.
The tape player remained on the small table by Sakuya's bed.
"Yukifumi, I cannot allow it," Mr. Todo said. "You are far too young for such responsibility..."
"But I'm the only friend he has," Yuki said, bowing deferentially. "I can not abandon him in need..."
"Duty to a friend is admirable," the elder Todo said, and Yuki almost--almost--relaxed. "But what about your duty to your family?"
"I'll still be here for Noh practice, every day," Yuki promised, keeping his regret carefully hidden.
"Very well, Yukifumi," his father said, and Yuki bit his tongue to keep from voicing his surprise. "But if this interferes in any way with your performance..."
"It won't. Thank you, Father." Yuki bowed low, and hurried to his room before his father could change his mind.
/Well. I've convinced Father; that was the easy part. The hard part will be explaining this to Sakuya.../
The next day, Yuki returned to the hospital, this time on his own but not empty-handed. Yuka had prepared a care package of rice balls, and the other band members had signed a get-well card. It had been all Yuki could do to convince them that Sakuya really wasn't well enough for many visitors.
"I said I do not want it. Either get the doctor to change to pills, or I will take the thing out of my arm myself..."
The cold bite in Sakuya's voice would have made any listener wince, and be glad they were not the one to whom it was directed. The nurse made a few assertive noises in return but retreated as quickly as she could manage and keep at least some face. Her eyes fell on Yuki as she cleared the curtain. "Can't you tell him to cooperate?" she snapped, assuming he was some kind of relation. Without waiting for an answer she huffed off.
Hearing her remark, Sakuya was looking over as Yuki entered the area with his small burdens. Apparently having gotten some rest at least, the singer's expression remained noncommittal. "How did I know you would come back, even when I asked you not to."
"I assume because you know I'm the unrealistic sort," Yuki said, lips curving in the barest hint of a smile. "You're lucky it's just me; all the others wanted to visit as well." Without waiting for Sakuya to express any kind of interest (unrealistic or not, he wasn't *stupid*), Yuki deposited the care package and card onto Sakuya's bedside table.
Sakuya glanced at the items, then at Yuki and shook his head, looking away. He did look better than the night before - it wouldn't have taken much to improve on that score. The scrapes and bruises were still hideous, but he'd bullied someone into providing him with a plain white sleeveless undershirt and a pair of boxers instead of the hospital gown. The bedcovers were no longer tented over his right leg, which was now encased in a rather high-tech looking cast.
The player Yuki had left was no where to be seen. There was a hardcover book on the bedside table, placed facedown open in a position guaranteed to crack the spine. It was a copy of Robinson Crusoe in English.
"Fine, you've made your duty call. Arigotou gozai-masu," Sakuya said, sounding bored.
"You're very welcome," Yuki replied, smoothly pulling up the single rickety chair the cubicle boasted and seating himself. "But you're not getting rid of me that easily. From the looks of it you're about halfway through Robinson Crusoe already. It's a shame my tape player seems to have disappeared, so I can't bring you music to listen to--but are there any other books you'd like to read?"
"Your tape player is in the drawer," the singer answered. "Take it home when you leave." He wasn't going to sit here listening to music like she had done, not even for two days. "There's a nurse who will get me another book when I finish this. It's romantic trash. I don't feel like entertaining you."
His voice wasn't biting, just falling back into the neutral tone he seemed to maintain whenever he wasn't actually singing. He wondered idly if Yuki wasn't missing Noh practice, but thought it unlikely. Unrealistic, perhaps, but not undisciplined.
"You need another hobby," he commented.
Yuki stifled the urge to grimace. "I have all the hobby I can handle right now," he said.
There was a rather long pause, and then Yuki stood and boldly placed one hand on Sakuya's shoulder--just about the only unbruised patch of skin on the singer's body. For a moment, it seemed that the million things he might say to Sakuya all crowded into his mind at once, but he settled for keeping it simple. "I'll be back," he said, and left.
When Yuki returned, it was with a bag full of books, including one full of crossword puzzles, and a bright yellow bookmark. "I thought you might find some use for these," he said. "If you don't want to read them, you can always turn them over to the hospital." With a slightly wry smile, he set the bag onto Sakuya's bedside table.
