and in the night i come to you
ship: madakana (madara x kanata)
request: hurt/comfort
word count: 1310
there’s a knock at their front door. one so quiet he barely hears it over the sound of their record spinning; but it’s familiar. they know that knock from anywhere. it’s the same four knocks every saturday night– two quick taps on the door and a few seconds between the next two. it’s madara at his door.
as they open the door they can’t help but sigh looking over madara’s appearance. his ponytail is loose and most of his hair is down, there’s a cut on his eyebrow– kanata knows it’s new because it wasn’t there last week when madara came rushing to his doorstep waiting to be fixed up again. they hate seeing his old friend in such pain, it hurts him too to see him come back every week so broken without knowing the cause.
“you’re bleeding, mama,” they almost whisper. “again.”
“are you gonna let me in?”
he lets himself in kanata’s apartment without waiting for them to answer anyway so they’re not too sure why he asked. when madara pushes past him they notice him clutching his side, fingers covered in… blood?
“woah, hey! hold on a minute– are you… what happened?” he receives no reply as madara walks into his bathroom like he owns the place; but he doesn’t shut the door so kanata assumes it’s an open invitation to follow.
“mama–” kanata cuts himself off when he steps in the door. madara is shirtless. shirtless, and handsome, and lean and– kanata shakes his head. now’s not the time, shinkai! they look down to where madara is keeping his hand pressed on the side of his body, blood beginning to drip onto the floor. “you’re going to tell me what happened to you now.”
he hisses in pain as he chuckles at kanata’s worried state. he’s used to them being so calm and collected, but this– this is out of character even for an oddball like kanata. they’re rushing to their medicine cabinet in front of madara to grab supplies for what looks like a… a stab wound. what has this man got himself into now?
“If i told you,” kanata stops for a moment, “i’d have to kill you.” and there he goes laughing again.
“madara mikejima, i am being so serious right now. you either tell me what happened so i can help you, or you can get the fuck out of my house.”
woah. he’s never heard kanata drop the f-bomb before. now he really looks at kanata, he sees more than just worry in his eyes. he sees tears forming like two ponds overflowing on a rainy night, his green eyes shining in the dim light of the bathroom. even in their moment of panic madara thinks kanata is so, so beautiful. he’s getting lightheaded– drunk off how handsome kanata looks in the beige turtleneck they always seem to be wearing. or maybe it’s because he really was stabbed and is now losing blood. yeah, that seems more likely all things considered. the last thing he hears before blacking out is kanata calling his name, and they still sound like the ocean’s calm waves even when they’re crying.
when he wakes up it’s too warm. it feels like he’s swimming in a pool of his own sweat before he shoves the navy blue comforter off him onto the other side of the bed. wait… bed? madara doesn’t remember falling asleep, especially not in kanata’s bed. where was kanata anyway? madara tries sitting up but is immediately blinded by the pain in his side.
“shit,” he curses. he could really use a drink.
“you got stitches. don’t sit up too fast, idiot.”
kanata is holding a bowl filled with what madara assumes to be soup and pulls up his desk chair next to the bed. “open,” they say with a straight face.
madara groans when he sits up, resting most of his body on the pillows behind him while trying to get as comfortable as possible. having fresh stitches and an angry kanata aimed at you is not exactly the most soothing now is it? an angry kanata with a bowl of hot soup that could be thrown at his face any minute now. he supposes it’s nice they are feeding him, though. madara is really tired, he’s exhausted from everything that’s happened in just a few short hours.
“who gave me stitches? did you take me to a hospital?”
“oh. okay. how long was i asleep for?”
kanata doesn’t say anything after that. he continues to feed madara, but he doesn’t speak. when the bowl is mostly empty they set it down on the nightstand. the quiet clank of glass on wood being the only noise made in the silent room. they’re staring at madara with thinned lips and raised brows, like they’re waiting for something. when nothing happens kanata huffs, he grabs the bowl and begins to walk out of the bedroom just before madara stops him in his tracks.
“wait,” he groans, “i’ll… tell you what happened. i don’t like it when you’re angry.”
and so they sit back down. this time on the bed by madara’s feet, awaiting an explanation as to why he was so badly injured this time around. madara explains that he’s in an underground boxing club– a group of about 20 men come watch him box every saturday night, getting off on the act of fighting with little to no rules, purely into it for the pain that’s inflicted on others. kanata does not approve of course. kanata is even more upset by how his friend even got an injury this bad to begin with— some asshole snuck a weapon, which is highly prohibited, one of the very few rules they actually have, into a match with madara.
“you’re what!? mama, that’s– it’s dangerous! look at what’s happened to you! it– it– none of this is safe!” kanata’s hands are shaking when he jolts off the bed to stand in front of madara. “you were seriously hurt, who knows what else could have happened, you fucking idiot!”
“aw you do care about me, ‘nata!” and oh. that sets something off in kanata.
“are you kidding me? are you really stupid enough to think i don’t care about you? i wake up every saturday morning knowing you will be here by nightfall, but i am so scared that one day there won’t be any knocks on my door from you. do you know how scary it is to see you so hurt almost constantly? do you, madara!?”
and madara feels… bad. he feels sick for making kanata feel this way– he didn’t think they cared so much. before madara can get a word in, kanata sniffles and wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve, speaking into his arm a muffled “i love you, mama.”
“you… love me?” madara is still baffled. how could someone like kanata love someone like him? after all he’s done? how could they love him after he abandoned them…
“of course i do, mama. ever since we were children. even then i hated seeing you hurt.” kanata chuckles a little, remembering when madara fell out of a tree and broke his arm when he was trying to impress some girl from middle school. “please promise me you won’t go back, mama.”
madara stares into kanata’s teary green eyes. he doesn’t wish to make kanata cry ever again, he already feels so guilty. he promises kanata. he promises he will take care of himself and quit his underground boxing career. “if you can even call it that,” kanata shoots at him.
“hey, i was a champion! i’ve never lost a boxing match, don’t you think that’s sexy about me?”
“… i’m going to stab you next.”
baratheonpilled
jacobvanloon
discoholicmusic
theartofmadeline
stormborns
tangentwithtanner
izzy806
titsay
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
