LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC

Title: Sanguine

Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)

CHAPTER 10

"No…no!" Rikuo gasped beside him, immediately rolling him to his knees. "No…you can't! Eichiro!" Kazahaya placed his hands flat on the floor, suddenly aware that this memory wouldn't be one he'd like to experience. At least not without Rikuo's first and foremost permission. "Eichiro!"

He'd barely slept, the older psychic thought worriedly. His boss hadn't checked on them, yet, either and it wasn't like the younger man to have nightmares so early. Unless…. Kazahaya bit his lip, flushing guiltily. Unless his talk with Rikuo earlier re-opened those wounds, gouged anew those memories, and brought it all back from a mind that tried desperately to suppress them. But, he realized, those wounds had never healed.

Rikuo had told him as much – that he saw the shadow of Toshiya wherever he was. This was why he dreaded living, breathing, even so much as greeting the day or evening from an eventful night's rest or afternoon nap. Because, Kazahaya thought with increasing horror, there were no such pleasantries where he used to be. There was the unconsciousness brought about by vicious abuse, and the rude awakening that only meant another day of pain.

Awakening was to stare into the face of the beast itself, and that beast wore Toshiya's face.

How did he ever survive?

Rikuo twisted beneath the overcoat, throwing it off in a frenzy that pooled cloth next to Kazahaya's knees. Instinctively, he jerked his hands back, away from the garment that once adorned his shoulders. If he touched it, he would be sprawled atop Rikuo, with little better to offer than his useless weight and the sheer alarm it would provoke. The taller boy writhed, long limbs skidding against the white hardness of concrete, as if trying to escape innumerable hands.

It was a sobering sight.

"Rikuo," he said, unsure of where to proceed. Rikuo could heal, but the process was already taxing his limits. He feared the onset of yet another headache, which could give him migraines in the long run if this kept up. Saiga-san must've felt this, Kazahaya tiredly mused. All without the aid of a couple pills; then again, aspirin would do little good against the intensity and frequency of how often these headaches came. "Rikuo…"

A leg lashed out, kicking at an invisible assailant that Kazahaya couldn't see. The shaking had gotten worse, and he moved back as Rikuo thrashed, as if drowning in nightmarish waters. "No…no," the boy moaned, and Kazahaya glimpsed the glassiness in those unseeing eyes as they stared at tormentors too brazen to care. They weren't here, he argued with himself, but he understood – a little too late, perhaps – what Rikuo meant. He could sense their presence, for Rikuo brought the fear, the shame, the very acknowledgment of what they've done to him, and the unflinching fact that they hurt him still right into Green Drugstore.

He eyed the blood on the floor, the broken bits of glass that shone dangerously near Rikuo's head, the stained shirt that wound around a straining torso, and wondered if Rikuo realized how closely his current state mirrored that of those in his memories. It was an accident – everything was – but the fact that Rikuo bled so often and didn't seem to register it struck him as deliberate. Even now, his partner wallowed in blood, caught in the throes of a past anguish.

Unless he misjudged himself, it almost seemed like…

"No!"

The scream ripped into his thoughts; tore the thread of his pondering away. Rikuo jerked spastically beside him, mouth open in a piercing cry. "No! You can't! You can't!" It disturbed Kazahaya at how the other's fingers clenched at his belly, at how the heels of his feet ground into the floor as if resisting terrible pain. The green irises were glazed, the redness of his mouth bright against a face wet with sweat, and crimson cloth scrunching as Rikuo's body buckled, jackknifing into itself. The shrunken shoulders trembled, sharp bones visible beneath the sweat-drenched shirt, and he noticed how convulsively Rikuo's hand dug into the exposed flesh of his midsection.

That was when the thoughts came back, unwelcome and horrible.

"Rikuo," he said, sidestepping the oversized coat, the blood, and the glass, "it's Kazahaya. No one's going to hurt you." Gently, he took a hold of that clawing hand, pulling it away from a stomach that already burned angrily with red welts. There were traces of rust beneath his nails – evidence of dried blood. He didn't know if they came from the wounds beforehand, or the new ones just recently scored. They didn't seem to be bleeding, but it was hard to tell. "Rikuo," he asked softly, to temper the tension with kindness, "I need you to sit up, please."

