Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jakurai had a long day or that was what he felt when he sat next to his friends, Hifumi and Doppo who he had invited to get dinner at some place next to an animate in Shibuya. The weight over his shoulders felt harder to bear since the encounter with Fling posse, it seemed to fill him with unnecessary feelings.

― Open your mouth, Doppo! ― the doctor heard, looking at them sharing a spoon of ice cream.

―Hifumi, where on public…― said the other, reminding him he could make the other people feel uncomfortable.

―Who cares? I’m just feeding my cute, cuuuute boyfriend! ― the blonde replied with a smirk, giving his mate a kiss on his nose.

―…You both bring me good memories…― their leader smiled softly, his smile usually pacific, bursting with warmth and peace, had hints of what they could say, melancholy. ― I feel like I’m really getting old these days, this remembrance makes me feel pathetic. ― for something that happened years ago, it could look stupid; but for someone as Jakurai, it was the first time, he had allowed himself to wish for something for him.

―⁂―

Sunlight showered his face with its warmth, it was morning already and he was alone on the bed again, wrapped with two blankets. Saturday means rest on his head, but his partner has another trail of ideas on mind. He softly tried to move to take some clothes but he pulled his hair by accident and that thrown him again to the comfy bed; Ramuda had told him that his hair was a problem when it was down, it was more of an annoyance than a help, it was useless, but he grew up to treasure it with time, he knew that his boyfriend got used to pulling it whenever he wanted something, like a kiss, sometimes to tell him something through his ear, whenever they had sex he liked to pull it more and more, until he got used, until Jakurai started to like it.

Right now, it was something to take care of, so he tied it with a pencil, making a messed bun and he moved freely to take his boxers and his shirt from yesterday.

Walking through the hall, he found his objective, a little ball of blankets, sewing at the sofa while hearing a program on the TV about unsolved cases of murder. Jakurai didn’t stop there, he gone directly to the kitchen, made some coffee and cut a generous piece of cake.

Carefully, he sat next to him, leaving the plate, a fork and a mug with cappuccino next to him, he grabbed his own mug on his hand and then leaned to peck Ramuda’s cheek.

― Good morning, I think you forgot having breakfast again.

―…Morning ― he yawned, leaving the sewn pieces away from him. ― I’m sooooooooooooo tired, but I had to work on this first, I can eat whenever I want to, but I need to end this for this Tuesday… don't nag me. ―He lied on Jakurai’s legs with the plate on his hands, cutting with his fork and stuffing his mouth with the cake.

―I didn’t mean to nag you, but you won’t get energies to sew if you don’t eat.

―That’s why I have you. ―he replied― fed me… I barely have energies to move since yesterday, because someone decided to fuck me so hard and so deep that I thought I broke my hip when I woke up this morning.

The taller almost choked on his own mug, coughing a bit and grabbing the fork for him, cutting slowly a piece of the sweet and putting it on his mouth.

― I still remember someone moaning on my ear ‘It’s not enough, fill me until I get numb, fuck me so hard that I don’t have to think anymore’ ― he said in a soft voice, looking at him while raising his eyebrows.

―Wha? What are y-you talking about? Who was that whore? I would never say something like that ― he complained, with red cheeks― are you cheating me? I will cut your dick with my cutter if you dare to.

―I wouldn’t cheat you. ― Jakurai said, caressing his hair. The pink haired boy just showed him his tongue.

―You better don’t do it, I’m the only one who can use ‘bitch speech’ with you. It’s a right, it’s written over our connivance contract.

The famous connivance contract was a colorful thread of post-it notes on Ramuda’s fridge, all was in purple and pink colors, showing whoever who made the rule in that way, some examples were:

9/ Purple: Not lying.

3/Pink: Don’t nag over getting diabetes for eating too many sweets.

7/Purple: Respect each other’s works and their schedule.

8/Pink: Only ugly and old nurses are allowed to work with you.

2/Purple: Don’t act fake around me.

1/Pink: Put yourself first.

And they would add always one when they had a fight or something annoying them too much. Jakurai hoped that they wouldn’t get his fridge filled with notes, almost all pink notes, Ramuda always used to find something to complain about but for him, it wasn’t that easy, he used to put notes when it was something really important to him.

They had a shower together and moved to meet Ichiro and Samatoki on Ichiro’s place. They always would get a meeting at the end of the month to talk about their division and their individual problems.

Jakurai had fun, he wouldn’t get bored, not a single day while looking at his companions.

Ramuda was there, always laughing, pretty and delicate, but very manly if he tried to. He knew his boyfriend was someone special, twisted, sometimes violent and stunning, but that made him so interesting.

―

―…Doctor!

―Uh?

―Doctor, we were asking you if you’re okay, you started to space out. ― Doppo pointed, with a face of worry.

―Your ice cream is melting too, I didn’t know you were a fan of the ice cream soup! ―Hifumi laughed softly, changing the mood.

―Oh, I’m sorry, I just started to remember…something.

―What was it? ― Doppo questioned, a bit curious.

―Old memories…

 ―⁂―

Ramuda was worried.

Even if he didn’t want it to show up, he was staring silently the ceiling, his body sprawling like a puppet without his strands, he wasn’t in the mood to move or something else than that.

Fourth hours had passed and even if he tried sewing something else to calm himself to not try to sew Jakurai eyes and mouth instead, he wasn’t calm at all; he would hear him, that wasn’t going to stay like this, he would definitively pay!

