La Douleur Exquise - Ch. 9
Leijiverse Brothel AU; Chapter 9 - The Case of Beige
I’ve been on a bit of a break from Leijiverse writing, but here’s a Christmas present for @not-actually-harry-potter who is very sweet and deserves many things, including a chapter about anger Daiba.
There are too many Zeros in the Leijiverse, and I should stop pulling such obscure characters.
~5600 words
Captain needed a new rule - all clients needed to strip before all the sex stuff. The assholes kept trying to sneak stuff in under their clothes. Next time one of the guys tried to tell me they had nice clients and that not all clients were human-shaped dumpsters, I would remind them of the client who was stupid enough to not only rough-up Mamoru but also to stab me with a tiny pocket knife.
He should have brought a bigger knife if he wanted to do any real damage. I guess a bigger one wouldn’t have fit in his boot, but the small one fit into my side with all the force of a bug bite. His grip made for an easy target. Grabbing his wrist with one hand, I slammed the heel of the other into the back of his elbow. The resounding crunch of his bones sent him into a screaming fit. I didn’t even have to kick him down. He dropped to the floor on his own, cradling his arm.
Left his stupid, tiny knife in my side though, asshole. As soon as I yanked it out, blood spread out along my sleep shirt in a heated pool. “This had better wash out,” I growled as I tugged my wristband off and slapped it on the client’s arm instead. The band lit up in a bright flash of blue, turning the bastard turned into a twitchy mess. Captain made me use weird shit to put down clients. Beating them bloody would have worked just fine, but he insisted on tasing or drugs to knock them out. That just wasn’t satisfying enough. The bastards deserved a few good breaks and bruises.
But whatever. Captain’s orders.
With the client glitching out like a busted hologram on the floor, I stepped over him and up to Mamoru. The Kodais never had trouble when they were together, but being alone left them open to danger, and Mamoru worked to blink away a daze. Blood dripped from his lips. Judging by the way his cheek was starting to bruise, his teeth had cut into the inside. “Come on,” I said, taking him by the arm to lead him to his feet. “Let’s get you away from this bastard. I’ll get Captain to take care of him.”
Mamoru stumbled like the carpet was sliding out from under his feet. His hands landed on my shoulders for stability. “Can’t believe he hit my face,” he said as I dragged him toward the door. “I need that.”
“Next time you decide to take a dick of a client, tell him to hit you in the brain since you sure don’t need that.”
He whined like an abused dog, but judging by his cutesy pout, he was just fishing for sympathy. “Daiba, be nice to me. I just got beat up.”
“Yeah-yeah.” As I snapped the door shut, the wound in my side seemed to sink its fangs in deeper. I couldn’t hold back a wince.
Mamoru must not have been that dazed because he noticed. “What’s wrong?” But even before the question was all the way out of his mouth, his eyes found the blood that had crept its way toward the buttons of my shirt. The grip on my shoulder became a vise, spinning me to face him. “Is that your blood? Daiba!?”
“It’s fine,” I said with a shrug. When the panic didn’t leave his eyes, I held up the knife, still coated in my blood. “It’s such a small knife. It couldn’t do much.”
Fear iced over his expression, and though he opened his mouth, nothing came out at first. The claws in my shoulder dragged me toward the second flight of stairs. When he did speak, his voice was so thin that it sounded lost in a breeze. “We’re taking you to the infirmary.”
“We need to tell Captain about the client.”
“I will tell him! But we need for you to stop bleeding. Shit, Daiba, you got stabbed!”
“It’s whatever.”
Mamoru started chewing my ear off like he wasn’t the one who’d gotten his ass kicked in the first place. I was a bodyguard. Getting in fights and taking hits was my job, but all the guys yelled at me when I did what I was supposed to. Even before I started work at the brothel, it was like that.
They shouldn’t have cared. No one should have. Where I came from, useless street kids were as plentiful as the rats and heaps of trash littering the planet. All I did there was fight, and no one cared. Well, the guys whose asses I kicked might have cared, but I sure as hell didn’t.
I didn’t pay enough attention to remember which gang was which. They all flaunted dumb names like “White Tigers” or “Poison Fang,” but they were all the same. A bunch of weak dogs roaming in packs to look tougher. I let them be as long as they didn’t bother me. The burned husk of an apartment on Fifth Street was mine, and they knew that. As long as they kept away, I didn’t care enough to fight them.
