Merry Christmas, @neurtsy! Your prompt included angst, the characters’ support for each other, and the visual backgrounds of the show. So, of course, I attempted to squeeze all three into one piece, to varying amounts of success haha. Here’s hoping you like it~ (P.S. Apologies, I cheated with the backgrounds. I edited photographs to look artsy. I’m no good at drawing them from scratch I’m afraid.)
----@spyed10
Hi, @spyed10! I hope this fulfilled your hurt/comfort request, I decided to take it in a bit of a different direction! Happy Holidays! -From @silver-eyes-hair-ties
Nezumi was having a hard time getting used to the new No.6.
Not that he didn’t enjoy it. He rather liked the mishmash of eclectic buildings which ringed the Old Quarter, markers of the place where the wall once stood. Several beautification programs later, the brick and stone homes were painted with murals, inset with mosaics, and home to pastel birdhouses. This area was meant to represent the marriage of No.6 proper and the West Block; supposedly the two were more beautiful for having been joined, but Nezumi had his reservations, naturally.
The grocery bag on his arm was weighing him down considerably, and he hefted it to his other shoulder. Shion just had to have all of these canned things, he thought, but he soldiered on to Shion’s third-story apartment.
He made it to the door and jiggled his key in the lock--Shion was supposed to be in meetings about the placement of the new memorial park until late at night. Nezumi was used to their new, tentative routine: Nezumi took care of the shopping, oftentimes picking up around the house while Shion was away. He made dinner for when he was off at the theater and Shion came home from work, overworked and too exhausted to cook himself a meal, then set out for work himself.
He’d been back in No.6 for only a month, but the theater in the West Block was more than happy to have him back (and at a higher pay rate). Shion didn’t really ask him about his travels, but he figured he would open up in time. The small apartment wasn’t built for two, but Shion insisted that Nezumi take the futon, at least until he could apply for housing through the city, and Nezumi gladly took him up on his offer. And so they continued.
Nezumi toed off his boots at the doormat, but a pair of worn brown leather shoes were already placed haphazardly against the wall. Nezumi furrowed his brow and set the groceries on the counter.
He padded into the living room, assessing his surroundings. Maybe he’d taken his work home with him; it was unlikely that Shion would take a day off, and it wasn’t unusual for Nezumi to find him with files and folders splayed all over the coffee table. Shion, however, wasn’t at his usual workspace. It was then that Nezumi heard gasping breaths from the direction of the bedroom.
Oh no.
“Shion? Shion!!” Nezumi called, and he sped toward the sound of Shion’s distress. The first thing he saw was a mound underneath the blankets on the bed, with a barely concealed tuft of white hair peeking from the top. He rushed to the bed, grabbing hold of Shion’s shaking shoulders.
“What is it, what’s wrong?” he barked, then winced at the harshness of his own voice. His fear was too raw, too loud for the space.
Shion just pulled the blankets more tightly around himself and kept his back turned. Nezumi could hear the shaking breaths with their shallow inhales and forced exhales. He hissed helplessly through his teeth, then vaulted up over Shion, hands on either side of his covered head.
“Hey!” one hand gripped Shion’s shoulder, hard, and he felt the body below him flinch. Then, a pair of red-rimmed eyes peered up at him.
Nezumi immediately pulled his hand back, but stayed hovering above Shion, who quickly wrestled himself from the blankets. He grabbed Nezumi, pulling him down on top of him and burying his face in his neck. Nezumi felt telltale wetness soak his collar and immediately softened.
“Shion?” he asked again, and this time he received a sniffle in response. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Shion quickly shook his head, and Nezumi felt the tendrils constricting his heart and lungs loosen slightly. Shion’s death-grip around him was worrying, to say the least, but he could handle it if he knew there was no physical injury to tend to. He had no leverage in this position, and his arms were pinned to his sides by Shion’s hold.
“Could we, um… Maybe re-situate? I won’t go anywhere, I promise.” Nezumi whispered, nervous about breaking the near-silence when Shion’s breathing was beginning to slow. Shion’s vice-like grip retreated, and Nezumi nestled himself underneath the covers with him. He was surprised to find Shion’s dress shirt, pants, and tie still on. He held Shion’s trembling hands in his own, trying hard to meet his shifting eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Nezumi asked, and when Shion’s brows furrowed, he ran his thumbs over Shion’s hands.
Shion’s voice was a hoarse croak. “I’ve been doing better, Nezumi, I really have, but today I just--” his voice cracked and the floodgates flew open. “It could be anything, a noise or a smell or a phrase and all of a sudden I’m back there, in the Correctional Facility.” Shion bit down on his lip, hard. Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.
Nezumi waited for Shion to continue; things like this couldn’t be rushed, and he knew that as well as anyone. The feeling of sinking, of suffocating on something you thought you’d put behind you, was all too familiar. Nezumi had hoped Shion would never feel that way, but after all he’d been through it only made sense. No one escaped unscathed, not even Shion. He couldn’t protect him.