It was over.

He could feel it through the pressure in Rikuo's hand; at how the fingers curled around his, limp and weak. Kazahaya rubbed the sweat off his forehead, breathing a sigh of relief. As quickly as it occurred, it was over. He supposed he was getting used to it, especially after attending those nights when sleep wasn't an option for him, either. It was just the first time he'd seen Rikuo react as if physically attacked; the other times were out of pure panic.

He didn't know which one was worse.

"Rikuo," he said again, stressing his concern. "Please. I need you to sit up. You're bleeding." His skin was also clammy, uncomfortably cold whereas his hand burned. "Rikuo, please."

Rikuo couldn't see him – didn't want to see him, or have him read the depth of pain that undoubtedly lay behind those eyes. They were closed, lids drawn tight in a face that was already too thin for comfort. "I can't," that bleeding form said, lips shaping words that were mere whispers. "It hurts too much."

What the…?

"Rikuo?"

A feeble squeeze against his fingers, and he held on, not wanting to break contact. It seemed like every time they made progress, they were also forced to step back. "It hurts, Kazahaya." Rikuo's voice was hoarse, unbearably so. It reminded him of those weeks back, when even a sound was miraculous. Before all the screaming began that disrupted his nights and brought the shade of torment into their lives. Not Rikuo's, though – he was it, sadly enough. "Kazahaya…"

"Rikuo?"

"He's still here."

"No, he's not." Damn that bastard! "I am, Rikuo."

"I know." He felt the pressure on his hand ease, fingers slackening. "I can't…forget…" Before he could react, Rikuo's hand slipped out of his, falling to the floor with a quiet smack. Glancing quickly at Rikuo's waxen face, he shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around the unconscious boy's chest, hauling him up. Weeks ago, he wouldn't have been able to move the towering lug, so muscle-bound was he. The fact that he could now jarred him, with emotions that were indescribable.

It shouldn't be but it was. He couldn't deny it.

Propping Rikuo against the bed, Kazahaya scampered off towards the bathroom, where he grabbed a roll of bandages, filled a mug with water, and whipped a washcloth straight off the bar in rapid succession. It was just as well that the plumbing didn't break along with the lights or he'll be in trouble. He scrambled back to the room in even less time, kneeling and slamming the mug down so that water splashed out. He always was somewhat a klutz but for today, he'll ignore the self-jibing insult.

The brilliant white cloth quickly turned pink, then red. Most of the bleeding on Rikuo's face stemmed from a cut on his scalp, which he cleaned and hoped would scab over. He lost track of time, doing what he could to bring the other around. Wiping the sweat off didn't flicker those eyelids, so he proceeded to bandage those wounded fingers, wrapping the fabric tightly around the palm. No one ever taught him first aid, so if the results were a little off, it made sense. The cuts in Rikuo's side and the welts on his stomach were more serious, needing another trip back to replenish the water.

Thankfully, there were enough bandages for the both of them – not that he needed any.

As he cleansed and did a fool's fumbling with getting the gauze around an intensely thin abdomen, Kazahaya jogged his memory. Rikuo hadn't eaten in days. Add that situation into the lack of sleep, the re-traumatization, and the new injuries and it didn't take clairvoyance to see why his partner passed out. He resolved to get some juice into the guy, give or take Rikuo's cooperation or resistance. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't be the latter.

That was the issue that brought the dormant thoughts back – the thoughts he tried to suppress because the truth hurt. The piecing together of scenarios, the little details, all of the things he'd missed earlier on due to the noise, the chaos, and the hand-wringing.

Rikuo deliberately punished himself.

Kazahaya stood, balancing the mug full of bloody water, the sodden washcloth, and the roll of bandages with catlike grace. It was obvious now, looking back at the events that played before him a couple weeks ago. Rikuo's refusal to eat, the bloody streak he left on the bathroom floor shortly after their little incident, the abrasions, and the numbness to the wounding he received from the glass. If he'd felt it, Rikuo never let him know.