[The bookmark reads, "I'M NOT DEAF! - I'm just ignoring you." ^_~]
Sakuya yawned and Yuki realized that he'd probably woken the singer. He blinked at the bag and then looked at Yuki. His blue eyes focused on Yuki and stayed on him a little longer that he expected. Sakuya had fallen asleep thinking about the brief touch on his shoulder with some puzzlement.
"You take it too far," he murmured, but his expression was almost resigned. "Sit down. What's on your mind?"
"Sorry," Yuki murmured, sinking into the chair and focusing his gaze on his hands, folded neatly in his lap. "I didn't mean to wake you. But I did want to tell you... well, when they release you, I'll be taking you home. And I'll stay with you until the doctor says you don't need help any more, and I won't hear a word of argument." Slowly, he raised his gaze to meet Sakuya's, wondering just how bad the reaction to that statement was going to be.
Sakuya met Yuki's eyes but was silent. The silence stretched out. The sounds of people moving, talking, hospital equipment beeping punctuated it.
The singer's expression gave no clue whatsoever to what he was thinking.
After a good three or four minutes - an eternity - he finally spoke.
"I don't understand you," he said. "I suppose you know I don't have any other options, and that's why you're doing this? Misplaced pity or some kind of sacrificial impulse? Fine. I'm going to tell you this once: when you've had enough, don't tell me about it, just leave. Not a word."
Yuki sighed quietly, and the tension ebbed from his shoulders and his clenched hands. That was as close to acceptance as he was going to get from the prickly singer; he knew that much. "I'm doing it because I choose to. And I'd be willing to bet that *you'll* run out of patience long before I do." After all, outside of daily Noh practices, he'd be *free!* He felt just the tiniest bit guilty that his motives weren't entirely selfless, but then again, he doubted that Sakuya would have had anything to say to *him*, if their situations had been reversed.
"I doubt it," Sakuya replied, something dark flickering behind his blue eyes for a moment before his features resumed his more usual bored expression.
Reaching into the book bag, he pulled a volume out at random. "If you need to bring something over, get my keys from the nurse. Don't come back up until they call you. There's an old pair of jeans in the trunk at the foot of the bed. Bring those with you. Thank you and good night."
"Of course," Yuki said, then added, rather boldly for him, "I didn't expect that you'd want to wheel out of the hospital in nothing but your shorts. Probably not the kind of publicity we want, if we're going to be respected for our music and not just our looks." He was smiling as he left.
Only when Yuki's back was turned and the curtain fell behind him did Sakuya crack a half smile. Then he snorted and shook his head before opening the book in his lap.
Yuki would remember the shorts remark when Sakuya somehow acquired a large pair of scissors from a nurse and cut both legs off the jeans, dumping the discarded material in the waste basket. A rather pretty nurse helped him dress. It seemed the nursing staff after three days were about evenly divided. Half of them hated or were afraid of the blue-eyed patient and half of them were in love with him. He seemed to have an unerring knack for figuring out which ones he could subvert to give him his way with the faintest of encouragement and a little mild flirtation. The rest he didn't bother to be civil to.
The unread books he gave away. The player was returned to Yuki. Of the clothes he'd been wearing when he was admitted, only the jacket survived and it was somewhat the worse for wear, if cleaned. Over the white undershirt and the cut-off shorts, it made as much of a concession to decency as he ever usually did. Unless one took a close look at the right side of the shorts and noticed the slit he'd had to make to get them over the cast easily.
The head nurse handed his meds to Yuki. "Make sure he takes them," the formidable matron growled. "We don't want him back before his scheduled appointment." From the mixed cries of protest and agreement it was evident there would be no unanimity on the subject.
Sakuya simply smiled, the very irritating expression he affected on occasion, which nevertheless cause a couple of sighs to break forth from some of the watching nurses.
Abandoning the wheelchair for crutches the moment they were past the hospital doors, he maneuvered his way into the car and then stared out the window. Behind his impassive features, he was concealing a feeling of extreme relief at being out of that institution.