Their heads were too damn big, though. Bastards always picked a fight when I went out into the streets. The worst bunch was some group named after a shark or fish or whatever. I got to know them too well for my liking. Because of that, I recognized the sounds of their voices in time to stop me from turning down one of my usual haunts.
“You’re clearly not from around here,” the one with the tattooed face said. “So I guess you don’t know the rules.”
“Yeah, just give us your stuff,” chimed in another voice I matched to a scrawny guy in my memories who’d been egging the rest on in our last brawl. That bastard was going to hurt. He’d been the one to throw in the pipe that busted my leg. The all-too-familiar sound of the hollow metal ringing and scraping along the concrete echoed out from the alley.
The third voice sent my blood boiling. “We don’t need any violence,” he said, the same one who’d swung that pipe into my leg like an ax to a tree. I’d been dragging around a limp for days, trying to avoid fights while it recovered. Being injured would slow me down, but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to dish out some revenge.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” someone I didn’t recognize added. “You would not come out unscathed. Walk away, and we can leave this.” He sounded older than any of the gang kids. Though his voice was calm, it held the dark edge of a threat.
Whatever. I’d kick his ass too if I had to.
He made for a helpful distraction as I launched myself around the corner. Tattoo turned just in time for my elbow to shatter his nose. When he hunched over to clutch at his face, my knee met his gut. For all his talk, he went down in a heap without a fight.
Scrawny came next. He was too tall for my elbows and knees to be much help. I couldn’t chance breaking my fingers on his ugly mug, so I punched him in the throat instead. People always try to curl in on themselves when they take a bad hit, try to hunker down and protect everything vital. That made my job easier because I was cursed to be short. Once Scrawny ducked his head enough to be in my range, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and smashed his face into the brick wall.
That left Pipe, who forced me to jump back as he aimed to crack my skull open. My right leg staggered under me, protesting my weight with nauseating flashes of pain. A strangled yelp tore up my throat, and Pipe’s eyes lit up with a sadistic recognition. “I remember you,” he laughed as his pipe swung back around and cracked into my leg again.
I had to hiss air between my teeth to keep from screaming. The pain burned so hot that the rest of my body seemed chilled. The deafening crack of a blaster cut through the air, and I found Pipe clutching his empty hand to his chest with a wince. His weapon clattered to the ground.
As the burnt smell of the gunshot tinged the air, the last man in the alley steadied his aim again and spoke in such a low voice that it could have been a growl. “Leave.”
I wasn’t going to fuck with anyone wielding a gun, but while the other bastards scurried off back to whatever pits they crawled out of, my first step brought the ground up to meet me. My leg roared with pain so overwhelming that my eyelids fluttered before I could yank them back open.
“There’s no way you’re moving on that,” the gunman said. The edge was gone from his voice, replaced with a flat drawl of reality. He sounded far too close for my liking. “Stay still.”
He hung over me, close enough that I could see the dark brown of his one eye even in the dim light from our moons. His arm clutched me around the shoulders, keeping me upright. He could fuck right off with all of that.
“Don’t touch me!” I sent a jab straight for his face, but the crushing grip of his hand caught mine.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as I tried to yank my hand free. “You helped me, and I appreciate it.”
“I didn’t fight them to help you,” I snarled. Only when I let the tension out of my arm did he release his grip. “I just had some business with those assholes. If you came to this planet looking like that, you’re dumb enough that you deserve to get jumped.”
Gunman had clothes so nice I’d only seen them in pictures. It seemed too fancy, like a costume. “Maybe, but I could handle them,” he said. I wanted to tell him that a gun wouldn’t save him forever, but his hand pressed on my thigh where the damned pipe had just hit. He may not have put any pressure on the bruise. I couldn’t tell. Just the weight of his hand was enough to send my stomach rolling from the pain. Exhaustion hit me like a wall, my eyes rolling back.
“Damn,” he hissed. His voice was enough for me to grab onto to stay conscious, shaking away the dark edges on my vision. “That’s, uh, not good.”
“S’fine,” I said. “Get away from me.”
“My name is Harlock,” he said like I’d asked. “I employ a doctor. Let me take you to him.”
I may not have gone to school much, but I was not that stupid. Too many of the other guys on the streets went missing for me to trust some rich asshole with a gun. “Hell no!”
“Then let me contact your family-”
“Don’t have one.”
