11It's dark.
It's always dark here.
There's nothing but a black vastness in front of Kida, but when he lifts his hand in front of his face he can see it. It's as if he is somehow emitting his own light; self-illuminated. And then he's reaching into his pocket, grasping his cell phone.
Kida doesn't recall his phone ringing but he opens the phone, compelled somehow, and places it next to his ear.
"Hello?"
There is only silence, and for a moment Kida wonders if there is anyone on the line at all.
But then he blinks and suddenly the scene is different.
He is no longer alone.
They're tall, towering almost, black silhouettes (but somehow darker then the pitch black around them, how was that—) standing in front of him. The silhouettes (people?) stand in a circle, surrounding something (someone). His phone is still pressing close to his ear, now almost humming to life.
The voice that speaks sounds chillingly familiar.
"—uestion number one! We have a special guest here today! Hint: It's someone very, very, very, important to you—" there is a crackling, muffled noise, "—Question two: What do you suppose—" it's like he has bad reception, the voice fading in and out, "—looks like right now?"
There's a loud cracking sound (a leg shattering), ringing along with the following ear-splitting scream. It's ringing, ringing, ringing—
"What bone was that, that just broke? Hint—" Kida can feel his arm shaking, his chest constricting, "—won't be walking for a while! Final Question—"
His chest is heaving and he feels sick, he remembers this—
"—what's going to happen if you don't come to the parking garage, where you trapped us, in twenty minutes?"
Click.
The silhouettes in front of him start moving, swinging down (and down and down) at the center of their circle; he can hear that chilling crack again, and again, and again—
And ( he, she, he, she who?) is screaming, it feels like his ears are going to burst and his stomach feels queasy, I'm going to be sick—
"Aren't you going to save—? You love— right?"
The screaming gets louder, incoherent and piercing; everything in Kida's head is telling him he has to save— (who are you?)— but his feet are planted to the ground, I can't move, I can't move, I have to, I love—!
D-don't I—?
The moment he squeezes his eyes shut the screams stop; though his ears are still ringing, and the silence still feels as if it's roaring somehow.
Suddenly there's a steady beep in the once quiet space and he opens his eyes carefully. He's looking down, and instead of overwhelming darkness there are plain, white tiles under his feet. Shifting his gaze up he finds the space has changed—
"Mikado?"
Something in the back of his mind is scratching, something's different about this, what is it?
His friend lies still against the stark white sheets of the bed, something uneasy stirring in the pit of Kida stomach as he takes in the sight of the casts encasing Mikado's legs. A compulsion swells up to run over to the other boy, to apologize—
It's all my fault, if only I had…
But even though everything in him is screaming to run over, Kida stands still. He watches Mikado with a mixture of guilt and strangely confusion.
What had happened to Mikado?
He knew. He knew … Why couldn't he remember?
The shiver that travels down his spine when Mikado's eyes flicker open unsettles him, and he thinks to call out to his friend but Kida's throat constricts; nothing comes out. For a moment Kida can't understand why, before he realizes that it's fear running down his back, clogging his throat—
My fault, I can't face them…!
And still Kida can't move, even when Mikado's eyes settle on him, Kida's entire body shaking, breathing in short, quick gasps. His heart hammers as his gaze connects with his friend's. Even though it's Mikado staring back at him, the look in his eyes sends Kida's thoughts into near hysteria. It couldn't possibly Mikado, he'd never look at me like that, not like—!
Unless.
Mikado shifts on the bed, whispering something under his breath as he moves his stiff legs off the mattress and onto the tile below. He keeps his eyes trained on Kida, standing uneasily on his casts.
Kida stands still, too frightened to move, as Mikado tries to walk toward him, mumbling all the way. A little more than halfway he collapses; vomiting in bright red all over the floor. The smell is overwhelming—
He looks up.
"Why didn't you save me Masaomi?"
Kida wakes screaming.
For a moment he isn't even aware of himself; there is only the dream, that horrible fucking dream—
He scampers to the toilet and retches; there's nothing but bile and spit to empty out.
He dry heaves for what feels like forever and even though he's awake he can still smell the blood and he just keeps heaving.
Finally, he leans away from the toilet and wipes his mouth before flushing the toilet; the empty pill bottle swirls around the bowl again.
He rests this throbbing head in his hand and breathes.
Over in his room he hears his ringtone going off. Groaning he gets up to go check who it is, settling on just crawling there. Standing is too much effort right now. He shuffles into his room and snatches his phone from his bag.
Private number.
"Ah, shit."