But why would he feel compelled to do such a thing?

His knees ached from kneeling so often, and Kazahaya gladly dumped the filthy water and the washcloth in the sink. Playing nursemaid was harder than it looked; perhaps why Kakei-san relegated the duty to him. It wasn't like Rikuo took easily to his boss or Saiga-san, for reasons already explained. The last time Kakei-san tried to help out, he got a bruise for his trouble. As for Saiga-san…. Kazahaya remembered all too well what happened with that incident.

Days of unending silence. Terrified screaming that turned into passive submission. Broken glass, the beginnings of guilt, and the terrible knowledge that he nearly lost the one he'd wanted to save. They've come a short distance now that Rikuo allowed his smallest touch – allowed him to hold onto his hand. Rikuo even responded, if only for that brief moment, by squeezing his hand back. But none of that would make a difference if Rikuo hurt himself.

To make matters worse, Rikuo couldn't forget Toshiya.

Toshiya superseded the fate of Tsukiko, which could only mean two things. Kazahaya left the bathroom, leaning against the wall to support his exhausted weight. He'd never had to think like this before – in conjectures, questions, and details, nonetheless. He'd never had to infer before based on conversations, little hints – never really in order to solve a mystery. Kakei-san's weird side jobs were those, he admitted but not on a scale like this. Back then, Rikuo solved the mysteries for him and he was further enlightened by Kakei-san once they returned.

He could use some enlightening now, he reflected wearily.

First, Kazahaya prompted firmly, Tsukiko wasn't mentioned at all whenever he talked to Rikuo. She was still there in his nightmares, causing those moans and cries that had him ripping aside the curtain at two o'clock in the morning. If Tsukiko dominated the evening, Toshiya controlled the day. Either Tsukiko wasn't all that important in the scheme of things – however, that discredited many questions, least of all Rikuo's nocturnal distress – or Toshiya was the most terrible aspect during those several weeks' imprisonment. Secondly, what if Tsukiko's fate was so shatteringly dreadful that Rikuo simply tried to forget? What if Tsukiko's fate was the worst part of it all, even with Toshiya's brutality?

No wonder his fellow psychic was a mess.

Reverse the situation, put him in Rikuo's place, throw Kei into strange circumstances, and he'll probably end up the same way. Without question, he'll be an utter wreck, driving Rikuo insane. They were all guesses, but Kazahaya felt that they offered some reasonable explanations. He wouldn't pose any of them to Rikuo, of course, but they were handy reminders. They were, however, food for thought that Kakei-san and Saiga-san might be interested in.

Raising his head at the sound of padded footsteps, he glimpsed the starch-white of a familiar pharmaceutical coat, the shine of rims, and the fall of brown hair peeking over the threshold of the open door. Pushing himself off the wall, Kazahaya went to greet Kakei-san, with whom he had some things to discuss.

The other's eyes were a rich shade of brown, nearly amber in the dim light. They were also extremely serious, like those of a doctor's. "How is he?" Kakei asked, moving down the hallway alongside him. They would've been nearly the same height, if his growth didn't play jokes on him and leave him stunted. It was one of the damages he blamed puberty for. He had no chance of catching up with Rikuo or Saiga-san but Kakei-san? Surely, it wasn't fair he was the shortest in the group. "I knew you would go after him but I didn't expect him to come here."

"He had to see it for himself," he replied. "Someone had to be there with him."

"Well, I'm glad it was you and not one of his enemies."

Kazahaya shivered. "How's Saiga-san doing with that? Rikuo's afraid that Toshiya would come looking for him. He doesn't feel safe, Kakei-san."

"I didn't expect him to." They stopped before the curtain. "Has he had any episodes?"

"You mean flashbacks? Nightmares? Something like that?"

"Yes," his boss said, not unkindly.

