[KRFourze;prose] back to daylight
Utahoshi Kengo, Kisaragi Gentarou
Post-episode 32 reaction fic.
Kengo used the medical switch to close the wound on Kisaragi's chest, although it left a long, thin scar in its wake, white and faded. Miu said that it was very manly and Kisaragi preened, idiot that he was, while Yuki continued to fuss over and Sakuta looked suitably chagrined. They've cleaned the worst of the injuries at the Rabbit Hatch, but Kisaragi had to trash the shirt he wore, too torn up and bloodied to be salvaged. Sakuta offered to buy a replacement, but Kisaragi waved it off in his usual fashion, saying those shirts were a dime a dozen and it was worth Ryusei's friendship. Kengo bit his tongue to avoid commenting that Sakuta's friendship wasn't just worth a t-shirt, the stupidhead died for him, and there's nothing Sakuta could ever do to pay him back. In the end, he hid in the control room for the rest of the afternoon, fatigue setting in after the adrenaline rush had worn off.
Inside, Kengo could hear the rest of the club celebrating, but he was just too tired to even begrudge the fact that they hadn't be the ones struggling to bring Kisaragi back to life, or to leave his lifeless body while searching for the message from his father. He was relieved that Kisaragi is alive again, even...happy, but right now all he wanted was some time alone to pick up and put together the feelings of fear and shock and anger that he had shut away earlier. The table wasn't the most comfortable place to lay his head, but it was enough for the moment and he fell asleep.
He woke up to the hum of computers, mouth dry and eyes gummy. A sleepy look at his watch told him that it was past six, and he struggled to get up. Kengo knew that his anemia was bad, but it still sucked to feel so out of it even after rest. Sleep was supposed to be refreshing, but Kengo rarely felt so.
"Here." Someone curled a glass of water around his fingers, but it still took a few moments for Kengo to register that it's Kisaragi. Who had simply decided that wearing his jacket without a shirt was good enough, although, yeah, they were in the temperature-controlled climate of the Hatch and it's not like he'd catch a cold. Kengo made a muffled groan and sniped, "Go home already and put a shirt on, will you."
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Kisaragi said, and nudged the glass. The water helped to ease the dryness of his mouth, and it loosened his tongue too, because he found himself snapping back, "You should be the one checking yourself out at the doctor's. You had a cardiac arrest."
Kisaragi simply smiled that easy smile of his, and it's hard to argue when your opponent steadfastly refused to fight back. He grasped Kengo's hand, helping him up. Kisaragi's hand was warm and dry, rough from fighting and it was just comforting, to hold that hand. Not many hours ago he had been holding it as a cold, lifeless line, and Kengo had to close his eyes to stem the tide of jumbled emotions.
"Sheesh," Kisaragi said, "You need to eat more, your hands are cold." He sounded very close, and then Kengo could feel skin brush against his cheek before Kisaragi's kissing him, soft and slow. He kissed back, hands slipping to touch Kisaragi, ignoring the hiss of "Cold!" against his lips.
"Oosugi said you were amazing," Kisaragi said. He had wound his arms around Kengo's shoulders, enveloping him and just this once Kengo didn't resent how tall Kisaragi was. He could feel the flutter of Kisaragi's heart beneath his fingers, past the scar and even though Kisaragi's here in front of him Kengo's still inexplicably frightened. They were lucky this time again, but Kengo was beginning to wonder when they would run out of luck. "You wouldn't give up on me."
"How could I when you were the one who wouldn't give up first," he replied, hands curling. "How could we defeat the Zodiarts if you stayed dead?" His voice broke on the last note, cracked and vulnerable and Kengo hated himself for being like this.
"I'm sorry," Kisaragi said. Kengo wanted to tell Kisaragi that if he was really sorry he was never to do it again, to give his life to other people, but then, Kisaragi wouldn't be Kisaragi otherwise. If he hadn't pushed Kengo, hadn't brought the club together, they wouldn't be where they were now. The important thing was that Kisaragi's still alive due to his efforts, and Kengo intends to keep it that way. For now, he contented himself that Kisaragi was here, and he stopped fighting, curling his arms around Kisaragi.