Silence bit at us for a breath. “Sorry,” he said. “I suppose I should have known. Listen, I understand why you wouldn’t want to trust me, but I came to this planet looking for someone to hire - a bodyguard. I know a number of skilled mercenaries work in this area, so that was my original intent, but why don’t you let me hire you instead? You seem plenty capable.”
“Thought you said you could handle yourself.” My words tinged with a slur. Sleep pulled at me like grasping hands reaching from the ground.
“You wouldn’t be guarding me. You’d be looking after my employees.”
“Who’re they? I don’t look after assholes.” I’d never looked after anyone but myself. Gangs weren’t for me. I couldn’t get along with anyone else, and Harlock didn’t know what he was talking about. Or he was lying. That seemed more likely.
“No,” he said. “You’ll be fighting the assholes.”
“I’ll consider it.” Considering time was a half-second, and that was enough to assure me Harlock was bad news. “No,” I decided.
“Let me get you to a doctor regardless.”
“I’m fine.” I would have been even better if he would have let go of me, actually.
Harlock heaved a sigh. “Look, I’m not a medical professional, and even I can tell that leg is broken.”
He was obviously no professional because my leg was not broken, just bruised. I would have noticed a break. “Really?” I drawled in disbelief. “And how are you so sure?”
“I can feel the bone sticking out of place”
“Bullshit!” When I placed my hand on my thigh, though, I could feel the way my skin had shifted in an uneven ridge beneath the fabric of my pants. “Well… It’ll heal eventually.” The pain didn’t seem like enough to be a break, so I guessed it could have been some knot instead. After all, I could still move my leg. As I pulled my knee inward, aiming to stand, the pain morphed into a tidal wave that dragged me under. My vision slipped to black, and I could hear Harlock barking something. None of it was clear enough to understand.
All I could make sense of was the pain until that blinked out too.
I woke in what must have been a hospital room. Too damn bright and white to be anything else. I had to squint to make out much of anything. The bed was the first I’d slept on in ages that didn’t jab me with metal springs. As my eyes adjusted, I spotted a man standing at my side. He wore a dark green uniform I didn’t recognize. His hair was so silky and neat that it looked more like a cat’s fur than hair. Brunet strands framed his face and dark brown eyes, which focused on the drip feed of some drug. The tube leading from the vial hooked to a needle port in the crook of my arm. My hand shot to it, ready to free myself from whatever he was using to drug me.
“Don’t,” he said, so sharp and sudden that I froze. His gaze had not left the clear liquid. “That’s just going to hurt. If you try to take it out, I’ll give you a bigger needle to replace it, so calm yourself. It’s just an antibiotic.”
Though I didn’t pull the needle free, I kept my hand on the port as I eyed him. “Who are you?”
“You are an idiot.” Still not looking at me, he gestured to the patch on his sleeve. The embroidered red x looked like the symbols on first aid kits I stole. That made him a walking first aid kit, I guessed.
“I’m not an idiot,” I snapped. “Doctors are supposed to wear white coats, so what are you?”
When his gaze did turn to me, the snobby irritation in his voice and expression did not change. “I am a medical sexaroid. Call me Zero if you must, though Doctor works as well. I am the one who fixed you, so you should be thankful.”
Thankful, my ass. I wasn’t staying anywhere with some fucked-up sex robot.
“I’ve set your broken leg,” he continued, “and I saw to your skull fracture. You must have had that for some time. I imagine the headaches were troublesome, and you must have been bleeding from your eyes, yes?”
That was enough to keep me put. “How’d you know?”
“Doc-tor,” he repeated with emphasis.
Though I held back some choice insults, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Okay, how’d you know, Doctor?”
His expression remained dull as he breathed a slow sigh. “The brain damage must have been worse than I thought. It doesn’t matter. I fixed what I could. I also cleaned out the infection in your lungs, and I removed that disgusting lice infestation from your hair. When was the last time you even bathed? Actually, I don’t want to know.”
For a robot, he was a huge dick. I guessed the robotic laws didn’t apply to emotional harm, not that he looked like a robot. He could have just been lying to be an even bigger dick.
“The last thing that needs proper attention is the malnourishment,” he said, crossing his arms, “and that is a simple fix. Some food will be brought shortly.”
He didn’t move when I reached up and poked at his cheek. Though he did feel like skin, he was cold and stiff like a corpse. “You don’t look like a robot,” I said.
He batted my hand away as he spoke. “Android. Not a robot. It’s in the name - sexa-roid.”
