Sleep clawed at the edges of his eyes and his eyelids felt like they were suddenly made of lead. He was aching to the bone and quite frankly, he could easily fall asleep right here on the uncomfortable train seat.
The familiar name of the station rang through the train and Fuji struggled to his feet, clinging to the metal bars as he stumbled his way to the door. At least the train was mostly empty so that he didn’t get too many funny looks.
His weary feet trod the route to Takashi’s apartment on automatic whilst the rest of Fuji concentrated on staying conscious. He knew that it wasn’t a long distance to Takashi’s from the station, but it felt like hours before he found himself at his front door.
There was no answer for a while after he knocked and Fuji was beginning to fear that Takashi was staying the night at his family’s house when the door swung open. Fuji caught a glimpse of Takashi’s worried face before he collapsed into his arms. Takashi lifted him easily and carried him inside, sitting him carefully down on the threadbare sofa. Fuji sunk into it as Takashi bustled around, doing something -Fuji was too tired to care.
“What happened, Fujiko?” Takashi asked, appearing in front of him to dab carefully at Fuji’s grazed cheek and split lip. Fuji was sure he looked a mess (his left eye stung and he was sure there would be a bruise there), but he would take care of that in the morning, for now, he was quite content to sit whilst Takashi fussed over him.
“I got in a fight,” Fuji replied, his voice was barely audible and he didn’t have the energy to change that. Takashi heard him though. “You should have seen the other guys.”
“Guys?” Takashi asked, sounding thoroughly worried.
“It’s fine,” Fuji sighed, “I’m just tired…. I think I had too much to drink.”
“Wait here,” Takashi said and Fuji wondered how he expected Fuji to move an inch from the sofa. He returned with a pint glass of water. “Drink this,” he ordered.
Fuji’s unsteady grip had to be helped by Takashi, but, eventually, Fuji managed to drink all of it.
“What was the fight about?” Takashi asked. He sat down next to Fuji and wrapped an arm around him. Glad for the new, muscular pillow of Takashi, shoulder, Fuji sighed contentedly.
“I don’t know,” Fuji admitted, “I think they wanted to mug me. They didn’t take anything.”
“You should have called me. I could have picked you up.”
“I couldn’t wait. I just wanted to see you.”
Takashi squeezed him, “let’s go to bed.”
Fuji hummed in agreement. “Carry me, Takashi.”
“Of course, Fujiko.”