"Idiot," Kengo said, and stood on his tiptoes, and kissed Kisaragi again.
Post-episode 32 reaction fic.
Kengo used the medical switch to close the wound on Kisaragi's chest, although it left a long, thin scar in its wake, white and faded. Miu said that it was very manly and Kisaragi preened, idiot that he was, while Yuki continued to fuss over and Sakuta looked suitably chagrined. They've cleaned the worst of the injuries at the Rabbit Hatch, but Kisaragi had to trash the shirt he wore, too torn up and bloodied to be salvaged. Sakuta offered to buy a replacement, but Kisaragi waved it off in his usual fashion, saying those shirts were a dime a dozen and it was worth Ryusei's friendship. Kengo bit his tongue to avoid commenting that Sakuta's friendship wasn't just worth a t-shirt, the stupidhead died for him, and there's nothing Sakuta could ever do to pay him back. In the end, he hid in the control room for the rest of the afternoon, fatigue setting in after the adrenaline rush had worn off.
Inside, Kengo could hear the rest of the club celebrating, but he was just too tired to even begrudge the fact that they hadn't be the ones struggling to bring Kisaragi back to life, or to leave his lifeless body while searching for the message from his father. He was relieved that Kisaragi is alive again, even...happy, but right now all he wanted was some time alone to pick up and put together the feelings of fear and shock and anger that he had shut away earlier. The table wasn't the most comfortable place to lay his head, but it was enough for the moment and he fell asleep.
He woke up to the hum of computers, mouth dry and eyes gummy. A sleepy look at his watch told him that it was past six, and he struggled to get up. Kengo knew that his anemia was bad, but it still sucked to feel so out of it even after rest. Sleep was supposed to be refreshing, but Kengo rarely felt so.
"Here." Someone curled a glass of water around his fingers, but it still took a few moments for Kengo to register that it's Kisaragi. Who had simply decided that wearing his jacket without a shirt was good enough, although, yeah, they were in the temperature-controlled climate of the Hatch and it's not like he'd catch a cold. Kengo made a muffled groan and sniped, "Go home already and put a shirt on, will you."
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Kisaragi said, and nudged the glass. The water helped to ease the dryness of his mouth, and it loosened his tongue too, because he found himself snapping back, "You should be the one checking yourself out at the doctor's. You had a cardiac arrest."
Kisaragi simply smiled that easy smile of his, and it's hard to argue when your opponent steadfastly refused to fight back. He grasped Kengo's hand, helping him up. Kisaragi's hand was warm and dry, rough from fighting and it was just comforting, to hold that hand. Not many hours ago he had been holding it as a cold, lifeless line, and Kengo had to close his eyes to stem the tide of jumbled emotions.
"Sheesh," Kisaragi said, "You need to eat more, your hands are cold." He sounded very close, and then Kengo could feel skin brush against his cheek before Kisaragi's kissing him, soft and slow. He kissed back, hands slipping to touch Kisaragi, ignoring the hiss of "Cold!" against his lips.
"Oosugi said you were amazing," Kisaragi said. He had wound his arms around Kengo's shoulders, enveloping him and just this once Kengo didn't resent how tall Kisaragi was. He could feel the flutter of Kisaragi's heart beneath his fingers, past the scar and even though Kisaragi's here in front of him Kengo's still inexplicably frightened. They were lucky this time again, but Kengo was beginning to wonder when they would run out of luck. "You wouldn't give up on me."
"How could I when you were the one who wouldn't give up first," he replied, hands curling. "How could we defeat the Zodiarts if you stayed dead?" His voice broke on the last note, cracked and vulnerable and Kengo hated himself for being like this.
"I'm sorry," Kisaragi said. Kengo wanted to tell Kisaragi that if he was really sorry he was never to do it again, to give his life to other people, but then, Kisaragi wouldn't be Kisaragi otherwise. If he hadn't pushed Kengo, hadn't brought the club together, they wouldn't be where they were now. The important thing was that Kisaragi's still alive due to his efforts, and Kengo intends to keep it that way. For now, he contented himself that Kisaragi was here, and he stopped fighting, curling his arms around Kisaragi.
"Idiot," Kengo said, and stood on his tiptoes, and kissed Kisaragi again.