“Yeah, I’m more worried about the sex part. What the fuck is up with that?”
“It’s a catch-all term. The original sexaroids were built with an obvious, carnal purpose in mind, but as we were further developed, our uses became varied. My creator didn’t like calling me a sexaroid, but technically I am one due to some overlapping mechanics. Trying to have sex with me is not recommended, though, and will result in removal of some non-vital parts.”
As he spoke, I worked my way into a proper sitting position despite whatever drugs were weighing me down. I felt no less confused when he finished. “Is it that people can’t have sex with you, or that you don’t want them to?” I asked.
“Yes. Now stop asking stupid questions or you’ll be getting your pills the other way.”
“What other way?”
His dim eyes blinked twice before he shook his head. “Nevermind. Your food is here.”
Before I could tell him he was malfunctioning, the door across the room swung inward. Another man, older looking than the sex robot doctor but still not that old, strode in focused on the tray of dishes in his hands. His brow knitted in concentration as he tried to keep whatever was on there from spilling. When he did look my way, his eyes brightened like an eager puppy’s. “So good to see you up,” he said. “I made you some food.”
He could have brought me anything, laced with poison or drugs or whatever, and I would have scarfed it down. My stomach seemed to be eating itself, turning into a gaping hole in my gut. I was always hungry.
What he set down across my lap was actually damn good, just about the best thing I’d ever eaten. It was some kind of potato soup, so warm it heated me from my chest to my fingers and toes. The man had to tell me not to eat it too fast because I all-but gagged myself on the spoon in my rush.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said with a smile. “I don’t get such compliments on my cooking often.”
I hadn’t said anything, too busy chewing on the spoon. He didn’t seem to mind.
“My name is Warrius Zero. I work here.”
My eyes narrowed as I looked back to the doctor. “Wasn’t your name Zero too? Is this some kind of cult?” And if Second Zero worked at the hospital, he sure didn’t dress for the part. He had the same sort of fancy costume that I’d seen on Harlock.
“If you must know, my creator named me after him,” the doctor said. “Now shut up and drink your water.”
Glaring at him out of the corner of my eye, I chugged the water and slammed the empty glass back down on the tray. Despite my attempt at defiance, he smirked.
“Would you mind giving us your name as well?” Second Zero asked, still with that kind smile.
“I don’t like to give my name out to weirdos in suspicious hospitals.” Or anyone else, honestly. No one needed my name. It wasn’t as though we were going to be pals.
“If you tell me your name, I’ll bring you more soup.”
“Daiba. Tadashi Daiba.”
He was good on his word, and as I ate two more bowls of soup, I found myself with more odd visitors. The hospital had a weird dress code because they all wore a rainbow of vests. First came the alien, who didn’t say anything but looked so starry-eyed as he clasped my hands that I couldn’t bring myself to dislike him. The guy called Dick lived up to his name, an annoying prick. He kept trying to ruffle my hair until I bit him. The brothers were fine, kind of weird with their constant arguing, but they didn’t try to touch me beyond a handshake.
My first non-guy visitor also didn’t wear a stupid vest. She dressed casually and appraised me with the same suspicion I gave her. “How old are you?” she asked.
Not that it was any of her business, but I set to counting back the winters, trying to recall how long it had been since my last proper birthday. My planet had about two cycles for every Earth one, so that was…
“Fourteen? Fifteen?” I looked up from my fingers. I didn’t have enough to help me count. “I don’t know.”
“Oh jeez.” Her head listed to the side, and her arms crossed. “Well, you’re not exactly what I asked for, but I’ve heard good things about your fighting ability. It’ll be nice to work with you once you’re back on your feet. I’m Kei, also a bodyguard.”
My spine shot straight. “I didn’t agree to that job! And I didn’t ask for anyone’s help, so I don’t owe any of you anything.” If they expected payment or servitude for fixing me up, they would be sorely disappointed.
Her smile turned into a smirk. “Too bad. You’re stuck with us now. With how rough you were when the captain brought you in, there’s no way the boys are going to let you go back to that planet. What did you even do to wind up like that?”
That wasn’t her business either, and I was not going to let her gloss over the more important topic. “What do you mean ‘back to that planet?’ Where the hell are we? I’m leaving! You can’t keep me here!”