He lets it finish ringing and waits for a voicemail notification, leaning back so his back can rest against the mattress. He's got a pretty good guess who it is.
Nothing pops up but the phones starts ringing again and private number flashes up at him.
Sighing he concedes to the inevitable and answers; maybe he's wrong.
"Hello?"
"Oooohh there you are~!"
Curse his well-placed educated guesses.
He's about to hang up, far from being in the mood to deal with whatever shit Izaya's going to give him but—
"I have something really important to tell you, Masaomi-kun."
Kida pauses. The hair on the back of his neck is bristling and the nausea that never quite went away washes over him again.
"… well what is it?"
"Do you know I've been trying to call you for almost an hour now—"
"Izaya—"
"It's not like I have to do this but I just want to look out for you, Masaomi-kun—"
Kida let's out an annoyed groan and runs a hand through his hair.
"Get to the point already!"
"I was chatting with Ryuugamine-kun online earlier," Kida's breathing stopped, "And something ahh… concerning happened."
Why was Mikado talking to Izaya?
"Mid conversation Mikado just up and logged off. It was very out of character for him. That was about an hour ago and he hasn't come back."
Kida's mind was spiraling just how close were they?
"Mikado doesn't live in a very safe neighborhood you know."
Kida felt his throat constrict oh no.
"I'm just worried something may have happened—"
He's already running out of his apartment; his heart racing no no not again. He cuts off Izaya's call, quickly finding Mikado's number in his contacts. Mikado's place is at 20 minutes away walking even if he sprints all the way there—
It rings and rings and…
He curses and ends the call. He doesn't know how long it takes but he runs the whole way and halfway there his chest feels like it's going to combust. But he doesn't stop, not even for a moment.
He rushes up the stairs to Mikado's apartment and nearly throws himself against the door. He wastes no time and starts slamming his fist on the door.
"Mikado!"
There's scrambling and—
Mikado opens the door, the most scandalized look on his face.
Mikado in all his blue-eyed glory and Kida is just so fucking relieved.
"Masaomi?!"
Kida collapses to his hands and knees and retches on Mikado's doormat. The physical toll on his body from running was doing wonders for his already unsettled stomach.
Mikado squeaks and quickly crouches down by Kida.
"Are you okay!?"
He grabs Kida's shoulders, his voice on the verge of panic.
Kida heaves for a few moments more, before he finally shudders to a stop. He nods and wipes at his mouth, trying to breathe deeply. He wonders for a moment what on earth he's even throwing up at this point.
"Yeah yeah… Sorry. I uh… stomach bug."
Though it doesn't make any sense, Mikado doesn't ask and merely ushers Masaomi inside. He moves to slip off his shoes only to realize that, lo and behold, he isn't even wearing any.
"… Oh."
Now that he's aware, his feet sting lightly. He checks the bottom of feet, but besides a layer of dirt on his socks, he seems delightfully uninjured. Lucky~!
Mikado had moved on to the kitchen grabbing a couple damp towels to mop up the mess on the floor. He's jittering around, still caught up in the surprise and Masaomi feels a little guilty but mostly he still just so happy that Mikado's fine.
His friend shuffles back over and Masaomi reaches out to take one of the towels, muttering another quick apology. They make quick work of the mess and deposit the dirtied towels in the sink. They fall into an awkward silence, not really looking at each other, when it suddenly occurs to Masaomi, it's the middle of the night and he ran here with no shoes on.
Mikado's not looking at him, nervously scratching his arm, and another thought occurs to him. Mere hours ago he had nearly sexually assaulted his best friend after having purposefully avoided him for weeks shit.
It's obvious from the tension in the room that Mikado knows he's got to know. Masaomi had never even imagined he'd ever have to deal with the aftermath and most certainly not so soon. He can feel the panic rising.
Exit stage left.
"Ah ha ha wow look at the time! Well, I should probably go now, sorry for waking you up!" He starts turning to leave.
Mikado's aim is a little off and he starts forward too fast, so it's really not so much of a kiss as it is a crashing of two mouths. But he adjusts quickly and it turns soft and Masaomi is perfectly still.
There's just a flick of tongue—
Mikado sharply pulls back.
"Blergh!"
He wipes furiously at his mouth and for a second Masaomi is pretty hurt, then the towels in the sink catch his eye—
Oh.
Masaomi doubles over laughing, tears welling in his eyes. He laughs so hard that he gives up on standing and just flops onto the ground, gasping between fits of laughter. Mikado looks down at him, mortified, while Masaomi waves his hand in his friend's general direction.
"Y-you…you saw me but you…!" He doesn't have enough air between laughing to say much more. Mikado just buries his face in his hands groaning.
