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Yuya’s never been the type of person to pass up an opportunity to pester someone into talking to him if he recognizes them. Typically, they’re able to hit it off quickly, thanks to Yuya’s...unique personality, and if they’re not interested in talking to him? It’s no skin off his nose; he can always find someone else to talk to.
However, Keicho Nijimura is different.
Not once before has Yuya had someone constantly shoot his conversations down like Keicho does--the worst part is that it bothers Yuya, how Keicho won’t even take the time to just open his mouth and say something other than, “Shut up.”
It certainly doesn’t help Yuya’s bafflement when the two of them end up sharing a hospital room while they recover from their respective injuries.
If there’s one thing that Yuya Fungami should be remembered for, it should be for his persistence. He’s going to get the elder Nijimura brother to hold a conversation with him, even if it’s just a minute long.
No matter how annoying he has to be to get the other to talk.
Being a nuisance is much easier on days like this, when the sun is shining brightly and the nurses aren’t being complete moodkillers. Yuya is pushing the last of his food around his plate in boredom; his “roommate” is gazing out of the window nearest his bed, surely longing for the day that he can be up and walking around again to bask in the sun’s warmth and the comfort of being away from Yuya.
Not that that matters at this point. He’s stuck with Yuya for a while.
“Hey. Do you want my chocolate pudding?”
When Keicho looks away from the window to make eye contact with Yuya, the raven-haired man waves his pudding cup. Keicho says nothing, which prompts Yuya to huff indignantly. “I bet you want it. I heard your brother talking to you the other day, and I know he said that it’s your favorite.”
Keicho gives the other a scowl. “No, I don’t want it. Leave me alone.”
Yuya sniffs the air. “Liar,” he crows, and he waggles his brows with a grin. “C’mon, it’s not gonna affect your figure, if that’s what you’re worried about. Take it.”
“No.”
“You’re so boring.”
“That’s why you should leave me alone.” Keicho returns his gaze to the window, his scowl unmoving.
In response, Yuya petulantly throws the pudding cup at the other, who grabs it without looking away from the sight in front of him. Yuya whistles lowly, impressed. “Damn, how good is your peripheral vision? You probably don’t have any blind spots, huh?”
Nothing from Keicho, except for perhaps a twitch of the brow. Yuya rolls his eyes but presses on, undeterred by Keicho’s stonelike demeanor. “You know, your recovery is going to be a lot rougher if you don’t try talking to people. I’ve seen the way you’ve been interacting with your brother, and you won’t--”
“How I talk to Okuyasu is not a concern of yours. I highly suggest that you keep to yourself, else I prolong your hospital stay.” Keicho’s voice is soft, laced with a threatening undertone. Most of all, though, he just sounds...tired, like he’s gotten that comment a lot or something. It shocks Yuya, actually. “So, once again, I’m telling you to leave me alone. We could be the last two people left on the planet, and I still would not want to talk to you. Do yourself a favor, and forget that I share a room with you.”
Ouch. That isn’t what Yuya had been expecting to hear. It stings, enough so to shut Yuya up for the time being.
An uneasy silence settles over the room, and the feeling remains until it’s lights out.
Yuya, while unhappy that this initial attempt to get the Nijimura to talk to him for more than just a passing insult, isn’t surprised. He’ll have to think of other ways to get the other to at least notice him in a positive way.
Nevertheless, this first effort is not entirely a failure.
When Yuya wakes up for a glass of water in the middle of the night, Yuya’s greeted with a peculiar sight; the pudding cup is open and empty, sitting on Keicho’s bedside table.
~*~
Keicho’s incident with Akira left his body mottled with scars.
Almost ninety percent of his body was left scorched by the thousands of volts running through the wires. Multiple surgeries and skin grafts had been required to save Keicho’s life, and even then, Keicho was fortunate to live.
Yuya wonders often if Keicho wishes that the event had killed him. There have been several times where Yuya has been woken up by Keicho’s agonized groans of pains, the noises only stopping when the nurses rush into the room to administer more painkillers to the elder Nijimura brother.
The one time that Yuya asks why Keicho didn’t have Okuyasu’s friend come heal him is the last time that Yuya brings up Josuke. Even the mention of his name has Keicho snarling and spitting derisive comments about the teen.
It must be a pride issue, then. Yuya could honestly see that.
He has yet to get Keicho to hold a conversation with him, and it’s beginning to wear down on him.
“Yuyaaa, you’re not saying anything.”
A whine snaps Yuya out of his thoughts, and he’s met with three concerned gazes. It takes him a moment to offer the other three a dazzling grin, and he waves their worries away. “Ah, apologies, my darlings. I’ve gotten to be a bit scatterbrained since I’ve been in the hospital, hm?”
Akemi huffs and leans over to dab a damp cloth along Yuya’s forehead, a few strands of her red hair dangling in front of her face. “You’ve always been a little scatterbrained, baby.”
“Be nice!”
“I am, Yoshie!”
“Girls, come on. We don’t want to bother our roommate, do we?”
The three girls send a sheepish look to Keicho--he’s staring out of the window again--and collectively murmur an apology. As expected, the other man doesn’t respond.
Yoshie and Akemi affectionately lean against each other, a silent agreement that they had forgiven each other for the unnecessary outbursts. Gently, Reiko pats their backs, looking a bit proud.
