My hand stilled, glass tilted just so. "Come again?"

A shrug from the opposite end of the kitchenette, shoulders milky in the dim light. "Not a big deal, I've mentioned it before."

"Yes, but–" Not with true intent, any form of resolve.

"You've said yourself this isn't the best place to stay. A woman living alone in one of the worst parts of town?" She turned with her coffee, bosom cushioned by one arm. "I thought you'd be relieved."

"Please do not put words in my mouth." I resisted the urge to sigh, taking a sip of water instead. Of course, Azumi could do as she pleased – she was a grown woman.

Yet she loved this place, its old-fashioned bricks, porch lamps, and window boxes full of flowers. These were the first living quarters she'd acquired on her own, discovered she could truly live on her own. This was where she found Toki, who even now twined lazily between my legs on the path to his water dish. She met Yusuke here, her first true friend since childhood. She took me into her home after we met, taught me to dance, to touch, to–

The scars screamed then, pink and angry. They clutched her breasts with thick fingers, grasped her clavicle, her ribs, snaking across her abdomen in no set pattern. I knew if I looked down, I would see worse markings on her leg, evidence of twisted flesh, broken bone, and pierced skin. Of course, Yoko saved her – she walked without so much as a limp – though that phone call still haunted my dreams.

Apparently, it lurked within hers as well.

"They knew where I lived." Suddenly she appeared small, reclined against the intersecting counters, staring into the steaming cup. "That's how they tracked me, found me alone. They could have attacked me any time – the only who ever comes over is you."

Yoko remained silent, lurking just within my consciousness.

"They could have come here!" Her hands trembled, threatening to spill the hot liquid. "They could have killed everyone: Mrs. Norita, Urameshi, you–" She shook her head, marks from claws and teeth marring her fingers. "I can't stay here."

A flurry of emotions twisted my gut, fury, glee and pity among them, each fighting for dominance. Mostly, these stemmed from my companion. Once again, I saw the demons falling, enjoyed their blood and curses, their sickening pleas for life. Azumi hemorrhaging at his feet, a hole where her stomach should be, limbs twisted like a discarded doll's. She didn't want to die; my name was on her lips–

And then there was nothing.

The flowers reached for her now, though she could not see them, soft heads tapping the window, the walls, vines slinking down the hall. All gifts grown with loving care, developed for one purpose, to protect her.

Her apartment was an impenetrable fortress.

Of course, she couldn't know this.

Before I knew it I'd crossed the room, rescued the cup, taken her into my arms. She gasped at my hands on her back, scars sensitive, even through the camisole. Still, I pulled her close, lost in her hair, her sweet scent.

"Then stay with me."

The demand came in a whisper, lost in black tresses. Still, she heard and stiffened, fingers closing around my shirt. "What did you say?"

"You do not wish to be here, yet have nowhere to go." She attempted to pull away but I wouldn't allow it, willing security, strength, stability. "So stay with me."

Azumi shook her head, mouth brushing my chest. "Shuichi, I can't–"

"They know nothing of Shuichi Minamino."

The half-true fell easily from my lips and she listened, tension receding by degrees. "I promise to be a perfect gentleman – I will not do anything you do not want me to."

A chuckle, watery and weak. "That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard."

"It is unwise to make decisions based on emotion." Only when her laughter died did I soften, tracing her spine, the tender place at her nape. "Stay until you are yourself again, when you've regained the will to fight."

Nails at my shoulder, a grinding jaw. "Listen–"

"One month." She froze and I took advantage of it, leaning back to meet her gaze. "Consider living together for one month. Your sick leave ends next week, correct?" No response though I could not bring myself to care, not when I saw the fire kindling in her eyes. "What do you plan to do when you go back and your coworkers ask what happened? Do you truly believe this incident will not effect your performance whatsoever?"

In that moment Azumi hated me, though I was fine with that. She hated my logic, facts lodging like knives in her breast.

She hated me because she knew I was right.

"Whether you come with me or I to you does not matter, just give me one month." My hand rose, cupping her cheek, her sculpted face. "If you have not changed your mind by then, I will help you move myself. You will have my full support."

A snort and she rolled her eyes though did not move. "Like I need it. Why should your opinion mean anything to me?"

But it did. We'd shared too much: the burdens of care-taking, of love, and forced isolation. She took my first kiss and stole many more in the kitchen, the closet; on her couch, her bed. All music sang her praises now – I found her steps in every song. Hands moving with the melody, touching, touching, always touching:

She'd consumed me.

The softest of sighs, shoulders rounding. "One month, not a day more."

A smile, small and unassuming, one she returned after feigned indifference. "So which would you prefer, the sofa or the bed?"

September 2020 OTP Drabbles

Prompt 13 – Moving in Together (substitution for Eating Ice Cream)