“You’re on a satellite,” Harlock said as he slipped in like a shadow through the open door. “You have no money for transportation, so unless you have some other method of space traversal, you’d do well to make yourself comfortable for the time being.” He placed himself beside Kei, his expression stony in response to my glare. “Sorry for taking so long to come see you. You seem to be doing much better. I’m glad. Now before you try to attack me-”
I wasn’t just going to try. I was going to destroy him.
“-I’m going to once again offer you the position of bodyguard for Arcadia.”
“Arcadia? The whorehouse?” I’d heard whispers of it back home, a place notorious for being outside of the law’s reach. “Is this sex trafficking? What the fuck!?”
The doctor sighed as I tried to launch myself out of the bed to kick Harlock’s ass. I forgot about the cast on my leg. The awkward extra weight dragged me down, and my cheek smacked against the icy floor.
“You’d be a bodyguard for the sex workers, not one yourself,” Harlock said as Kei picked me up by the scruff of my hospital gown and tossed me back into bed. “You already met them, all of the prostitutes in my employment.”
The only people I’d met were all those guys, so they must have been the whores. While I didn’t know what a whore was supposed to look like, I had a feeling those guys weren’t typical. That also brought up some weird questions about those brothers that I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to.
“Your job would be to subdue any clients who aim to bring harm to my employees,” Harlock continued. “I have strict rules of consent, and I don’t tolerate troublesome clients. They tend to be quite wealthy and think they can get away with whatever they’d like because of it. If you need to rough them up some to get the message across, that’s fine by me.”
If I’d been kidnapped just so I could fight for them, I wasn’t sure I could be mad about it. Fighting was all I was good at, all I knew how to do. I didn’t mind having to crack a few skulls in exchange for having all the lice gone. Damn things drove me crazy, so I would have killed a man if it meant being rid of them. Getting to wail on some affluent assholes was just a plus. “So I’d just get to beat up rich bastards?” I asked.
Harlock shrugged. “More or less.”
Damn, I would have done that for free.
“Okay, I’ll work here, but only if I get more food.”
“That was easy,” Kei muttered.
A smile tugged at Harlock’s lips. “Your meals will be covered along with your room. I’m happy to have you aboard, Daiba.”
“Great, so can I get more potato soup?”
That soup was the first meal anyone had made for me in years. Monono’s cooking was great, and I loved all the sweets Kei brought from far-off places for me to try, but nothing beat that soup. It was every warmth and comfort Arcadia had given me. Every time I wound up in the infirmary with that asshole doctor, Zero would make it for me. Even when he was half-asleep at 3 AM.
I’d lost some time to the drugs Doctor gave me for surgery, but when I woke, Mamoru was sitting on the cot beside mine as his brother berated him. The two of them both had bowls of soup in their hands, and Zero was dozing in a chair near the foot of my bed. When Doctor noticed me awake, he helped me ease into a sitting position. As he handed me my own bowl of soup, he said that Harlock had taken care of the stab-happy client.
That was all I knew about what happened to bad clients - Harlock “took care” of them. I got to throw out troublemakers, but the real sick bastards I just put down. After Harlock took over, I never saw them again, and that was fine by me.
Other than the dark stain of a bruise on his cheek, Mamoru looked alright. “It won’t happen again,” he was telling his brother. “I was just careless. I’ll be more careful.”
No, I was careless. I should have gotten to him faster, should have noticed the client was trouble at the beginning. If I’d been any slower, that knife could have done some real damage. I would not let that happen again.
“Daiba’s the one to be upset over,” Mamoru continued when the concern didn’t ease from Susumu’s face. “Go fret about him. Doc gave me an all clear, not even a concussion. There’s no need to worry.”
After adjusting the drip of whatever he was drugging me with this round, Doctor sighed and went over to Zero, who was two seconds from falling out of the chair. Doctor hooked his arm under Zero’s and pulled him to his feet, murmuring, “Let’s just get you to bed before there’s another injury, alright?”
Zero’s head lolled as he fought to hold onto some form of consciousness. “Hm? What? Where are we going? Is Daiba okay?”
Their voices echoed as they reached the hall. “Daiba is fine. He’s too stubborn to let a knife bother him. Now how does sleep sound?”
“Sleep is good. I love sleep. I love you.”
“Right, yes, I love you too.”
“Zero’s cute when he’s tired,” Mamoru said. “And he’s got the right idea. I should get back to my room before Doc wants to run any more tests. You should get some sleep too, Susumu. Your client is coming tomorrow.”
