Trying to correct mistakes mid-fic is a real pain (as is switching POV mid-scene, ugh) and it's the reason why I've had this chapter unposted on my computer for three days.
Also, I was obsessively listening to "How Will I Know" while writing this chapter; the lyrics are surprisingly fitting, I realised. Although perhaps the mood isn't. This isn't much of an upbeat chapter.
Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None
Shion watches the fire lick at the walls with a paralysed, numb sort of fascination; the golden wisps of flame, like silk ribbons, move in an exotic dance towards them and Shion gazes, awestruck. After all, there's no need to worry – he isn't really here, he isn't looking at real fire, isn't in real danger –
He is yanked coldly back into reality by a heavy feeling of something on his shoulders – and he looks up and realises Nezumi has shrugged off his thick leather jacket and is wrapping it around Shion and pushing him towards the window.
"What are you doing?" Shion protests frantically, struggling against Nezumi's forceful grip.
"We're blocked in; we can't get out," he hears Nezumi shout clearly through the orange chaos. "We'll have to jump. My coat is padded – it'll protect you from the fall."
Shion's eyes grow wide at the implication – they're on the second floor. "But what about you?"
Nezumi doesn't reply, instead holding Shion against the windowsill as trembling hands fumble with the closure. Shion's blood runs cold.
"Nezumi!" Shion yells, screams repeatedly for him to stop you're fucking insane over the deafening clamour of the bell, the fire, the water pelting the glass, but then the window is open and Nezumi's strong arms leave him and he's falling.
A quiet sound is throbbing in Shion's skull. It beeps in time with his heartbeat and every deep b-dmm incites a fresh ache in his head. Even through his eyelids the light is painful and he tries to turn away from it – and fuck that hurts. Every muscle, every tendon, every bone in his body screeches and squeals in sharp, violent protest and Shion's eyes shoot open.
"Shit," he rasps against the blinding light and for a moment thinks absurdly that he's seeing the light, that he's finally slipped on his way out of the shower (I should really put a rug on those tiles) and been sent to heaven – but no, he can't be, because if he was, he wouldn't be in so much pain, and Nezumi would be beside him.
His chest swells with emotion. "Nezumi."
"Shion?" He recognises his mother's voice instantly, along with the rough sound of dried tears.
He coughs weakly. "Mama."
Glasses are slid onto his face and he opens his eyes again – the cold lights are still too bright but he can see Karan's face clearly. "Oh my god, Shion, you're okay," Karan whispers, tenderly stroking a hand through snowy locks and biting back a new round of tears. "You wouldn't wake up – I thought you weren't going to make it."
"Make it… what?" Shion slurs. Trying to speak and sit up at the same time is clearly too much for his motor functions at the moment.
Karan helps him with the sitting part, holding gently onto his shoulders as if he might break if she touched too firmly, and she tucks his pillows up to support his back. Shion ignores the scream of his limbs because the memories are beginning to flood back as his mind clears. "The fire – Nezumi – fuck, is Nezumi okay? He gave me his coat and he's still in there, Mama, we have to help him –"
"Shh, Shion, it's all right," Karan shushes him quietly and pushes him back against the pillows when he tries to move away. "Nezumi is fine. He managed to escape."
Shion lets out a cracked sob of relief and pulls his mother into a crushing embrace. "Thank god," he whispers into brown hair. "He's alive, he's safe, thank god…" A thought suddenly occurs to him and he pulls back. "How? How did he – the exit was blocked, and the window..."
"He jumped," Karan replies with a soothing half-smile. "You came out fine, you just hit your head – the doctors said they'll need to test you for a concussion – but Nezumi broke his leg. The doctor said he's lucky to have just one broken bone, with a two-storey fall like that."
Shion doesn't hear the rest of his mother's words. He turns away blindly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stands – or attempts to. His knees threaten to buckle with each step, but he somehow manages to hurtle out of his room and down the corridor, heedless of his mother's calls, demanding of each nurse he passes to know which room Nezumi is in. None answer him, and one tries to call security.
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asks politely as he stumbles towards her, though she eyes Shion warily as he leans precariously against the desk.
"Where is Nezumi?" he asks bluntly and without explanation. He'll have time for manners later.
