Work Text:
Tachihara remembered closing his eyes.
The evening had been normal. Black Lizard had held their shared dinner (it was times like those when they felt, oddly enough, like a family) then split off to their respective corners. Jinko had “found” himself in Tachihara’s room and the better half of the night was spent playing video games (ranging from Portal 2 to Mortal Kombat, and whatever else was on the shelf). They fought, they won, they lost, they wasted away in a virtual landscape, playing until the clock struck twelve. When it finally came time to call it a day Jinko didn’t leave, as perhaps he should have. Instead he crawled into Tachihara’s bed, and Tachihara never said no. The television was turned off, the console shut down, and they laid together.
It was peaceful for a time. They both fell asleep, that Tachihara knew, because while he had watched time tick by Jinko had begun to snore (gently enough to be bearable). At some point he fell under too, and it was quiet. Comfortable. The two of them, together, curled up within each other, in silent agreement that perhaps this was love.
They were dumb kids, but they were dumb kids having a good time.
Some nights Tachihara thought about how nicely Jinko fit into his arms, curled up against his chest, face pressed into the nook of his neck. Jinko was always clingy, close, he’d wound his arms any which way, intertwine their legs and make a mess of the sheets, tossing pillows off the bed and kicking blankets into the corner. Tachihara knew he was getting spoiled because nights alone were unbearable, cold and quiet. If Jinko wasn’t crawling over him to turn off the alarm or snoring ever gently in his ear, then it didn’t feel like home.
Maybe this was kiddy love, but it was love nonetheless.
Tachihara remembered when he woke up next because his eyes had wandered to the clock first and it read 03:32.
Not quite when they were expected to rise, in fact it was a bit too early, so why was Jinko shifting around so much? He heard muttering and felt movement, and when he looked to the man in his arms he saw distress. Sweat draped his forehead, pain marked his expression (brow pinched, lips curled down), the muttered breaths were not of good morning but of get away . He looked to be having some awful dream, some terrible nightmare, trapped inside his slumber.
“Jinko?” Tachihara sat up, shaking his boyfriend by the shoulders. “Jinko?” The mutters grew tersed, strained, everything about him was uncomfortable. “Jinko, wake up!”
Perhaps trying to shake him awake was a bad idea because next thing Tachihara knew he was on the floor, knocked off the bed with one hard elbow to the chest. It slammed the air out of his lungs and for a moment he wondered if his ribs were broken, but the concern was temporary. He scrambled to his feet and shook Jinko again, wholly disregarding the potential harm. “Jinko, wake up bud, come on!”
“G-get away! Let go of me!”
There was more pushing and shoving and swinging and throwing. It was after he ended up on the floor a second time that Tachihara realized this wasn’t going to work. He got to his feet and scrambled out the door, down the hall to the shared bathroom. He dumped the cup holding toothbrushes onto the counter and filled it with water. Then he was rushing back to his room, hardly paying attention to the door down the hall cracked open just a tad (they must’ve woken Gin up). He ran in and dumped the water on Jinko’s head.
Jinko gasped and shot up in bed, eyes wide and darting across the room, frantic, panicked. He was heaving, sweating, everything about him uneasy, gaze foggy, eyes glazed over, pupils dilated. The bed shifted beneath him, he looked up, and there was Tachihara. A wave of calm rolled over him next. Reality set in. He was here, in Tachihara’s room, safe and sound and far from harm’s way. His boyfriend was with him, Gin was a room over, if anyone was here to hurt him then–
“Tachi?”
“I’m here.” Tachihara offered a hand and Jinko took it with shaky fingers. “You’re alright.” He smiled, smiled bright “Seems like you had a pretty bad dream.”
“. . . yeah.”
“Need a drink?” Jinko blinked. His hair was still dripping wet, the pillow and blankets were both soaked as was his shirt. The culprit (the cup) had been left on the nightstand.
“Was that a joke?”
Tachihara chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I’m serious.” He stood, and pulled Jinko to his feet. “C’mon, let’s go get you some juice.”
“I don’t need any–hey!” Jinko didn’t have much of a choice as he was swept off his feet.
“We’re getting juice, let’s go!”
Tachihara stepped out into the hallway, and noted that Gin's door had shut. Jinko held on, one hand in Tachihara’s shirt and the other around his shoulders as he was carried into the kitchen, leaving a trail of water behind them. Drip drip drip. They’d have to handle the wet mess first. Tachihara put him down on the kitchen counter, grabbed the hand rag off the rack, and rubbed Jinko’s hair with it. By the time he was done it was frizzy and messy, but at least it was a bit more dry.
He smiled and wrapped the towel around Jinko’s shoulders, accented by a pat on the cheek. “There, good as new.”
“My shirt’s still wet, I’m gonna get a cold.” Jinko sniffled for emphasis, while Tachihara opened the fridge and grabbed the carton of orange juice.
“Sorry, you wouldn’t wake up.” He grabbed a cup out of the cabinet too.
“I was having a moment.” Tachihara uncapped the carton and poured juice into the cup.
“It was a really long moment.” He sealed the carton and put it away, the cup in hand.
“I was just–” Jinko’s voice caught in his throat as he was cut off by a kiss, Tachihara’s lips on his. His eyes widened then fluttered shut. He leaned into the feeling and it was a comfort. Secure. Safe. A reassurance that he was awake, alive, and well. The nightmare had happened but it was just a figment of the past, a spur of hazardous imagination. He’d be okay. They broke the kiss and their eyes met, suddenly so close yet so far. They'd be okay.
“Uh,” Tachihara began, cup in hand. “I got you some juice.”