[Team 1] No win scenarios
(For Kitsu because she said so.)
This is hella more angsty than I meant it to be. 8X;;; A bit of the YaraRyo from the Midnight Crazy verse, though tbh, the initial idea of this was to be a lot less angsty and a lot more porn-y and I'm not sure what happened to that, whoops 8D;;; (Basically Miyata's saliva from the attack is keeping Yamaryo's wounds open and now Yara is faced with the choice of leaving him alone or turning him into a... not... vampire. Thing.)
“You two are crazy,” Yara said flatly, turning away from Yokoo and Tatsumi. The anger rippled through him, through clenched jaws and tight fists, refusing to unbend to the reality that had begun forming around him. He should have realized, but no, that would have meant that he’d failed in the worst way imaginable. He had failed Yamamoto so completely.
“You know we wouldn’t say this if there was another way,” Tatsumi murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Yara, this will kill him.”
“I can’t,” Yara said, shaking his head. “I can’t do that to him. I’d never do that to him.”
“Not everyone turns out like Gaya,” Yokoo said, and Yara found if unfair that he sounded so sensible about the whole situation. It was all fine and dandy for Yokoo to be so calm about it, apologetic about the solution they suggested, because it wasn’t his…
Ryouta.
Yara frowned, trying to look past the anger at them all, at himself, because Yokoo had a point.
Not everyone ended up broken like Fujigaya.
But then again, nobody had expected Fujigaya to break like that either.
“He’s not healing,” Tatsumi continued. “We can only do so much like this, his body is going to give out before too long.”
(It was almost a shame that Miyata was barely more than a pup. Innocent, naïve, and trying to fit himself back into society. Had he been less of a good person, Yara wouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to kill him.)
And Yara hated that he was even thinking about it, but how could he not with Yamamoto still torn apart and slowly inching towards death. The very thought of that eventuality killed Yara.
“I need to talk to him,” he said finally. “I can’t choose this for him.”
What if he said no?
What if he said yes?
Yokoo simply nodded at his answer, standing up and heading to the door with a look of sympathy. Tatsumi followed after him, but lingered, the concern clear as day on his face. Yara tried to smile, doing his best to be reassuring, but a grim air had set in, suffocating all else.
Yara had never done well in no-win scenarios.
---
Yamamoto was asleep when Yara slipped into his apartment, but even in sleep, he wasn’t truly relaxed, his brows knitted, his expression pinched. Yara could feel the pain, the dull, throbbing pain. Yamamoto liked to laugh and say he’d grown used to it, but Yara knew better.
It hurt, to know that there was few options to relieve Yamamoto of the pain, to know that he was willing to do anything to ease things for Yamamoto, but to have come to this.
Yamamoto stirred, grumbling softly as he rubbed his eyes, softened by sleep and unbearably adorable, Yara couldn’t quell the surge of affection in his chest, despite the gravity of the situation.
“Hey there,” he whispered, crouching down next to the couch, carding his fingers through Yamamoto’s hair. “You should sleep in bed next time. It’s bad for your back like this.”
“My back is hardly the problem right now,” Yamamoto said, lips twitching up into a smile. “Besides… You never used to visit me like this, it can’t be so bad.”
If I hadn’t visited at all, you’d not be in this situation is what Yara doesn’t say. A part of him regrets it, the stupid games he’d played in the beginning. Yamamoto would have been safe, would have been happy, would have been normal.
A bigger part of Yara knew that he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“Hey,” Yamamoto’s gentle voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Don’t scowl, Yaracchi-nii.” It was his turn to run his fingers through Yara’s hair, touch soft and soothing. “What’s wrong?”
Yara took a deep breath, reaching up to take Yamamoto’s hand in both of his own. The warmth of Yamamoto’s touch was so comforting, he realized with a pang, and almost lied, almost backed out, because how could he even think to ask this of Yamamoto.
He hated himself for even thinking about it.
But then his eyes traced over the bandages beneath Yamamoto’s shirt and listened to the way Yamamoto’s heart beat in his chest. The warmth might leave, but there would still be the way Yamamoto laughed, the sunshine in his eyes, and the fierce passion in his heart. He couldn’t imagine life without Yamamoto, even though he’d gone through decades without Yamamoto by his side.
There would still be chances for happiness.
(There would still be chances for misery and madness, a small voice reminded him.)
“There’s a way to help you get better,” he said after a long pause, smiling sadly as he cradled Yamamoto’s hand between his own. “But it’s not… it’s not very safe, Ryouta. And when it’s all over… you might not be the same.”
I am a terrible writer, what the fuck TAG YOU'RE IT, JOJIBEAR.