"Well," he started to say, fidgeting at the recollection, "he had a flashback before you came, Kakei-san. He was sleeping and then he started gasping and screaming. Kakei-san, he moved as if someone was attacking him. Then, after he got over it, he told me that Toshiya was still there with him. He said that he hurt too much to move. Kakei-san, I don't know what he's talking about."

"I'll explain it to you later."

Somehow, he knew Kakei-san would hold him accountable for Rikuo's condition. He knew it even as the curtain swung open, to tell the truth. Instantly, the owner of Green Drugstore was checking the insensible boy's pulse and breathing, while Kazahaya gazed down, hoping that color was returning to Rikuo's cheeks and the light wasn't playing tricks on his eyes. After an agonizing minute or so, his boss nodded at him.

"I take it he passed out not long after his episode?"

"We were talking before he did."

The precog murmured something, removing both middle and ring fingers from a bony wrist. "It could be the repercussions of a concussion or he simply didn't eat much, so his body gave out. Kudou-kun, good job on the bandages, even if your work is a bit untidy. It'll do until it needs replacing." The corners of Kakei's mouth bent in a frown. "The glass will have to go. That's your job, Kudou-kun. He needs some nourishment. We can start light."

"I was thinking about giving him some juice."

"If he takes that, he'll be able to eat solids after a while. It shouldn't take more than a week if he's consistent. When he wakes up, see if you can coax some into him."

"Kakei-san –"

"Yes, Kudou-kun?"

"What was it you were going to explain?"

"Right." Kakei turned to face him, gazing up. "What Rikuo experienced was more than a sudden image, or a remembrance of what was. From what you've told me, he completely relived the assault. That's why he moved the way he did. That's why he's hurting all over again. How exactly did he move?"

"He was ripping at his stomach, Kakei-san. His feet were pushing against the floor."

"Sounds like the work of that Toshiya fellow, doesn't it? Some people have the same bodily reactions during these episodes. Rikuo re-experienced the pain of the rape, and his body remembered it. It must've been hard," the other psychic said, "for you to see that. Kudou-kun, are you all right?"

"Besides a few headaches, I'm fine."

"Here." A box of aspirins was firmly deposited into his hand. "Take that. I know what it's like to have headaches and to be around someone who has them. Not only do you need it, but I don't want both of you complaining about migraines."

Kazahaya smiled. It was hard not to with what Kakei-san implied. "Saiga-san?"

"He's busy but he's always saying something about getting my headaches. As if I don't have enough of mine to spare. It's not as if they're contagious."

"Oh." It was funny seeing his boss pout. "Kakei-san, I've been thinking and I want you and Saiga-san to know. I think Tsukiko is bothering Rikuo but he's too afraid to confront it. Toshiya's the one that scares him now, but he still has nightmares. All of them are about her. I think I need to know more about her than Toshiya, even if he's important, too."

"You have to figure out Toshiya to figure out her role, Kudou-kun."

"But we know what he…did to Rikuo," he stammered. "It never ties into Tsukiko."

"That's not true." He sat down heavily on Rikuo's bed, too fraught with anxiety to worry about his empathy kicking in. Kakei stood and joined him, creasing the sheets and depressing the mattress. "They're all high-level psychics. Even if this Toshiya enjoys raping and torturing, he has some ability we're unaware of. The only people who could spirit Tsukiko away would be people like them. Only psychics stronger than Rikuo could capture and hurt him so badly. If there's any link to Tsukiko, you have to go through Toshiya first."

"You mean…?"

"Whatever you see, whatever you hear – remember it. I have no doubt that something was said. People like that are arrogant. They're so willing to crush those beneath them that they say anything."

It was a frightening prospect. "Kakei-san, I really don't want to –"

"I know. Kudou-kun, I know."

"I wish he'd get better, Kakei-san. It's not supposed to be like this."

"It isn't," the other male agreed, looking down at the boy in between them. "It isn't. Then again, this is why Green Drugstore is here. I'll protect you boys if I have to. This is your safe haven, and Saiga knows just as well as I that we'll do anything to shield you from harm. No one's going to hurt you or Rikuo as long as we're alive. That's our promise."