“It was the sound of the air in the vents. Something about it reminded me of that time, when I almost lost you and I panicked. I felt like I was there, and I was trying to keep you alive all over again.” Shion pulled Nezumi in close, grabbing at any part of Nezumi he could reach. Nezumi rubbed his back in slow circles, allowing the close contact.
“I’m here now, Shion. You can feel me, I’m safe and whole. And so are you.”
Despite Nezumi’s words he still had a crease between his brows. Nezumi leaned in closer, waiting for some kind of resistance, and when he found none he kissed the offending spot. Shion looked surprised at this gesture, but his cheeks reddened just the way Nezumi thought they would.
Predictable Shion, he mused, and he brushed his cheek with the back of his hand. He noted the contrast between Shion’s pale scar and the blush painting his cheeks with subdued interest. Now wasn’t the time to rekindle past flames, he chided himself.
“Here, give me your hand,” Nezumi murmured, then took Shion’s hand in his, pressing Shion’s open palm to his own chest. Shion looked at him quizzically.
“You can feel it, can’t you?”
“Of course… It’s pounding, Nezumi, are you alright?”
Nezumi didn’t expect Shion to be so perceptive; he tried in vain to will the flush from his face.
“I’m fine, Shion,” he muttered. He could feel Shion’s eyes boring into his face in the near-dark. “And I’m here. My heart is beating, and I’m not hurt. I’m not going anywhere.”
A stray tear slalomed between Shion’s nose and his cheek, and before Nezumi could get carried away and kiss it, he allowed his voice to flutter into the space between them.
“What helps, usually?”
Shion had stopped trembling, and now he was taking deep, purposeful breaths. “Just… Breathing? Sometimes a bath, if I’m not feeling too out of myself…”
Nezumi smiled reassuringly. “Want me to go get one ready?” He immediately noticed the set of Shion’s shoulders, the tightening of his mouth.
“Could you, um… Stay for a bit, actually?” he asked. His voice was small, weaker than Nezumi remembered ever hearing it. His arms circled Shion protectively, instinctively.
The change in Shion was instant. He melted into Nezumi, and his steady breaths puffed against Nezumi’s cheek. He tried to gain access to Shion’s skin to maybe soothe him further, but he huffed at the buttons and tie in his way. Nezumi deftly worked the offending necktie off, then began on the buttons of Shion’s dress shirt.
Nezumi could feel Shion’s gaze. “Just relax, your Majesty.” he cooed. He pressed his fingertips into Shion’s tense shoulders, and he tutted when he found them full of knots. “You don’t take very good care of your body, you know.”
Shion harrumphed. “I’m doing important work for the city, I can’t always afford to.”
“And what if you dropped dead from overwork?”
“Nezumi, that doesn’t happen--”
“But if you did? I’m sure you’d be rolling in your grave for all the work you still had ahead of you. You have the time, Shion, you can take care of the city and yourself, too.”
Nezumi had Shion’s shirt thrown on the floor and was beginning to slide the belt from his hips. Shion stayed his hands. “What?”
Shion’s look of befuddlement was endearing. “I’m, um, not exactly sure what you need my pants off for…”
Nezumi rolled his eyes. “If your Majesty permits it, I would like to tend to these poor muscles. Including your back and legs, which I’m sure you neglect to stretch sitting at your desk.”
Shion blinked up at Nezumi owlishly. “Oh, um… Sure.” He wriggled his hips and let Nezumi get him down to just his briefs. Nezumi rolled Shion onto his stomach so he could straddle his legs and stroke his lower back and sides. The muscles fluttered under his hands, and methodically he probed into knots and pockets of tension until they were all but dissolved. Some of the problem areas had Shion squirming, but soon the hard work was done and Nezumi paid particular attention to gently relaxing his shoulders and neck.
“Mm…” Shion sighed into the pillow under his head. Nezumi noted this with pride; he knew he had skill intuiting peoples’ bodies, but this talent was one he hadn’t had the time to practice.
“That’s much better,” Nezumi purred, and at last leaned back onto his knees. He waited for Shion’s replay, but none came. Just as he leaned forward to shake Shion’s shoulder, ask him if he was alright, he heard a distinct snore. He chuckled behind his hand.
“Silly little princeling…” he whispered, and laid a kiss indulgently at the nape of Shion’s neck, just below his hair and over top of his snakelike scar. Upon inspection of the bedside clock, he decided he had enough time to catch a quick nap before starting dinner, so he curled up on Shion’s side and let himself drift off.
spyed10 said: i think they mean nezumi is a fever hallucination. so his hand does literally go through nezumi’s.
Oh! Thanks for clarifying this for me I thought it was trying to say he was holding his hand but now I can see that Nezumi is a hallucination, I must have read it weirdly the first time :/
spyed10 replied to your post: spyed10 answered your post: Why is ani...
What I would give just for Shion to wear a sweater instead of the grandpa cardigan :B
Yeah...and black pants without crease. XD I don’t think they have an iron. I think he’d look good in jeans. ^^ Suit pants are okay when he’s working...But well, it’s also fitting. He’s always neatly dressed.
