Anchor

Written by: RinoaDestiny

#18 – Care

Kyo awoke to the sound of Iori coughing, pillows and bedsheets spattered red in the early dawn light. On his side of the bed, the redhead hunched over, shoulders drawn inward by violent exertions. Ignoring the fresh bloodstains, Kyo scrambled over, upsetting the top bedspread. Yagami's hair was tousled and messy, falling over his face and as Kyo approached, he saw blood on the floor.

Uncertain, but not knowing what else to do, he placed a hand between Iori's shoulders and began to rub. In circles like how his mom used to do when he was younger and sick, feeling miserable. A sound from Iori, but he couldn't tell what it was. Eventually, the other's coughs subsided.

Blood on the floor, seeping into tatami.

"Yagami," he said, watching as Iori's tired eyes met his, "how are you feeling?"

The other man slumped against him by way of response.

"Do you need to sleep?"

"There's a…futon in the…" Another cough, misting crimson across Iori's palm. Kyo winced to see it. "Pillow, too."

The bedclothes and pillowcases needed laundering. He also had to remove the bloodstains from the tatami, but maybe that was something Iori had advice for. Later, though. Removing his hand from Iori's back, Kyo moved towards the futon closet, slid open the door, and found the folded futon and pillow. There wasn't much space in the bedroom, since Iori's bed and desk took most of it. "Where should I –"

"Against the wall. Under the TV."

The space mentioned was narrow yet long and Kyo unrolled the futon, trying to avoid bunching the material against the wall and the foot of Iori's bed. Like his, Iori's futon was larger, probably custom-made to fit his height. Behind him, Iori's coughs had returned, sounds muffled.

A trip to the nearest convenience store after the laundromat wouldn't hurt.

"Yagami," Kyo said, walking back over to Iori, whose hand was clamped over his mouth. "The futon's ready."

Nodding – blood dripping between his fingers – Iori stood, unsteady. Kyo was ready to support him, if needed, but Iori was past him, moving towards the prepared futon on the floor. Drops of blood, red against white. By the time he looked away from the marked tatami, Iori had tucked himself under the futon's comforter. There was a large smear of scarlet on the comforter's outer sheet. Iori had his eyes closed, hair spilling over his face.

Kyo listened to his breathing before he was reassured Iori was okay. Then, he left the bedroom, slipping into the bathroom to wash blood off his face. The pillows had been stained and some of it had gotten on him. Once he cleaned himself, he needed to put on some clothes, strip the bedding, and head for the closest laundromat. He hoped he had enough coins. That Iori had detergent for the bedding somewhere in the apartment.

Then, breakfast. Something easy on Yagami's stomach.

He exited the bathroom. Headed back to the bedroom.

It'd taken more than an hour between the washing and drying of the bedclothes and pillowcases, but it was finally done. Kyo had placed the folded sheets in the bag he'd found in Iori's apartment, rechecked how much was in his wallet, and slung the bag over his shoulder. There was a convenience store nearby, so Kyo headed there next. He already knew what he wanted to get for breakfast.

Instant miso soup, since he wasn't much of a cook. Standard, anyway, for a Japanese breakfast and hot, which would help Iori. He found his favorite brand and threw a package in his basket. Went searching for the instant okayu, which was more for Yagami, and upon finding it, took two packages. He also ordered some bite-sized fried chicken and got himself some coffee.

A simple meal, easily prepared.

He paid for his purchases and returned to the apartment, opening and closing the front door quietly. Slipped off his shoes and padded into the bedroom. Iori was still asleep, dried blood on the edge of his jaw.

Kyo left, closing the door behind him.

Entered the kitchen, placing the laundry bag on the side against the wall. He deposited the packages on the small counter and put his coffee and the fried chicken on the table. Removing two ceramic bowls from the dish rack, Kyo opened the okayu packages and dumped the rice porridge in them. Put the first bowl in the tiny microwave and heated it up. Did the same with the second, which he then covered with a small plate to retain heat.

He mightn't cook, but he knew a bit from observing his mom.

For himself, he prepared his soup in a bowl. For Yagami, he used a mug, since he wasn't sure if Iori was well enough to hold a bowl and spoon. This, too, he covered. He wasn't sure how long Iori was going to sleep – the effects of the blood curse was taxing and this appeared to be a particularly bad bout – so waking him up was out of the question.

Kyo ate his breakfast in the kitchen, taking his time doing so. It was quiet and yet, already, he could hear the neighbors stirring. Osaka was readying for another day. A door closed here and there. Children giggling, followed by the sound of running rapid footsteps heading downstairs. Vehicles driving off. Kyo finished his soup, popped a piece of chicken in his mouth, and made for the main room and its window. Dawn was now morning matured by risen sunlight. A good day to be outside, enjoying the weather.

Maybe, if Iori felt up for it later, they could do the same.

Kyo returned to the kitchen to tidy up.

"How are you feeling?"

Iori, color better, squinted at him through bleary eyes. The man had thrown on his shirt from last night, along with a pair of gray sweatpants and looked out of place in his own kitchen. "You made breakfast?"

"Instant. You know I can't cook for shit."

"That's all mine?"

"Yeah. Had mine already. There's coffee, too. Left you half."

Iori pulled out the chair next to his and sat down. Uncovered the bowl and mug. Kyo saw his eyes light up at the fried chicken. The other man immediately tipped the contents of the plate into his bowl of rice porridge. Kyo snorted. Iori looked at him, already shoveling the first mouthful in.

"What's so funny?"

"Kinda knew you were gonna do that."

"It's okayu. How'd you think I was…" Another mouthful. Iori chewed briefly and then swallowed. "How would you eat it?"

"Not like that."

"You're not me." Iori placed the bowl down and reached for the mug of soup. Steam wafted from it. "Did some shopping?"

"Got the bedsheets and pillowcases laundered, too."

The mug was placed quietly on the table. "How much?"

"Don't worry about it." Kyo was pleased to see Iori's abundant appetite. "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah." With the warm food, Iori appeared stronger. "You didn't have to."

"Wanted to."

Kyo was aware of Iori's difficulty in common courtesies. Being brusque all the time to others besides him didn't lend to the nicer aspects of conversation. He sensed Iori wanted to thank him, but was unable to say so. Frustrating, but learning to read between the lines was going to be a part of this relationship; Kyo knew they both had to compromise on certain things to make it work. If Iori couldn't bring himself to vocalize standard politeness and yet was, Kyo was willing to meet him halfway.

Just like how Iori had to meet him halfway on other issues.

"Is it over, Yagami?"

Iori cleared his throat. Took a drink of soup from his mug. Waited. "Think so."

"You need anything else, I'll get it for you." Kyo stood. "Got your bed to make. Had to launder the sheets anyway."

Iori didn't respond to that. Simply drained his mug, watching him.

"Weather's good outside. Wanna go out later?"

"Not today. Just in case."

Kyo nodded. Maybe, that was for the best. "You want to do anything?"

"Just stay."

Sometimes, it really was that simple. "Okay."

Comments: The boys wanted a second hurt/comfort and the idea was with me all this week until I was able to get it written down. A take on the sickfic premise, in which Iori's not ill, just extremely uncomfortable due to his blood curse's physical side effects.

Okayu is Japanese rice porridge, which is similar to its Chinese counterpart but not identical. The rice grains are left more apparent – not cooked to stickiness like the Chinese version – and the toppings are also different. It can be eaten as part of breakfast or also served to someone who is sick or unwell. I Googled a few websites for this, including recipes, to see what made it unique. Hence why I stuck with calling the dish by its Japanese name in this chapter, since it is not the same as the Chinese or Korean variants.