"It's harder when he disappears, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course it is. But as long as we know where you are and we can do something about it, you'll hear from us. Blood calls to blood, and we've been that for a year already, Kudou-kun."

He knew that much. It was the one consolation he relied on since Rikuo was found lying half-dead in the snow. "Why does he hurt himself, Kakei-san? It's almost like he's punishing himself."

"He blames himself. He thinks he could've stopped everything from happening."

"Toshiya?"

"Especially Toshiya. A strong boy like him doesn't get broken like that – should be able to fight back. If he'd gotten out earlier, he wouldn't have gone to the hospital. It'll hurt whatever's left of his pride to let others know that another man raped him. It's hard enough for women to be taken seriously in Japan, let alone a man. He'll never live it down if word got out."

"But it's not his fault!"

"You weren't there, Kudou-kun," Kakei said, eerily echoing Rikuo's words. It chilled him to hear it. "Unless you've been exposed to his torture, gone through what he has, you won't know what's going through his head. It's our job to gently guide him away from that."

I'll do just that, he vowed. "Kakei-san, tell Saiga-san that there's another name. There's a man named Eichiro who looked after Rikuo."

"I'll do that, Kudou-kun. Seeing as he's been losing sleep recently, I'll go tell him right now."

Rummaging through their refrigerator had never been more urgent a mission. There was a carton of expired milk – unceremoniously drained and dumped – plus small juice boxes of grape, guava, sugarcane, and strawberry. He also found, buried in the back, a small bag of rock candy, colored translucent yellow. Several bars of chocolate remained frozen in the freezer; along with the stash of chocolate milk he discovered hiding behind an out-of-season pineapple.

Right. He'd forgotten that Rikuo had a girlish fascination for chocolate. That had been quite the eye-opening experience, even if it ended with him blushing because he licked chocolate off Rikuo's fingers. He couldn't do that – not that he would – with the way Rikuo behaved now.

Casting indecision aside – why did there have to be so many goddamn flavors – he picked a carton of guava juice and took the rock candy with him. It wasn't exactly food but Rikuo was too skinny and anything that would give the other boy energy and a fuller stomach would help. How long had it been since those scrambled eggs? If it wasn't for Rikuo accepting water, Kazahaya would be sticking incense into plotted ground by now. It was fortunate that Rikuo only fainted and nothing worse.

There were worse things than fainting and worse things than death.

He moved the curtain aside and placed his offerings on the floor. The afternoon sun was cold and bright outside their apartment, but the room remained dusky. A chill wind still moved about, blowing drafts from underneath the boarded windows. Rikuo's shirt plastered to his body, the blood long since dried black. His hand lay limply in his lap, where Kakei-san placed it before he'd left, and his face was blank.

Kazahaya gazed at it, mildly perturbed.

They were both eighteen, he reminded himself sharply. He didn't look it – that, he knew and grudgingly accepted – but Rikuo should've looked it. He didn't. There was a vulnerability that shouldn't have been there. All of the aggressiveness, the masculinity that Rikuo exuded that gave him a hard mouth, a stern brow, serious eyes, and a forward jut of his chin that meant business or "leave-me-the-hell-alone" was gone. True, he was unconscious; yet, he saw it when Rikuo was awake as well. That bastard Toshiya and his men had all but beaten those plain out of Rikuo, for attitudes like that weren't tolerated. Rikuo had been strong when he first came across his would-be captors. He'd killed Iwakare, bitten and punched Toshiya, and dared to ask the same prick about Tsukiko. His captors returned the favor through blood and glass, through names and blows, through coercion and threats, and through physical and mental anguish.

He was eighteen. Kazahaya smoothed back damp hair, sticky with blood. So was Rikuo, and he'd missed his birthday. His eighteenth year started with bloodshed – a memorable day for all the tragically wrong reasons.

It was a tragedy that continued, because Rikuo couldn't forget.