Another hour had passed and the pink-haired boy heard the front door closing. He grabbed a hair band and tied his hair in a low ponytail, it was growing so long that he thought it was getting annoying to work, he never got to understand how Jakurai would still carry that mass of hair without getting rid of it.

He didn’t move, but Jakurai wasn’t going to his room instead. He thought he was in the bathroom, maybe the kitchen; he waited a bit more, but then he jumped to the floor and gone to find him. What he found was his partner sitting at the front of the door, his arm bleeding and he was so much pale that he thought he was agonizing right on that moment.

―…JAKURAI! ― he screamed in desperation, running to hold his face― WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!

The man just blinked a bit, confused, like he didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, muttering some incompressible words. Without delaying his attention anymore, he moved his body to the bathroom, where he sat him next to the tub and started to pull his white coat, drenched in blood.

He took his sweater off too, finding the place where a big cut positioned on his arm, it looked swollen and with a weird color, like if they used a blade with some kind of weird substance. Ramuda learned how to give someone first aid since he started to live with the doctor; not because he liked it, but it could be useful, an example was this kind of accident.

―I told you it was stupid, I told you to not go!―Ramuda said, taking a big bag with first aid utensils and he took physiological serum and a gauze before washing his hands―… if you kept helping that kids, you would only get hurt…―he dipped a side of the gauze on the serum and started to clean outside the hole, then he squeezed the serum inside the cut―they’re tugs! They got big enemies! That’s why they always get hurt and get hunted like they were animals! It’s what they deserve!

Jakurai groaned in pain, feeling like if the pain made him remain on his senses.

―…T-That’s not an excuse to leave them alone…they need help, someone to save them and give them shelter, that’s why they steal…―he explained, feeling like his whole arm was burning. ―One of them was going to get murdered by a man, his blade had a strange smell around it. ―that was what he could remember.

Ramuda moved his arm to sniff it and he found the smell of garlic stronger than his blood.

―Probably they planned to stab their chest…the garlic is used to make the stab wounds to get infected and it doesn’t heal at all. ― he had some knowledge about it since he worked as a designer sometimes for some bad people with too much money.  ―If they stabbed you, you would be dead on a week without a good attention, you damn asshole. ― Ramuda pressed furiously his wound with the gauze, causing him to scream again. ― Shut up! You don’t even deserve this, I should kick you out for messing up my fluffy carpet with your damn blood.

―…I’m sorry.

―…I’m glad it was just a cut… ― Ramuda replied, moving his hand to look at the cut, it wasn’t bleeding anymore. ―I’m going to stitch you, so try to apply the anesthesia on your arm, I don’t want to hear your grown ass yelling for the pain.

It wasn’t the first time that Jakurai would get hurt to protect and save others. He used to think that it was charming and princely at the beginning; but at this point, Ramuda wasn't able to understand anymore, how much he had to bear with this situation? Jakurai not being able to reject anyone who would come to search his help sucked. He was the only one to bear with the consequences.

What was bad? What was good? How could he tell? He was sure that Jakurai didn’t mean something bad at all, but he was tired…pissed off. Even if he promised to help to get second-hand clothes for Jakurai to handle to that kids, even if for this time, he was doing something for others instead of himself, something felt off. Inside he always knew, that he was changing more and more; pitifully it wasn’t something that he enjoyed.

He loved him, he was sure of it, it was a nice and real feeling, but it was enough to carry with the burden of the anxiety filling his head every time that he had to go out? Could he just accept it and live with the fear of losing him?

That night he spent some hours wiping the sweat of Jakurai’s face. He had a huge fever and nothing looked like work to make it get better, he was worried, scared and thoughtful.

―

The pink haired boy moved his hands through his hair. It was short now, that meant that he wasn’t dreaming anymore, he wasn’t at that time any longer. Sometimes he barely could remember himself, how he was on the past? How did he look? He had just pictures but he couldn’t remember anymore how he felt when he was looking himself at the mirror, he was just a tiny piece of what he used to be.

―…Ramuda? ― someone called him, he recognized Gentaro’s voice waking him up like a lullaby. His leader felt something wet on his cheek, what recognized as water, what caused him to rub his eyes with his sleeve quickly.

―…Awh, Gentawooo~ Hewoo, I didn’t expect you so early, I was taking a nice nap.

―It doesn’t look like that… you were crying, isn’t it? ― the brunet pointed, a little curious about what his friend was dreaming about.

―I wasn’t crying! I just yawned on my dream.―he excused himself, obviously lying. Gentaro saw through his lie but he didn’t ask anything further.

―Yeah, sure…Dice is waiting for us outside, I lost a bet so we’re eating pizza together.

―Yay! Pizza! ― he yelled childishly, taking his friend’s hand to pull him to the entrance.

―…Are you sure that you’re okay?

―Yes, don’t make me repeat myself, I’m fine, I didn’t mean to worry, so stop asking, I don’t want Dice to suspect about me.

―…Ah, I understand. ― whenever he used his tone, the author looked taken aback by his words.

Gentaro would never know who was lying more between them, also he wouldn’t be able to tell if Ramuda would do this to lie to himself or to lie to others; but this time he would keep his silence, not because he was scared, but because Ramuda was interesting.

He was sure he would be able to relate thousands of stories and reasons why Ramuda had that oath about acting like an airhead, an interminable source of inspiration.