The receptionist furrows her brow as she stares at him with suspicion, then glances down at some papers in front of her. The minute's wait feels like hours – both to Shion's patience and his shaky muscles. "There is a Nezumi in room 21," she says eventually. "Are you a visitor?"
But Shion doesn't reply; he's too busy moving away, down the corridor, eyes flitting between room numbers as he meanders, hasty and disoriented, through the crowd of nurses, doctors, visitors, patients.
16, he reads. 17. 18, 19, 20.
21.
He bursts through the door without preamble. "Nezumi," he barks, out of breath and quite dizzy. "You're so stupid – why did you give me the coat? You should've –"
"Shion?" Nezumi murmurs with shock, grey eyes wide and underlined with purple smudges.
Upon seeing the tall, strong man sitting in a hospital gown and a cast, Shion crumbles. He can feel the warm wetness pooling in his eyes and blurring his vision, and when he speaks his voice is breathy and choked.
"It's because… you gave me your coat. It broke my fall. But you… You should have taken the coat, you shouldn't have – your leg… you… I didn't… " Shion rapidly loses the ability to form coherent speech as he is overcome with tears. Nezumi gestures tiredly for him to come forward. He collapses into Nezumi's arms, his thin frame wracked with loud, unadulterated sobs.
Nezumi smoothes down the creases in the back of Shion's hospital gown with a quiet hum of comforting sounds until Shion has worn himself out. The white-haired man's energy levels were already low before he ran around the hospital wing like a wild animal, and soon he's on his knees beside the bed, breathing raggedly into Nezumi's waist with the younger man's long arms wrapped around him.
"Sorry," Nezumi mumbles quietly.
Shion shakes his head, his voice muffled against Nezumi's gown. "It's my fault for dragging you there. If we'd just left the building on time, you wouldn't…"
"No," Nezumi says firmly, interrupting the train of speech before it can reach the station. "It's not your fault, Shion. You couldn't have known there would be a fire, and it was my decision to give you the coat. You even protested against it and I ignored you."
Shion pulls away then, to look Nezumi in the eyes – searchingly, desperately. "There's still something, I should've reacted better, I should've…"
Nezumi sighs roughly. He crosses his arms and glares at the wall. "For fuck's sake, Shion, it's not your fault. It's only a fracture, anyway. I'll be fine in a few weeks and it doesn't even hurt. Stop beating yourself up over it."
"You're still hurt, and I'm not! That's…" Shion trails off, pushing himself up into an unsteady stand. He scrubs a hand across his cheek with a sniff. "I can't help it."
"I know," Nezumi says with a sense of irritated defeat. Stormy eyes dart to the door. "You should go back. Your Mama is probably worried about you."
Shion follows his gaze. "I did sort of run off without warning…"
Nezumi puffs out a dry laugh and shoos the albino out of his room, ignoring the anxious promises to visit again very soon. Really, Shion is so clingy sometimes.
Though Nezumi can't blame him. If their situations had been reversed… No, he doesn't want to think about that, because their situations aren't reversed. Making sure Shion didn't end up with a serious injury was the whole reason he gave Shion his stupid coat in the first place.
But why? Why had he risked his own life to guarantee Shion's safety? It doesn't make sense. He's always done his best to look after himself, put his own needs above the needs of others, look out for number one. That's his motto. No one else matters.
But Shion…
Nezumi drags a slender hand across his eyes. He has a hideous headache. Probably from thinking too hard, he scoffs internally. Maybe he'd been a bit brusque with the kid earlier… Dammit. It's this fucking headache's fault. And his leg is aching too, deep into the marrow; not to mention the numerous bruises and jarred joints. His left ankle is particularly bad – sprained, according to the nurse. Whenever he moves, the pain bites at him, snaps its teeth like an angry dog.
"– Fucking moron landed himself in hospital. Tch, I don't even want to visit him –"
Nezumi smirks to himself. Speaking of angry dogs…
A short fourteen-year-old pushes the door open so hard it slams against the wall. They stalk into the room, followed by a large man in an expensive suit. "How the hell did you manage to break your leg?" they snap, dropping huffily into a plastic chair beside the bed. "Such a fuss over nothing, like we're somehow obligated to visit you. It's a pain."
