week 4, saturday

[digestif]

[ they're not gone for long, at least - they go back to find Majima very soon, if only because they're afraid of what else he might end up doing to himself if they leave him alone. Newt's in the parlor, and they'd rather not deal with him, so it's back to the cottage again. It'll be here for a few more days, anyway; they may as well enjoy the actual bed while they have it.

In truth, today was a great success for Mizuki, at least as far as the trial went. Logically speaking, they should be pleased; they're safe, they caught at least one of the people causing trouble every week, and the competition is thinning out more and more, with one of the most troublesome gods gone and another down to almost nothing. They're getting closer to their goal. Nothing else really matters to them, in the end. Still, it's hard to feel victorious about anything at all when they think about what happened to Majima today. The entire trip back, they're deep in thought, brewing up what they should say to him.

They don't really come up with anything good enough by the time they're back inside. ]

... Majima-kun. [ a beat. ] Sorry. I should have done a better job keeping you out of trouble.

Comments

[digestif]

[ they smile, just barely, at that. Hearing him sound more like his usual self is a comfort, as ever. ]

Always looking ahead, huh? That's good.

[ Mizuki still seems a little unsure; it's mostly because they're not sure how to make him feel better, on top of not being settled with their own emotions. They feel guilty and sad and annoyed about this all at once. In the end, they settle for reaching out to touch his hand again. ]

But I was talking more about the pain. [ ... ] If it's unbearable tonight, I have some medicine that will knock you out. Unfortunately, that's about the best I can do.

[haw]

[ he tenses when they reach out for him, and a subtle twitch indicates that he almost pulls away. he winces as he keeps his hand where it is. ]

Mizucchi, you've seen my scars. I went to hell an' back when I lost my eye. I saw, heard, an' felt things over that year that I would never wish on my worst fuckin' enemy. This is nothin'. [ he glances over to them. ] Save it for someone who'll actually need it.

[digestif]

[ there are a lot of little things to pick apart in that short comment - how he lost his eye, how he apparently suffered for a year. They assumed his scars were accumulated over a lifetime - the thought that he got all of them in a single year changes their perception of him considerably. He's seen a lot. And, for all their pragmatism and adherence to cold facts, at heart, Mizuki is painfully compassionate, to the detriment of all else. Despite his lack of response, they push on further, taking his hand in theirs like they had on the ferris wheel - more carefully, of course, with his finger in mind. ]

Fine. And your head? Is it feeling all right?

[ he did get knocked out twice... ]

[haw]

I don't think it's physically possible for me to get dumber than I already am, so we're prolly good on that much.

[ what a hopeless romantic. ]

[digestif]

Uwah. That's tempting fate.

[ they can't resist the urge to joke back, as usual, but they keep going even so. ]

What about all those wounds from Wednesday? Do they hurt?

[haw]

Damn, yer ruthless.

[ and in response, he just huffs. ]

Ya already know my answer to that one.

[digestif]

Mm. You're going to tell me it's fine and you can handle it, even though it hurts, because you don't want me to worry.

[ they would know. Not just because they know him, but because they do the same damn thing all the time - perhaps not with physical pain, but with every other kind. Even now, they're avoiding burdening him with all the emotional duress they're feeling because they don't want to get him involved in their mess. But that's a separate matter. This is about him.

Quietly, Mizuki leans their head forward until their forehead gently bumps against his chest. Tired. Vulnerable. Things they don't usually show - and this isn't much, but it's a little. They'll allow this much if it's for his sake, they think. ]

... Please stop getting hurt.

[haw]

[ this is... new. not only do they call him out accurately on his invincible tough guy display, but suddenly their head is against his chest and below his chin. he freezes, because he's never really dealt with someone who cared about him this much before. the only other person who has...

... well, that's not important right now. even so, it's unfair to compare them to mizuki. different people, different circumstances, different worlds. they both deserve their own places, their own chapters in majima's life.

he then wonders if it's okay for him to wrap his arm around them—not desperately, like when they had slept together, but tenderly, to show them the same amount of trust that they've clearly put into him.

then he stops thinking, and just does it. he doesn't say anything, though, because he doesn't want to promise something he can't guarantee. ]

[digestif]

[ it is, in fact, okay. They don't expect any promises from him, because they know just as well as he does that he can't guarantee anything - they're up to their eyeballs in weird powers and weird monsters and a whole lot of other bullshit that Mizuki certainly wasn't trained to deal with, and that they're pretty sure he wasn't, either. They're just two (relatively) average people stuck in this completely not-average hellscape, doing their best.

There's something comforting about that, too.

His arm is big and warm around them; after a few seconds, they wrap theirs around him, too, with a careful touch, trying to avoid squeezing his torn-up back too much. Gentle, but firm. They're stronger than they look - they can support him. They don't say as much - they don't say anything - but they want to convey it. ]

[haw]

[ he hesitates,

pulls back from them,

and kisses their forehead softly. ]

[digestif]

[ he continues to surprise them with these unexpected moments of tenderness. When he pulls back, they've already moved forward with thinking about what to say next - how he should talk to Indulgence about getting his injuries healed a little this coming week, how to deal with his curses for the remaining day; every thought is dropped when they feel his lips on their skin again. ]

... Majima-kun. [ is it the curse? Probably not. They lift their face to meet his eye, pulling back a bit, themself - although they leave a hand on the front of his shirt. ] You don't have to comfort me. I'm fine.

[ maybe that's what he's trying to do? In the back of their mind, they already know it's not, but they're leery of acknowledging what this thing between them might be turning into. ]

[haw]

Ya know that ain't it.

[ he almost reaches for their hand, but this time, something prevents him from doing so. at the same time, it almost looks like something's causing him physical pain to say this, but he can't help by let the following slip out, ]

. . . Sorry for bein' like this.

[ god, he can't wait until monday. ]

[digestif]

[ they do know... so they're actually kind of thankful his stupid curse buys them a little more time. A laugh falls out of them at his miserable apology, expression easing a little. ]

You'll be better soon.

[ Mizuki can figure out some way to heal him up, and the curses won't last. Everything else... they'll work on it. They give him a solid pat on the chest, then back off again; one gloved hand dips into a pocket somewhere in their jacket, and they retrieve what appears to be a pill bottle, albeit a little different in shape. "Futuristic," one might say. They set it on the table with a note of finality. ]

If you need it. Dissolve two in water, and they'll knock you out for a while. This stuff is pretty strong, so don't overdo it, all right? [ they push their hair back over their shoulders. ] I need a long shower. You go get some rest.