Chapter Twenty One

The first thing that came to Genrou's mind was horror. Why was Houjun on the ground? Why was he lying there like that? Had he drowned in the shower? Was he dead?

The next immediate thought that followed was that Houjun, barely covered by a forest green towel that had been hiked partway up one hip, was undeniably, inescapably and fundamentally naked.

That particular realization wasn't very conducive to rational thought.

His cheeks burst into flame. He tried to stand, but ended up stumbling sideways instead. Genrou slammed his back into the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, so tightly that he could see stars. The hotness of his face burned to epidemic proportions; he was privately sure that he matched the color of his hair. He heard Saihitei's shocked gasp, sensed more than felt the model rush past him into the toilet, and felt more than heard as Nuriko came running back into the room.

He'll be fine, his heart sang with relief. Saihitei and Nuriko will make sure he's fine. He'll be okay. He's okay.

Dude! his brain screamed, would you fucking LOOK at that fine piece of meat!

Genrou cringed.

"Please move out of the way!" a brisk voice commanded clearly.

"He's over here, nurse," Saihitei shouted from the bathroom. Genrou cracked open one eye to watch as a large, matronly woman marched in through the narrow doorway, flanked by a youthful-looking, freckled male nurse garbed in blue. The woman nodded sharply at the young man, and he disappeared into the cubicle.

"Be careful with his head…I think he hit himself pretty hard." Saihitei, speaking in hushed, hurried tones. The nurse murmured something Genrou couldn't decipher, and in a matter of a few seconds, had emerged from the bathroom, the unconscious photographer cradled in his arms.

Genrou clamped his eyes shut immediately, but the image of an undressed Houjun, water trickling down sculpted, very-noticeable abdominal muscles, long blue hair soaked and plastered in tendrils to one cheek, modesty protected only a flimsy scrap of cloth, danced traitorously past his eyelids. Even his neck felt hot now. Scratch that. His entire body was so tense that sparks could have been dancing off him. He sank slightly to the ground, willing his legs not to shake.

How much time passed, Genrou didn't really know. He didn't really care, either, still flushed from the embarrassment, from the memory and from his reaction.

A warm hand descended on his shoulder, and he yelped, looking up so fast that the top of his head nearly collided with Nuriko's chin. The lavender-haired man leapt backwards just in time, barely balancing the Styrofoam cup of tea in his hand, and only then did Genrou notice that the room had gone quiet. Saihitei wasn't there. There was no one else in the room with him and Nuriko. He peered behind him. Well, no one else besides him, Nuriko and Hikou.

"Leika-chan? Are you okay?" Concern was evident in Nuriko's hazel gaze.

His throat had gone extremely dry, and sucking in air seemed to take too much effort. "I'm…I'm fine."

Nuriko pursed his lips. "You've been standing here muttering to yourself since they came and took Houjun. Saihitei's outside speaking with the doctor, but I wanted to make sure that you were all right. You look…funny." He thrust the cup of tea into Genrou's hands.

"I'm really okay," Genrou forced a grin onto his face. "Just a little shaken up." The warmth of the drink, diffusing through the plastic material of the container, felt good against his palms, and he tentatively lifted the cup and took a sip.

Nuriko nodded understandingly. "I was with them when they gave the diagnosis. It's the lack of sleep and the lack of proper food that gave Jun the fever. He's also dehydrated, but it's nothing serious." He saw the look on Genrou's face, and laughed quietly. "He'll be fine, Leika-chan. Really."

Thank God.

"I…it's just that, you know…" he managed, trying to make his tone light, "I came here to see him and then—"

"I know, I know," Nuriko cut off kindly, nodding and smiling at Genrou. "You like him, don't you?"

Genrou spewed out his tea, just as the door swung open.

"Nuri, Leika-chan!" Saihitei grinned at them, relief tangible in his voice. "Houjun's awake. He wants to see the both of you."

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Houjun winced when his fingers found the solid bump on the side of his head. According to Saihitei, who had been the first person he had managed to focus on when he opened his eyes, he had hit the floor loud enough to be heard in the midst of a conversation and through the relatively thick door that separated the bathroom from the main ward.

Even the short half-hour of shut-eye had done wonders. The migraine had receded to a dull buzzing in the back of his skull, but he had, in all truth be told, considered sending Saihitei away just so he could get just a little more sleep. Until the male model had mindlessly uttered the magic words, "Nuriko and Leika-chan came to see you."

Stupid Saihitei, he thought glumly, massaging his temple lightly and adjusting the pillow that was propped up behind his back. He should have known that Houjun couldn't turn away…couldn't turn away from what?

Deep down, Houjun knew Nuriko would have understood had he brushed him off. They had known each other quite a while now, and were good, if not bosom, friends. Saihitei would have watched over Hikou for him, and everything would be taken care of for the next few hours, because his father had taken his mother back to the family home earlier to rest when it became apparent that his brother was out of mortal danger. So why, in Buddha's name, hadn't he taken the godsend opportunity?

Suddenly, and without warning, the door burst open.

And Houjun found himself looking at the reason.

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Genrou couldn't quite decide whether to feel frustrated or nervous.

The moment Saihitei had appeared in the doorway, Nuriko had latched onto Saihitei's arm and whispered something into his ear that made the older model's eyes widen. That wouldn't have been so bad, until the identical conspiratorial smiles had appeared on their faces.

"You go ahead first, Leika-chan!" Nuriko called merrily, waving with the hand that was not resting on Saihitei's arm. "Sai and I need to discuss something in private."

Genrou fought not to narrow his eyes in suspicion. "I could wait for the both of you," he offered.

"Oh, no, no!" Saihitei brushed off the suggestion with a toss of his head. "Houjun's already awake, so you might as well have a nice talk with each other while Nuriko and I take a stroll!"

Before Genrou could come up with a more vehement protest, the pair had turned tail and all but fled the corridor. As they rounded the corner, Saihitei looked back and winked.

I just love their fucking subtlety.

Resisting the urge to knock his head against the wall, Genrou tried to calm himself down, inhaling deeply and then exhaling slowly. He stared at the door that Saihitei had pointed out.

Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea. What would I say to him?

He was seriously debating whether or not to leave when something knocked violently into him from behind, sending him stumbling forward. He crashed, hard, into the door, which swung open to admit him. The harried-looking doctor who had bumped into him didn't even notice as she swept past him towards the elevators.

SHIIIIIIT. I'm in the room! I'm in HIS room! I'm—

"Hi," Houjun greeted cheerfully.