Eventually his laughing dies down and the room goes quiet; His stomach hurts a little, still not quite settled, but he's feeling pretty content on the floor.
Mikado shifts from foot to foot.
"… can you stay a little longer?"
Masaomi closes his eyes. Whatever plans he'd had were pretty much up in smoke at this point.
There was no point in avoiding it now.
Or at least, he doesn't really feel like it anymore.
"Yeah."
It's quiet for a little longer, Masaomi still lying on the floor, until Mikado starts puttering around the kitchen. There's a click of the stove being flicked on and finally Masaomi forces himself up and heads to Mikado's tiny bathroom. He grabs a spare toothbrush from the cabinet and works on cleaning up his mouth; the taste of stale vomit finally getting to him.
When he's finished and leaves the bathroom there's already teapot on the stove and Mikado is pulling out a small table from the closet to the middle of the room. Mikado tries to subtly avoid making direct eye-contact with him. He doesn't comment on it, sitting down at the table. Mikado sits across from him.
There's a tension in the air again, as the sit in silence, waiting for the pot to boil. But now, Masaomi thinks, it feels a lot more like anticipation then uncomfortable.
When they both have their tea, it is Masaomi who finally speaks.
"Soooo… do you normally assault people's faces like that?"
Mikado's pinks a little, frowning. Masamoi's snickers behind his cup.
"… What happened, Masaomi?"
He sets down his tea, sighing.
"Hmmm that depends, what are you referring to?"
His friend's frown deepens. He gestures vaguely to his front door.
"… I was having a night jog and I decided to come visit… you…?" Masaomi mutters weakly. Maybe he's not as ready to talk about this as he thought he was.
Mikado looks down at his cup, fiddling with it.
"Did… it have to do with earlier today?"
Masaomi doesn't answer; it's not exactly the reason, but it's not completely unrelated.
Mikado fidgets.
"Is it why you've been avoiding me?"
It stings to hear it out loud.
"… it might have something to do with, yeah."
Again, not exactly the whole truth, but it's not completely wrong either. He's not ready to talk about Izaya, or Saki, or his dreams, but he finds that he can talk about this at least. It's enough to satisfy Mikado for the moment, at least, and it's almost enough for him too. Mikado just sort of nods to himself taking a small sip of tea.
It would be nice if that could be the end of it, but there's still something that pulls at Masaomi's anxious thoughts. He finishes off his cup and sets it down. He prepares himself for the worst.
"Mikado… you didn't kiss me because you felt like you had to, did you? To make me feel better?"
He throws Masaomi an offended look.
"No! I… after earlier… I wanted to know what it was like."
He quiets and glances away.
Masaomi leans his elbow on the table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.
"… well, was it everything you dreamed of?"
Mikado clucks his tongue irritably.
"No, it tasted pretty gross," Masaomi starts to laugh, "But I want to try it again."
He stops laughing. Masaomi stares curiously at his friend, who stares back at him.
"Okay."
He adjusts so he's on his knees, bracing his hands on the table. He leans forward over the table until he's hovering in front of Mikado, close enough to feel his breath across his lips.
Mikado leans forward and catches his mouth. He hums slightly, tilting his head so the slide together more comfortably. He feels a hand gliding past his cheek and up into his hair. It's warm and soft and honestly Masaomi thinks maybe he's actually dreaming because this is far too good to be real.
He pulls back and Mikado exhales, eyes glowing. There's this sort of mystified look on his face and Masaomi feels much the same.
"… so what about that one?"
Mikado's hand is still buried in his hair, warm.
"I liked it."
"I like you."
"… let's try again."
Masaomi doesn't need to be told again; he quickly presses his lips against Mikado's, hastily shoving the table between them out of his way. He hears their cups clatter to the floor; his cup was mostly empty anyway and probably Mikado's too so who cares. Right now all he knows is that Mikado's tugging at his hair and trying tongue again and at some point the worst day ever turned into the best day ever and some spilled tea isn't gonna ruin it for him.
Later, when Mikado has passed out and he's turning out the lights, Masaomi reflects.
"I think I like you too, Masaomi."
He's feeling good right now.
Not everything is okay, though.
He still doesn't think he can talk about Izaya, about before Mikado came here. The real reason why he tried so hard to strangle their friendship. And he doesn't know how or why Mikado was talking to Izaya.
But as he settles down next to his not-strictly-friend, and curls against Mikado back, he thinks this is enough for the moment.
He thinks about his dirty socks and his shoes still sitting at home.
At the very least he knows, if need be, he'll come running.