Toshiya, Eichiro, Iwakare, Yoshiro, and Tsukiko. Those weren't the only names. Kazahaya knew there were more. Toshiya had "friends" and he wondered, his gut wrenching in disgust, how many more names he'll have to add onto his list. He wished that they didn't go beyond counting his fingers, because he'll get sick. Kakei-san's request churned his stomach, simply because he didn't want to see more. Toshiya was bad enough, and he wasn't even the victim. Thinking about seeing how many more raped Rikuo was enough for him to hurl his juice.

He could wait.

Toshiya could wait, for all the good it did his sanity.

Kazahaya sighed. Why did it have to be so damn hard for all of them?

"Kazahaya…" He watched, dropping his hand, as Rikuo blearily blinked. The high planes of his face were sunken, couching a pair of fatigued but beautiful eyes. The skin clung to his cheekbones, as if trying to maintain a semblance of form. "Did you…see anything?"

He shook his head, relieved that was his answer.

"I'm tired," Rikuo mouthed, gaze flickering over to the nightstand. "What time is it?"

"It's noon or a little after," he said, bracing himself for an explosion. "We did get up early, after all. We're probably going to sleep earlier tonight, too."

Surprisingly, Rikuo's face fell. "Sorry."

It would've halted him in his tracks, if he wasn't intent on replying back. "It's not your fault. You needed to know." Yeah, figuring out Rikuo was going to be something. His friend was unpredictable, switching from terror to guilt to shame at the snap of a finger. Digging through his memories was a mixed bag, considering he never knew what Rikuo thought at the moment. He could easily draw Tsukiko, Toshiya, Eichiro, or Yoshiro like some demented mental raffle.

It was good that Kakei-san gave him some aspirin.

"I brought some juice and rock candy. You're hungry and thirsty. That's why you're so tired." Stabbing the plastic straw through the foil covering, he proffered forth the juice box. "It's not going to bite you, Rikuo. You need something more than water, or you're just going to faint again."

"I'm not sure…"

"Not sure of what?"

"I'm not sure I can keep it down."

"Good thing I didn't decide to give you applesauce or oatmeal." He ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. "It's only guava juice. Take your time. If you get through it, that'll be good enough. What did they feed you there, anyway?"

Something inexplicable burned in those mossy depths. "Kazahaya, don't."

Whoa, okay. He knew when to retreat. "Come on, Rikuo. I can't help you if you don't take what I'm offering."

Rikuo stared back at him, paling. He didn't mean for the words to hurt. "Why are you helping me? Haven't I told you –"

"Because I'm stupid, okay?" Rikuo's former words used in a situation he'd never thought possible. "Because I'm foolish enough to believe that you can recover – that you aren't what those bastards told you you are. Because I don't want to see you like this. Rikuo, it should've been me. I'm sorry that it isn't, but that doesn't mean I'm going to watch you die. I'm not going to let you die, Rikuo. Is that enough for you?"

Rikuo's answering smile was shaky. It never reached his eyes. "Kazahaya, you sound…" A shudder racked his frame, jostling sharp angles to the point where Kazahaya feared his skin would break. "You sound like me…before."

Oh gods, that was unexpected.

"Rikuo?"

The other male trembled, staring down at his hand as if he'd only noticed the bandages for the first time. Goosebumps prickled Kazahaya's skin, running a shiver down his spine. A headache might not be contagious but this was. "You're turning into what I used to be."

"What? Arrogant, obnoxious, silent, and grumpy?"

"No," Rikuo said, and anyone could've heard the tears in that desolate voice. "It's what I would've…it's what I would've said to you if…if you were the one in trouble."

Oh no. He was going to cry.

He was not going to cry.

"If that's what you would've said to me, why can't you understand where I'm coming from?"

"Kazahaya," the younger psychic said, almost inaudibly, "you don't understand me. Why do you think I'll understand you?"

Shit. "I would if you didn't close yourself off to us before."

"I couldn't trust anyone."

So this was the crux of the matter. He'd thought the issue resolved. "Rikuo," he stated, hearing his own voice grow strong, "do you trust me?"

