[KRW;flashfic] in the valley
Narumi Akiko, Terui Ryuu
Post-episode 48.
He quickly gets over the indignity of having to rely on Akiko for even the most basic of needs; at least she had the decency to turn away while he does his toileting. Washing is a different business, it hurts even to bend a little, and though Akiko stops flinching after the first few instances, he still feels guilty for allowing her to help.
"There," Akiko says, deftly tying a butterfly knot for the new bandages and patting his hip. She gingerly wraps her arms under his armpits and grunts, "one, two," before she lifts him so that he can stand. He feels stiff from sitting too much on the wheelchair, and although walking is hard and painful, Ryuu stubbornly insists that it's time he gets back to his feet, no matter how slowly it takes.
He is covered in a mild perspiration by the time he makes it to the bed, but victory is sweet when Akiko helps him to sit down. She wrinkles her nose at the sweat and says something about him undoing all of her hard work, he stinks again, but Ryuu is dizzy with glee for the first time in a long while. He unconsciously smiles up at her, and her face softens.
"Oh Ryuu-kun," she says, just because she can, and on impulse, he gently pulls her down and close. She resists a little before he says, "It's okay," and then she gives in, climbs into the bed, rests her knees on the space beside him, and bumps her hip against his. Akiko smells like medicine and camomile and underneath that the potpourri hobby she's picked up while she whiles away the hours at the agency, and he puts an arm around her. It's the first proper hug they've had in ages, ever since Phillip died.
"Does it hurt," Akiko murmurs, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Her eyes are distant and glassy, and Ryuu knows she isn't talking about anything remotely close to his physical wounds. He sighs, ruffling the bangs around her face, and presses a kiss to her forehead.
"It does," Ryuu says, and feels the trickle of tears on his neck.
Post-episode 48.
He quickly gets over the indignity of having to rely on Akiko for even the most basic of needs; at least she had the decency to turn away while he does his toileting. Washing is a different business, it hurts even to bend a little, and though Akiko stops flinching after the first few instances, he still feels guilty for allowing her to help.
"There," Akiko says, deftly tying a butterfly knot for the new bandages and patting his hip. She gingerly wraps her arms under his armpits and grunts, "one, two," before she lifts him so that he can stand. He feels stiff from sitting too much on the wheelchair, and although walking is hard and painful, Ryuu stubbornly insists that it's time he gets back to his feet, no matter how slowly it takes.
He is covered in a mild perspiration by the time he makes it to the bed, but victory is sweet when Akiko helps him to sit down. She wrinkles her nose at the sweat and says something about him undoing all of her hard work, he stinks again, but Ryuu is dizzy with glee for the first time in a long while. He unconsciously smiles up at her, and her face softens.
"Oh Ryuu-kun," she says, just because she can, and on impulse, he gently pulls her down and close. She resists a little before he says, "It's okay," and then she gives in, climbs into the bed, rests her knees on the space beside him, and bumps her hip against his. Akiko smells like medicine and camomile and underneath that the potpourri hobby she's picked up while she whiles away the hours at the agency, and he puts an arm around her. It's the first proper hug they've had in ages, ever since Phillip died.
"Does it hurt," Akiko murmurs, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Her eyes are distant and glassy, and Ryuu knows she isn't talking about anything remotely close to his physical wounds. He sighs, ruffling the bangs around her face, and presses a kiss to her forehead.
"It does," Ryuu says, and feels the trickle of tears on his neck.