This is hella more angsty than I meant it to be. 8X;;; A bit of the YaraRyo from the Midnight Crazy verse, though tbh, the initial idea of this was to be a lot less angsty and a lot more porn-y and I'm not sure what happened to that, whoops 8D;;; (Basically Miyata's saliva from the attack is keeping Yamaryo's wounds open and now Yara is faced with the choice of leaving him alone or turning him into a... not... vampire. Thing.)
“You two are crazy,” Yara said flatly, turning away from Yokoo and Tatsumi. The anger rippled through him, through clenched jaws and tight fists, refusing to unbend to the reality that had begun forming around him. He should have realized, but no, that would have meant that he’d failed in the worst way imaginable. He had failed Yamamoto so completely.
“You know we wouldn’t say this if there was another way,” Tatsumi murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Yara, this will kill him.”
“I can’t,” Yara said, shaking his head. “I can’t do that to him. I’d never do that to him.”
“Not everyone turns out like Gaya,” Yokoo said, and Yara found if unfair that he sounded so sensible about the whole situation. It was all fine and dandy for Yokoo to be so calm about it, apologetic about the solution they suggested, because it wasn’t his…
Ryouta.
Yara frowned, trying to look past the anger at them all, at himself, because Yokoo had a point.
Not everyone ended up broken like Fujigaya.
But then again, nobody had expected Fujigaya to break like that either.
“He’s not healing,” Tatsumi continued. “We can only do so much like this, his body is going to give out before too long.”
(It was almost a shame that Miyata was barely more than a pup. Innocent, naïve, and trying to fit himself back into society. Had he been less of a good person, Yara wouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to kill him.)
And Yara hated that he was even thinking about it, but how could he not with Yamamoto still torn apart and slowly inching towards death. The very thought of that eventuality killed Yara.
“I need to talk to him,” he said finally. “I can’t choose this for him.”
What if he said no?
What if he said yes?
Yokoo simply nodded at his answer, standing up and heading to the door with a look of sympathy. Tatsumi followed after him, but lingered, the concern clear as day on his face. Yara tried to smile, doing his best to be reassuring, but a grim air had set in, suffocating all else.
Yara had never done well in no-win scenarios.
---
Yamamoto was asleep when Yara slipped into his apartment, but even in sleep, he wasn’t truly relaxed, his brows knitted, his expression pinched. Yara could feel the pain, the dull, throbbing pain. Yamamoto liked to laugh and say he’d grown used to it, but Yara knew better.
It hurt, to know that there was few options to relieve Yamamoto of the pain, to know that he was willing to do anything to ease things for Yamamoto, but to have come to this.
Yamamoto stirred, grumbling softly as he rubbed his eyes, softened by sleep and unbearably adorable, Yara couldn’t quell the surge of affection in his chest, despite the gravity of the situation.
“Hey there,” he whispered, crouching down next to the couch, carding his fingers through Yamamoto’s hair. “You should sleep in bed next time. It’s bad for your back like this.”
“My back is hardly the problem right now,” Yamamoto said, lips twitching up into a smile. “Besides… You never used to visit me like this, it can’t be so bad.”
If I hadn’t visited at all, you’d not be in this situation is what Yara doesn’t say. A part of him regrets it, the stupid games he’d played in the beginning. Yamamoto would have been safe, would have been happy, would have been normal.
A bigger part of Yara knew that he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“Hey,” Yamamoto’s gentle voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Don’t scowl, Yaracchi-nii.” It was his turn to run his fingers through Yara’s hair, touch soft and soothing. “What’s wrong?”
Yara took a deep breath, reaching up to take Yamamoto’s hand in both of his own. The warmth of Yamamoto’s touch was so comforting, he realized with a pang, and almost lied, almost backed out, because how could he even think to ask this of Yamamoto.
He hated himself for even thinking about it.
But then his eyes traced over the bandages beneath Yamamoto’s shirt and listened to the way Yamamoto’s heart beat in his chest. The warmth might leave, but there would still be the way Yamamoto laughed, the sunshine in his eyes, and the fierce passion in his heart. He couldn’t imagine life without Yamamoto, even though he’d gone through decades without Yamamoto by his side.
There would still be chances for happiness.
(There would still be chances for misery and madness, a small voice reminded him.)
“There’s a way to help you get better,” he said after a long pause, smiling sadly as he cradled Yamamoto’s hand between his own. “But it’s not… it’s not very safe, Ryouta. And when it’s all over… you might not be the same.”
I am a terrible writer, what the fuck TAG YOU'RE IT, JOJIBEAR.