"I'm doing fine, thanks for asking," Nezumi drawls, and the portly man guffaws.
"Haven't lost your sense of humour along with your mobility, then," he comments with a grin and leans against the far wall.
The teen ignores him. "I came here to visit you, didn't I?" A slim black eyebrow rises in challenge as tan hands reach back to redo their messy ponytail.
Nezumi sighs plaintively. "I'm so lucky to have such a caring sister as you, Inukashi," he says in the softest voice he can manage.
Inukashi snorts in a very unladylike fashion. "Yeah right, you fake. Besides, I'm not your sister – the correct term is sibling, thanks very much."
"Oh I'm sorry," Nezumi amends, voice dripping with honey. "My dear it."
Inukashi's lip curls up into a snarl. "I'll make you into an it if you're not careful."
"Hey," the older man chides, cutting in. "He's only saying that to wind you up, Inukashi. Don't take the bait. And Eve – shut up."
Inukashi sniffs derisively at their brother. "You of all people should understand, you rat – what with your closet full of dresses and lipsticks."
It's Nezumi's turn to bristle in annoyance. "Mutt," he growls.
"Crossdresser," Inukashi quips defiantly.
"At least I don't actually pretend I'm a girl."
"I don't pretend to be a boy! But at least I look more like one than you do."
Nezumi opens his mouth to snap something offensive and immature back at them, but the heavy man across the room sighs gruffly before he has the chance to speak. "Do I have to separate you two like little kids? You're seventeen, for fuck's sake, Eve! Grow up."
Nezumi grits his teeth and tries his best not to sulk.
"You can't tell us off, old man. Are you gonna make us call you 'dad' now too, you backstreet swindler?" Inukashi taunts, suddenly switching sides, and opens a bag of Doritos with as much indifference as they can conjure. They offer the bag to Nezumi in a silent offer of a truce, and the older teen accepts graciously.
"Tch," the man mutters to himself. "What a pair of brats, ganging up on me at the drop of a hat. Weren't you threatening to castrate him a minute ago?" He casts Nezumi a sidelong glance. "It's nice to see you're not dead though, Eve. It would've been a shame if the world lost such an amazing talent as you."
"A shame for your bank account," Inukashi mutters through three Doritos. They blink and sit up straighter. "Oi, Rikiga, you're not gonna make me fill in for Nezumi while he's out of action, are you? 'Cause I ain't wearing a dress."
"As if a mongrel like you could draw an audience," Nezumi sighs, quickly grabbing another handful of Doritos before the bag is angrily withdrawn from his reach.
Inukashi fixes Nezumi with an affronted glower. "I could, if I wanted to. But I don't."
"Of course," Nezumi agrees smoothly, pumping as much sarcasm as possible into the words. Inukashi growls.
"The doctor said you fell out of a second-floor window," Rikiga interrupts loudly before the confrontation can turn violent.
"Idiot," Inukashi huffs incredulously and shoves more Doritos into their mouth. "How'd you manage that?"
Nezumi purses his lips. He would rather not talk about it to be honest, but if he refuses to explain, he'll be followed incessantly by his dog of a sibling demanding to be told the truth. He chooses the easy route. "There was a fire," he grinds out, raking a hand through limp charcoal strands. "The exit was blocked. I jumped."
Inukashi blinks in surprise, their attention finally diverted from their Doritos.
Rikiga raises an eyebrow, tugging a crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lighting one without regard for the 'No Smoking' sign glaring angrily in red over his left shoulder. "What about your famous jacket? Didn't you have it specially made for circumstances like this?" he asks with some bafflement.
Nezumi's eyes drift down to observe his fingers tugging idly at the edge of the blanket. He should've known they'd ask. He always wears his coat. No exceptions. "There was someone else trapped with me," he mutters. "I gave it to him."
"You –" Inukashi splutters, but finds themself unable to finish the outburst. They instead settle for a paralysed gape, deep brown eyes wide and unblinking.
Nezumi shoots them a sharp glare and sets his jaw in a mixture of defiance and discomfort.