"I…" There was so much fear here. "I would…but…I'm so afraid."

"What are you afraid of? I'm not going to betray you or hurt you. No one's wishing you anything but a good recovery. Saiga-san's trying to figure out who hurt you, and Kakei-san keeps dropping off stuff to help us out. What are you scared of?"

"What if I never heal, Kazahaya? What if I never get better?" Rikuo was going to cry; he could tell. "I've told you – I've lost everything. I can't redeem any of it. What if despite all your efforts, it'll just be a waste of time?"

Ouch. This was the real issue here. This was Rikuo's crossroads and he had to meet him there and bring him out. Easier said than done. Why did it have to be so damn hard? "Why are you thinking like that? Look, Rikuo. I'm not as smart as you and all but I'm not that dense, either." It all depended on the situation, he thought. There were some occasions when he was incredibly dense – stupid book with the fig tree and the lady and all. "Even if you don't get better, I'll be with you. Is that enough trust? I'm willing to go very far."

"You've come a long way."

Rikuo was definitely close to crying. "I had to. It's not easy but I had to." He tapped Rikuo's hand; watched as the boy jerked, startled. "Rikuo, listen to me. I won't leave you. So don't worry about what could happen."

"I can't."

"You can. And you can start by drinking some juice. Come on – it's not going to be cold if you leave it like that. I even took all of the trouble to decide which flavor to give you. Do you know how many flavors we had stocked inside the fridge?"

"How many?"

Well, this was positive. "Rikuo, I don't know which one of us picked up the juice but we've got guava, sugarcane, strawberry, and grape in there. Sugarcane isn't even a juice – what am I saying? Then, I go and find some pineapple, your chocolate, some rotten milk, and this rock candy I'm nearly sitting on. I wish we had some bacon, but I ate all of that last week."

He was blabbering. Kazahaya knew he sounded like a moron but he was willing to be idiotic for once if it meant helping Rikuo out. "I already had some grape juice and it tasted good but I'm still hungry. I wish I had breakfast before I came up here to check out the apartment with you. Do you smell the air? It's still cold outside but the sun's warming it up. I hope spring gets here fast enough so I can see the flowers bloom."

Kei always did love flowers. She was one element from his past that he could never escape.

Rikuo didn't smile – couldn't smile without the pain bruising it. Yet, when the dark-haired, melancholy-eyed boy reached for the juice box, Kazahaya smiled. Rikuo wasn't kidding when he said it was hard to keep down, for the older psychic found himself running ragged to the bathroom to bring back paper towels. He questioned just how much of the juice found its way down Rikuo's throat and how much of it ended up on the floor. He needed to scrub it well afterwards, and inwardly, he groaned at the extra task.

Still, it was worth it to see that Rikuo was giving himself a chance.

"It…" The younger man dropped the box, burying his face into his arm. "It tastes so good."

Kazahaya left then, picking the dirty rags off the floor. Rikuo needed his privacy, and after what Kakei-san told him about Rikuo's changed perception, he thought it best to leave him to his tears. He heard the sound of bitter sobbing, of the harsh gasps in between, and bit his lip to keep himself from weeping. Dumping the paper towels into the trash, he turned around and strode back to the curtain, only to hesitate.

Rikuo never cried around him in the past, if he did. He had no right to be here now, when the anguish was so palpable. He'd lost his aggression and much of his masculinity; by leaving, Kazahaya could give a bit back to him. There were some areas where he needed to yield, too. If he wanted their connection to be mutual, he'll need to start understanding.

That left him with nothing to do.

Or did it?

The brown-haired boy flicked some strands away from his eyes, which smarted with unshed tears, and put on his shoes. He needed to talk to Saiga-san about shoving his bed into Rikuo's room, which he couldn't manage alone. The extra chore would give the older man a headache but he always had aspirin. If he tried to do it, he'll throw his back out or klutz into the worst imaginable scrapes ever.

He was a moron sometimes but even morons learned from their mistakes.

Besides, he couldn't leave Rikuo alone.