Yuya isn’t sure what he would’ve done if his girls hadn’t been with him every step of the way in his recovery. Sure, they’re a handful, but they’re what keeps him going throughout such a frustrating and lengthy process.
It pains Yuya in a way he can’t describe when he sees how positively lonely Keicho appears. Okuyasu can only offer Keicho so much comfort, Yuya thinks.
While his girls and a nurse are helping him through his daily mobility training, Yuya begins to concoct a plan in his head. It’s simple, but hopefully, it’ll be effective. Keicho deserves to feel appreciated, even if he doesn’t know where the gifts come from. The thought puts a stupid grin on his face. Not even the soreness in Yuya’s limbs is enough to put a damper on his good mood at the end of the day.
When Yoshie, Reiko, and Akemi are getting ready to leave the hospital to return to their house, Yuya whispers to them his idea, and Reiko has to softly smack Yoshie’s arm when she lets out an excited squeal that causes Keicho to shift in his sleep.
~*~
“Where’s all this stuff come from, bro?”
Okuyasu’s mouth is full of food when the question occurs, his words muffled and messy. However, Keicho seems to understand (Yuya does as well, but it’s a miracle), and the elder Nijimura fixes his brother with an inquiring look.
“I had been assuming that you and your…friends had been the ones sending these items.”
Two additional bedside tables had to be brought in to accommodate the sudden influx of flowers, candies, and cards. Each gift had been unsigned, so Keicho clearly doesn’t know who the sender is.
Or senders, in this case.
“I got good news ‘n bad news: naw, it ain’t us. That’s the bad news. The good news ‘s that I knew people liked ya more than what ya thought, Keicho! Dunnit feel good?” Okuaysu pokes at the food in the styrofoam box, and his face contorts with concentration, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth.
Yuya has a small smile on his face while he watches the two interact. Reiko, Akemi, and Yoshie are talking among themselves, occasionally sending looks towards the brothers and giggling quietly--not out of malice but out of amusement at the brothers’ bafflement. Throughout the past couple of weeks, nurses have been in and out of their shared room only to drop off gifts that a “secret admirer” (the nurses’ words) had addressed to Keicho. At one point, a nurse had asked Yuya if he was jealous of the presents, to which he responded to by laughing and waving the nurse off.
The ghost of a smile flashes over Keicho’s lips, and the joy that fills Yuya at that moment is addicting. “It certainly doesn’t feel terrible.”
“There ya go! Ain’t no reason ta go around actin’ like no one likes ya. D’ya want some of my pasta? Might help with yer aches, dunno…”
Okuyasu continues to ramble, and during that period of time, Yuya and Keicho lock eyes. Yuya’s heart leaps into his throat when Keicho gives him a knowing smirk.
Hours pass, and as the sun begins to dip below the horizon to give way to the endless night sky, a nurse comes in to shoo the four visitors out of the room. Yuya’s girls all give him a kiss on the cheek and coo well-wishes on a good night’s rest before hurrying out of the room; Okuyasu, Yuya observes through the corner of his eye (he doesn’t want to disturb the moment by being obvious), fondly bumps his head against Keicho’s before mumbling a goodbye and shuffling out of the room.
Yuya is busy shuffling his pillows around when he hears Keicho clear his throat. “I didn’t think that you had that sort of money, Fungami.”
“Why, because I look like I belong to a gang?”
A genuine laugh bursts from Keicho, and it’s so surprising to Yuya that he grins. Keicho shakes his head. “I figured that you only really spent your money on your girls, is all.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Should I be?”
It’s Yuya’s turn to chuckle. “No. In fact, my girls spent their own money on you as well. I just gave them extra when they needed it,” he replies, then he shrugs. “They like you. What can I say?”
Keicho’s oddly silent for a few beats. “It would be safe to assume that you like me as well, then. They wouldn’t go out of their way to do that for just anyone nor would they do it unprompted.”
Yuya splutters, cheeks growing red. “O-Oi, don’t be putting words in my mouth!” He gripes.
“I don’t need to put words in your mouth when your actions tell me enough of what I need to know.” The smirk on Keicho’s face pushes a scoff from Yuya, who pointedly looks away with a pout.
“Your brother never mentioned that you were a psychic.”
An amused snort escapes Keicho. “I’m not. You’re just incredibly easy to read.”
Yuya makes a mental note of that.
They lapse into an easy silence briefly; Yuya observes Keicho gazing at the various items surrounding his bedside, and he feels his heart give an odd flutter when the expression on Keicho’s face turns soft.
He looks deep in thought when Yuya finally speaks up again. He ignores the way his voice has an odd tremble to it now. “I hope you don’t hate me as much anymore.”
“I never really hated you, Yuya.” Keicho’s eyes flicker up from a bundle of flowers--unfortunately, they’re beginning to wilt--to give Yuya a quirked brow. “You’re a bit hard to deal with at times, is all.”
“You know what? I’ll take it,” Yuya proclaims, and the grin he receives from Keicho is better than the thought of ever getting out of this godforsaken hospital.
He has more questions for Keicho, of course--one being about when Yuya can take him out and another regarding Keicho’s feelings toward his girls--but they can wait until tomorrow.
Right now, Yuya isn’t concerned with speaking.
He’s much too busy watching Keicho fiddle with a fresh sunflower. Yuya is content to bask in the glory of his plan actually working for once (much to his relief).
The image of Keicho tenderly rubbing one of the sunflower’s petals between his thumb and forefinger is what lulls Yuya to sleep that night.