Rikiga puffs out a surprised, smoky chuckle. "Well, this is interesting. Someone special enough that Eve would rank them before himself?"
"I'd inhaled a lot of smoke. I wasn't thinking straight."
Rikiga's incoherent murmur around his cigarette holds a tone that sneers, Yeah right, Eve, keep telling yourself that.
… Or maybe the painkillers are getting to Nezumi's head.
Shion doesn't look up. He knows the sort of look the receptionist will give him if he makes eye contact. Their last meeting wasn't exactly… civilised.
"Thank you," Karan says politely to the woman, and the hand on Shion's shoulder squeezes slightly.
Still, no matter how much embarrassment is curling in his stomach, he's glad to be leaving. No concussion was diagnosed by the doctor and Shion was discharged that same day with only a warning to take it easy for the next few days.
His own perfect bill of health does nothing to quell the guilt gnawing his insides to shreds at the thought of Nezumi's broken leg, though.
The automatic doors slide open and Shion is greeted by the caress of the cool evening air; it's much welcomed in comparison to the suffocating, sterile hospital air. He inhales deeply, his lips threatening a smile.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Shion blinks and his head snaps towards the source of the calm voice. Karan is ambling along peacefully beside him, gazing thoughtfully at the trees and not looking like she'd spoken at all. Despite not facing him however, she appears to be aware of his confused gaze, because she expands on her question.
"About why you suddenly ran away at the mention of Nezumi and came back fifteen minutes later shouting and in tears." She does look at Shion now, and her expression is casual and gentle, with an almost imperceptible tinge of humour to it. "You don't have to."
As always, Shion's heart warms at his mother's perceptive and almost psychic nature. He breathes out thinly. "No, I…" He halts, unable to find the accurate words, and shakes his head in frustration – and then hisses in further frustration when white locks fall into his vision. He pushes them back irritably. "I'm just angry," he mutters. "At Nezumi, at myself, at… at the whole situation."
Karan spares him a curious glance. He meets it tentatively.
"Well, I… You know that we both jumped out of a window to escape the fire, right?" At Karan's affirmative gesture, he continues. "Nezumi, he… has this coat. I thought it was just a normal leather jacket but it must be made of some kind of special material, because he wrapped me in it before I fell and I came out unscathed. He wasn't wearing it when he jumped. That's why he broke his leg."
Karan's eyebrows rise in surprise, and she blinks up at her son, perplexed at the strange logic she can't quite grasp. "Is that why you're angry? Because Nezumi gave you his coat?"
"Yes!" Shion not-quite-yells, and he's immediately taken aback by the strength of his own conviction. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and glances down at the sidewalk. "Yeah," he repeats, slightly calmer but nevertheless annoyed. "He should have kept it. I can deal with a broken bone or two – I'm not weak and fragile, he doesn't have to protect me. His safety is more important. But still, he just gave me the coat, and now I'm completely fine, but he's in pain and he's going to be on crutches for weeks if not months, and it's my fault. He said it's not my fault, but it is, because if I hadn't dragged him over to the library after school that day then we wouldn't have been trapped in the fire and he wouldn't even be in this mess. It was my own selfishness that broke his leg and put him in hospital." He ends the ramble with an abrupt huff and screws his face up.
Karan sighs. "Shion," she says in a pained tone, and pale, slender hands reach out to grip Shion's shoulders, effectively stopping him in his tracks. The intensity he can hear in his mother's voice only serves to make Shion feel worse. "Shion, look at me. Shion."
Lavender eyes hesitantly dart up, afraid of what they'll find reflected in Karan's stare – disappointment, disgust, disapproval.
But in her deep brown stare there is nothing but love.
"Nezumi was right," she murmurs firmly, again squeezing his shoulders, a comforting gesture. "It isn't your fault. I know it's natural to want to blame yourself for what happened – it's part of who you are, Shion, both a blessing and a curse. But these events were out of your control. And unless you took Nezumi's coat against his will, there is no reason to think his injuries are your fault." Her round face takes on that motherly expression which silently says you know I'm right, and Shion can't find it in himself to protest, no matter how little he believes her kind words. It's not like it would make any difference to her opinion.
Karan is just as stubborn as he is, after all.