Sakuya's apartment was almost completely barren; Yuki had cleaned up the black goo that was all that remained of the pot of coffee Sakuya hadn't drunk, and now the kitchen was spotless. There had been a few eggs in the refrigerator, and a stale, half-eaten loaf of bread, but luckily Yuka had agreed to do the grocery shopping for him while he headed to the hospital. It would have been impossible to fit it all in with Noh practice, and the only other choice would have been to have Santa or one of the others pick Sakuya up, and that... simply would not do. Sakuya at least deserved a chance to recuperate before having Santa inflicted on him!
"I'll have to leave for a few hours this evening," Yuki said quietly, wondering how he was going to get Sakuya up the stairs and settled in his apartment, hopefully without offending his prickly dignity. "Towa will stay with you while I'm gone; he promised not to bring anyone else and he'll try not to annoy you unduly."
Sakuya favored him with a sharp look - the harshest one so far. He said nothing as he pulled the crutches from the back seat and got himself out of the car. He was feeling a combination of anger and embarrassment, but he hated the feeling and shoved it down under his habit of forced detachment. The silence was icy.
Not going straight for the steps, he detoured slightly. A police wrecker had brought the remains of his bike and left it. He stood over it for a few minutes, leaning on the crutches as he took inventory - it was a long one - and prepared himself for the stairs. Under the self-imposed ice he was furious with Yuki. Not for having to go out, but for making arrangements around it. He wasn't a child. He did not need a sitter. Realizing this sort of thing was inevitable, he was giving serious thought to how he was going to throw the guitar player out the minute he proved to himself he could do without him.
"It could have been worse," Yuki added, just as quietly, hovering anxiously behind Sakuya and trying not to *look* as though he was hovering; the impulse to reach out and help steady the singer was almost irresistible. "Santa wanted to bring everyone over for a get-well party. I thought... Towa would be less... objectionable."
He sighed, gazing at Sakuya's stiff back. So he'd offended his prickly dignity, after all. Well, it couldn't really be helped...
"Do you need help getting up the stairs?" he asked.
"The least objectionable would be no one," Sakuya said evenly. He hadn't spent much time in the last couple of days figuring out any kind of plan for the upcoming.. weeks? Making plans was not something he bothered with most of the time. He was starting to get the idea that some planning was going to have to take place to keep his life from being assimilated by "helpful" others.
Without answering Yuki's question, he headed for the bottom of the stairs. Once at the foot of them he looked up, did some mental calculating, and balanced on his good leg, using one hand on the rail. He handed the crutches to Yuki, or rather passed them into his general direction, then placed a hand on each rail, realizing he had a bit of luck in that the stairs were fairly narrow. And that he'd kept his body in excellent condition.
It wasn't a speedy process but he managed his way up the stairs by using his arms, the rails, and his good leg. By the time he got to the top he was soaked with perspiration.
Exasperated, Yuki grabbed Sakuya's hand and pulled until the singer's arm was slung over his shoulders, and, careful not to jar his injuries, wrapped his free arm around Sakuya's lean waist and half-carried him to the door. "To have no-one might be your preference," he said, voice slightly strained with effort. "But until you're well enough to physically throw me out, you're going to have to put up with it."
After all, at some point *somebody* had to be the adult.
To Yuki's probable surprise, Sakuya did not bite his head off, nor slug him. His eyes did widen as he found himself grabbed and hauled along. He watched Yuki fumble for the apartment keys without comment. But his lips curved ever so slightly.
So the "patient" Yuki was already reaching breaking points. Interesting. A couple of rather evil thoughts flickered through the singer's mind. "Don't leave the crutches in the hall," he said mildly. His body was more relaxed than it should have been as he allowed the guitar player to help him inside. If the other band members and Yuka jumped out and yelled surprise, he might be tempted to kill someone, but barring that, his ever-unfathomable mood seemed to be turning in a new direction.
Luckily, the apartment was as bare and quiet as always, although from the smell of it, Yuka had cooked dinner for them before leaving. "I know better than to try to keep the crutches from you," Yuki said, smiling as he helped Sakuya to the bed. "Are you hungry?"
Pulling off the jacket first, Sakuya dropped it on the foot of the bed. He also noticed the aroma of home cooking, something the apartment had rarely contained.
"Hn," he grunted noncommittally, then relented. It would give the guitar player a way to get through a few awkward moments, why not? "Fine." Of course it wouldn't help with the awkward moments afterwards, which Sakuya was starting to look forward to. He'd been bored beyond belief for three days in the hospital. He was starting to figure out there might be an upside to this arrangement.
