The care and concern radiating from Rin and Shiemi was palpable, overwhelming almost. He turned his gaze to the food instead of their faces, chest tightening with an influx of emotion. Vulnerability wasn’t something he let show, if he could help it. In fact he was more inclined to consider it as something off-limits; he had to stay strong, stony-faced, or have his weakness exploited. It was like Rin and Shiemi were peering underneath a cracked mask, and though it was a breath of fresh air, it was also terrifying.
Tucking into his food, Yukio ate small bites, reluctant to bring back the nausea from earlier. He didn’t think it’d take much, and dealing with hunger and nausea at the same time was (while not unfamiliar) wholly unpleasant.
With a careful swallow, Yukio shook his head. No, the Illuminati had not fed him properly. Despite the white, white halls, they made no attempt to hide that the facility was run by demons, for demons, and so the mess hall had been–
“No, good food isn’t a priority of theirs,” Yukio said, shoving the thought out of his mind and finishing the rest of his portion in one gulp. As he’d thought, the nausea had come right back, so a distraction was his best bet.
“How have you been doing for food, nii-san?” Yukio asked. “I doubt Mephisto raised your allowance by much, if at all.” Ok, don’t think about him either. Control yourself.
Yukio picked up a cookie and nibbled on it instead, going silent and watching Rin and Shiemi interact. They both looked tired, he realised. Exhausted, even. He doubted the past few weeks had been easy on them, or maybe he was just paying attention for once.
“We should all get some rest after this,” Yukio murmured. He rotated his cookie around in his fingers, looking disinterested, then unfocused. It was hard to readjust his mindset again, that he wouldn’t be returning to cold linen that always smelt off, or that horrible mess hall, or golden eyes that always were smiling no matter what face he wore, as though he’d won, and Satan would taunt him, knowingly, that he had.
“Listen, the last of your cooking I tried was those sandwiches,” Rin whined, taking another bite. “Can you blame me for being a little nervous at first?” He felt like eating a whole omelet in five seconds and then passing out face-down on the kotatsu’s tabletop, but Rin showed an impressive amount of restraint. While he was eating quickly, it was still a relatively normal pace, and his eyes and sallow complexion were the only clues that he was exhausted.
He frowned when he noticed Yukio withdrawing in on himself again; Rin had clearly touched some kind of nerve, and he wasn’t sure what to say or do to make it better. “I’ve been too busy to cook for a while, so I might go overboard these first few weeks,” he said with a sheepish grin. Going along with Mephisto’s infuriating plots and searching for his brother had taken up all of his time, and even when he’d had the opportunity… Rin had found himself not wanting to. For a while, he’d been afraid that he’d lost the motivation forever— but now Yukio was back, and Rin was determined to feed him properly.
Rin gave a small hum of agreement, his tail curling slightly tighter around Yukio. He could fall asleep just about anywhere at this point, so long as he was near his brother; Rin didn’t want to let Yukio out of his sight for a while. “I could fall asleep right here, honestly…” The kotatsu was incredibly comfortable— so comfortable that it was starting to get difficult to keep his eyes open.
“You mean the sandwiches that saved everyone’s lives?” Shiemi quipped, mouth quirking into a smile. She honestly couldn’t fault Rin for being so cautious, even if it hurt her pride a little bit. Still, there was no use being offended by facts: she was not the best of cooks. She was quite happy they liked her omelette, too – there was no point wanting more. “We can’t all be as fantastic at cooking as you are.” She rested her cheek in her palm, elbow on the table, and smiled warmly at Rin for a moment before turning her attention over to Yukio.
Her smile waned a little bit, though not noticeably. From where she sat, he just looked exhausted to the point of depletion – and honestly, no wonder. If it weren’t for Rin needing him, Shiemi never would have let him get out of bed. With a small sigh, she took one of the mugs and the kettle, filling it with tea, and then pressed it gently into Yukio’s hands in an attempt to jostle him slightly out of his introspection before he fell into it too deep, whatever it was about. When his fingers were around the ceramic, her hands covered both of his for a moment, and she blinked at him, her gaze holding a secret smile that didn’t show on her lips, before pulling away.
“I put a little valeriana in it,” she said simply, knowing even exhausted, Yukio’s mind would connect the dots. It would help him sleep a little deeper, with fewer dreams. At this point, helping him get some actual good rest was the extent of what else she could do for him – but it would do wonders for healing, they both knew that.
It wouldn’t do much for Rin, of course, but listening to him, and seeing the way he blinked slowly, it seemed he wouldn’t really need it, either. Still, for good measure, and just so he wouldn’t be left out of her rounds of care, Shiemi poured Rin some tea as well, her expression turning thoughtful as she handed it to him. “That’s not a bad idea, actually… I was thinking you two would take my bed, but there’s even more space here, and more warmth – I can just bring the pillows over here.” Of course, the floor would be a little harder, but Shiemi thought the warmth would make up for it.
Ultimately, of course, the decision would be left to the boys. “What do you think? Do you want to?” Her gaze jumped from one twin to the other. “Yuki-chan?”
