A door creaked open, and as Yuki opened his eyes, a thin slice of dim light from the hallway intruded on his pitch-black bedroom. He sighed, hearing slow apprehensive footsteps on the carpet, and wondered if Shuichi was brave enough to approach him in his sleep. Yuki had a certain tendency to react violently toward anyone who disturbed his unusually light slumber.
The footsteps stopped, and the sheets rustled and tugged a little toward the opposite side of the bed. Yuki rolled over to see the hot-pink-haired rising pop star curling into a tight ball next to him, and almost smiled. Almost. His arrogance and heavy necessity for solitude overrode his sensitivity.
"Why-"
"Yuki, please," Shuichi interrupted him instantly, his voice tight and a little ragged. "I don't feel good."
Sighing impatiently, Yuki forced himself to quell the emotions that made him want to pull the boy close and hold him until they both fell asleep. "What's wrong?" he asked irritably.
"My head hurts, and my stomach feels queasy. I think I have the flu." By nature, Shuichi was melodramatic, but even if he was overacting, Yuki could tell that the boy really did feel ill.
"Take some medicine for it, and go back to sleep on the couch."
"I did, it's not helping."
"Why the hell are you in here, then? You're going to give your disease to me!" he said, forcing himself to sound genuinely angry.
A moment passed, and Shuichi spoke. "Please. Yuki. Just this once?"
His bright blue eyes met Yuki's gray ones, and Yuki melted inside. "All right." Came the stiff, but affirmative reply. "You open for Nittle Grasper tomorrow, don't you? You'd better be able to sing."
An audible groan resonated from the figure beside Yuki. "Don't remind me."
Raising his eyebrows, the older man subtly expressed his surprise. "You love Nittle Grasper, though." He put his knowledge in harsh context when Shuichi opened his eyes wide in adoration at the fact that Yuki knew his favorite band. "You listen to that mundane nonsense all the time. Believe me, I hear it all the way in my study, with the door closed."
Shuichi blushed. "But they're so good," he said quietly.
'What's going on here?' Yuki asked himself. 'The kid's never quiet, and get him going on Nittle Grasper, and they'll hear him a mile down the street. Maybe it's because he's sick-" he paused in his thought process as the truth of the situation hit him. 'Or maybe he feels sick because he's nervous.'
"You're not afraid to play with them, are you?"
"No!" Pause. "My stomach's getting worse."
Yuki almost straight up told him to get out before he puked on the bed, but he simply couldn't. Sighing and inwardly cursing his conscience, he pulled the covers up around Shuichi's shoulders. "Lie still. I'll be right back."
He left his warm bed with the utmost reluctance, wincing as he entered the kitchen and his feet hit the cold floor. Carefully folding a towel and soaking it in warm water, he mulled over the situation. 'You're being too nice. He's sixteen, he can take care of himself.' Wringing out most of the water out of the cloth so it wouldn't drip, Yuki's conscience kicked in. 'Sixteen is still young, and everyone needs to be taken care of now and then. Besides, what harm can this one occasion do? 'Just this once,' right?' He couldn't admit to himself that he really wanted this more often.
Returning to the room, he found Shuichi sitting on the side of the bed, dangling his skinny bare legs over the side, his hands resting on his knees. He looked up as Yuki entered, and gave a sheepish half-smile.
"I thought I told you to lie down," Yuki said harshly, placing the cloth on Shuichi's forehead and lying down beside him. One hand absently caressed his stomach beneath the shirt originally designed for a girl that barely covered his navel.
"Thank you, Yuki," Shuichi mumbled into the pillow.
"I don't think you're sick, you know." Yuki replied abruptly. "I think you're nervous about singing tomorrow."
Shuichi remained silent for a long time. "Are you going to be there?"
"Do you want me to be?" Yuki always told him he wouldn't go to his concerts, but he went to every one, standing in the back so the boy couldn't see him.
He heard Shuichi sniffle, and knew that he was going to cry. "Of course I want you to go. I always ask you to go." Yuki began massaging his chest so he would calm down.
'As much as I try to pull away from him, I still know where to touch him. How to hurt him, please him, comfort him. Why?' he thought, almost angrily at himself. 'Why am I wasting so much time and energy on the brat? I should have known I'd get attached.'
But Yuki dropped the thoughts and conversation in favor of sleep. "Get some rest; you'll need your energy for tomorrow." He moved his hand back down to Shuichi's navel, and let it fall still. Gentle, rhythmic snoring a short while later assured him that the boy was fast asleep, and Yuki curled up beside him, enjoying the warmth of Shuichi's body next to his own.