Susumu’s lips tightened to a thin line as he helped his brother to his feet. Whether he was upset about Mamoru’s condition, or the idea of his client, I wasn’t sure, but I hated that royal bastard. His smug face and sweeping, flashy mannerisms made me want to knock him out. Mamoru and Susumu almost never had troubles with clients when they were together. Weird as it was, I hoped the two of them could pair up again. I wanted that royal guy gone as soon as possible. As much as I hated him, though, I hoped he wouldn’t give me a reason to kick his ass.
Mamoru came up to my side and squeezed me in a bone-crushing hug until Susumu barked at him about my stitches. While I wanted to be angry at him too, I didn’t hate the hugs. The guys didn’t need to know it. I wasn’t going to say I wanted hugs or anything. I didn’t, really, but I wasn’t going to say no to one if the guys wanted to hug me.
Unless it was Dick because he could fuck off.
“Thanks, kid,” Mamoru said as he pulled away. “But next time don’t scare me like that, alright?”
“I’m fine,” I reminded him.
“I know, and I know it’s your job to look after us, but I’m still allowed to worry when you get hurt.”
When Susumu hugged me, he clung like static, pressed tight with his face buried in my shoulder. “Thank you for looking after my idiot brother,” he murmured. “I know this room can be cold. Do you need anything?”
He didn’t let go, still hanging on me, so I put my arms around him too. Unsure what else to do, I patted his back. “I wish I could go back to my room, but I know the doctor won’t let me,” I said.
“Yeah, he’s stubborn,” Susumu sighed, pulling back with a worn smile. “But don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.”
As they headed for the hall, Mamoru whispered, “We will?”
Susumu said something I couldn’t hear in return, but I could see him smiling. They didn’t turn off the lights when they left. The Doctor would if he felt like it.
Putting my bowl aside on the table, I eased myself back down despite the ache in my side. I swore it hurt more after the stitches, feeling like it might tear open again at any moment. Once I’d flopped onto my back, though, the pain fell away. Sleep came easy for the two seconds I was allowed to have it.
“Hey, Daiba.”
I cracked one eye open to find one staring back in return. Kneeling at my side, Captain forced a weak smile and started patting my hair. “Sorry to wake you, but I took care of him. He won’t come back.”
“Of course.” My words slurred in rebellion. “You always do, Captain.”
He never touched me except to drag me away from bad clients, so the patting confused me. The fear burning his eye was unnatural too, something he never let show. “I’ll be more careful in checking for weapons,” he breathed more than said. “I’m very sorry.”
Oh, guilt. That was it. Captain didn’t need to feel guilty for my sake. None of them did, yet it kept happening. I was just their shield, a thing to be used. They didn’t need to feel bad for a shield when it took a hit. If I broke, that was my own fault, not theirs. They’d done enough for me, taking me in and looking after my wounds, making me food, giving me affection in their own weird ways. In return, I would take a knife or a bullet. Anything for them. The only ones who’d ever cared about me.
“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s not the first time I’ve been stabbed.”
Captain winced. “You are a magnet for trouble, you know?” he sighed, standing. Some form of a kiss brushed against my forehead and bangs. “You did a good job, Daiba. Get some rest.”
He flicked the light off as he slipped out, and once again, I fell into a doze. And once again, someone dragged me out of it.
The bed shifted under the weight of heavy hands and knees. “Daiba, are you okay?” whispered a small voice, so sweet I swore I’d get a toothache just from hearing him. “Susumu said you got stabbed.” Looking like he might collapse and fall asleep against me at any moment, Tadashi sat at my side in his pink pajamas, lips drawn to a pout.
“I-I’m alright.” But my face was getting hot. He was close enough that sitting up would have knocked our heads together, not that I could sit up easily. “You can go back to bed.”
Tadashi nodded. “The Kodais said it’s cold in here, but don’t worry,” he said through a yawn. Tugging up the blankets, he settled himself under them and flopped his head down against my pillow. “I will help.”
Though he seemed to pass out in seconds, I could no longer grasp sleep. Our noses almost touched in the small space of the bed. Had either of us been any bigger, it wouldn’t have worked, but he was so small. My hand trembled as I reached beneath the sheets and took hold of his. He slept on without a twitch, yet I felt a burning in my chest. Like the potato soup but painful. Like wanting to cry, maybe.
I hadn’t cried in so long. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like, but he made me remember. He made me want to as I pressed myself closer to him and listened to his soft breathing. No one was allowed to get near him. He was too small, too fragile. No one but me.