Of course his leg hurt like a sonofabitch. And he really wanted a shower, but that presented its own difficulties. As he waited for Yuki to fill bowls in the tiny kitchen, he looked around to see what provisions his new guest had made for himself.
It appeared that Yuki hadn't spent much time worrying about his own comfort; there was a sleeping-bag and pillow in one corner, and a small pile of clothing. There were a few additions to the apartment, though, that had clearly been meant for Sakuya, from the extra pillows on the bed to the plastic stool and chair in the bathtub. It would be an easy enough affair for Sakuya to bathe in relative comfort, with the help of the long-hosed shower head. There was also a new stack of books in easy reach.
"It smells good," Yuki said, coming out of the kitchen with a tray bearing food and Sakuya's medication. "I'll have to remember to thank Yuka later on." After checking to be sure Sakuya was situated comfortably enough, Yuki handed the tray over and went back for his own dinner. Since there really wasn't any place else to sit outside of the kitchen, he seated himself on the floor near Sakuya's bed and prepared to eat.
Using some of the new pillows behind his back, Sakuya sat with his cast on the bed and his left leg bent at the knee, balancing the bowl. He ate about two thirds of what was there quickly and neatly and set the bowl aside. Looking at the pills, he picked up the antibiotic and tossed it down. The pain pill he left, looking at it and spinning it around on the tray with one idle finger.
He turned his attention to Yuki, sitting with his back against the bed. Having made a note of the sleeping bag and pillow, he started the conversation with a question. "Where is your guitar?"
"I left it at the house," Yuki answered, turning to face Sakuya. One eyebrow raised as he glanced at the singer's tray. "You know, you have to take the pill before it'll do you any good."
Sakuya gave the pill another spin with his finger. His lip curled slightly. "They always want to addict you to painkillers, then they shake their heads over the results," he said without further explanation. "I have some aspirin in the bathroom." Leaning back and putting his arms behind his head, he studied the ceiling. "When are you leaving for practice? Get your guitar and bring it back with you. If you fall off, I'm sure Santa would be happy to blame me."
"Take it," Yuki suggested gently. "At least for a few days. If you look like you're becoming addicted, I'll flush them down the toilet."
Sakuya studied Yuki, a little surprised at his persistence. After a moment, he reached down and picked up the pill and swallowed it, his eyes on the guitar player's during the whole process.
Yuki paused, caught by the intensity of that piercing blue gaze, and for some reason he felt his cheeks heating up in a blush. Luckily for him, there was a knock at the door, and it broke the tension of the moment.
"One moment!" Yuki called, and hurried to answer the door.
"Good evening," Towa said calmly.
"Ah! Towa! Is it that time already?"
"Actually, I'm sorry to be late," Towa said. "The bus was running a little slow today." Yuki gasped, and glanced at his watch.
"Sorry! I have to go! Sorry!" he cried, and ran out the door. Towa stood in surprise for a moment, listening to the sound of the guitarist's footsteps racing downstairs, then he slowly closed the door behind him and walked towards the bed.
/Not even a full day, and already Yuki's rattled,/ he mused.
"How are you?" Towa asked aloud.
Sakuya leaned back against the pillows with a slight smile. "I feel like shit. I've been fed and medicated. There might be something left from dinner in the kitchen - help yourself."
Picking up one of the crutches which Yuki had left next to the bed, he used the tip to reach the answering machine and push the button. After the beeps, a series of messages played back. Out of ten messages, eight of them were in the same woman's voice, over the last three days, each one sounding a bit more impatient, demanding, irritated, and finally angry than the last.
Wordlessly, Towa picked up the dinner dishes and took them to the kitchen to wash them. He'd suspected that Sakuya would be... a less-than-cheerful patient. He did hope that the man would at least demand help if he needed it.
Once the dishes were washed, Towa returned to the main room, seated himself on the floor, and pulled out a magazine to read. "Let me know if there's anything you need," he said quietly. "Otherwise, I'll just pretend to be invisible."
/Wonder who that woman is,/ he mused. /Hope Yuki comes back soon.../
TBC