Disclaimer: The last time I tried to put a collar on Tatsuki and call him mine, I ended up looking like I just walked out of fight club. I think you can guess how the rest turned out.

Authors’ Note: This exists because Tatsuki/Karen doesn’t have nearly enough love. Also, yes, that is Karen’s official last name. It’s in volume six, in the extra story about finding the Pretty Tiger. Also, yes, I was stuck for titles.

Close-up Patch-up

Kitagawa Karen was in a bit of a predicament.

Of course, that wasn’t anything that was completely new. Karen’s photography obsession often got her in numerous scrapes with people who didn’t want their pictures taken, yet who found themselves as her subjects anyway. After all, Karen never backed down. If she wanted to shoot someone, she was going to shoot them, and then run like hell when they attempted to hurt her or rip out her film.

But this was different. Of course, her current subject hated being her subject, too. Oohira Tatsuki was never a fan of her photography talents, and whenever he managed to catch her, he ripped out her film. It was such a common occurrence that it was almost a habitual dance for the pair; she would take his picture, he would rip out her film, she would return home empty-handed but with the familiar phantom flipping in her stomach that was the common signal of a “celebrity” crush.

But this was different. Like usual, she’d spotted Tatsuki roaming the streets of Shibuya and had decided to follow him, dodging behind lampposts and buildings in order to snap pictures without him noticing. When he got into a fight, she considered it to be part of an even bigger score, and snapped pictures with all the frenzy of a drug addict pumping her last doses of heroin. But when the fight ended, Tatsuki didn’t end up the victor. For once, he’d picked a fight with someone better than him, and was left on the ground in a crumpled, bleeding mess.

And that landed Karen in her current predicament. Since he was in an alley, no one from the main streets of Shibuya saw him, and unless Kotarou or Yuuto sensed Tatsuki’s distress and ran to his side, he wasn’t going to get any help. But if Karen went to help him, he would rip out her film, destroying her entire night’s worth of work and all of the beautiful photos that she would celebrate over later.

But was being the better person worth it in the end?

Karen hesitated, frowning and turning the information over in her mind. As a photographer, she considered herself to be something of an artist, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t practical. In fact, she was practical to a fault. Should she put her precious film at risk, or should she go help him? She had nothing on her but her cell phone and a few band-aids, but since even sitting up seemed to be something of a struggle for him, any help would be better than none.

Finally, Karen sighed, kissing her camera for luck before stepping out around the side of the building. Please don’t let him rip out my film, she silently begged, keeping one hand securely on the camera just in case as she stepped further into the alley.

“Tatsuki?”

It felt strange to use his name. Of course, she’d known his name for ages, but she’d never really spoken about him to anyone but Yuuto - and even then, she was always aloof and rarely used names. Still, Tatsuki looked up when she used his name, yet then looked away again, still keeping silent as he tried to stand up.

“Be careful,” she chastised, and her tone came out harsher than she intended. Instinctively, she reached out to try and grab his arm and steady it, but he pulled it quickly from her grasp and ended up half-collapsing against one of the buildings as a result. “Good job. Do you want to actually accept some help now?”

“Hn.” A noncommittal grunt was no surprise, considering who it was coming from, and Karen brushed it off. She wasn’t the type to easily get offended by a brush-off or apathetic response. No, that was for more emotional people, such as Kotarou or Yuuto. Karen had a much more level head on her shoulders.

“You have two options,” she told him, her voice detached in the same manner his might’ve been if he were talking to her. “You can either continue to hobble out of this alley as you are, at potential risk for getting your ass kicked if those guys decide to come back, or you can let me help you. I’ve noticed that you hate hospitals,” she added, remembering several excellent shots she’d gotten as he’d made his grand escapes, “so we can go back to my apartment.”

Karen expected Tatsuki to say no. In fact, when she saw him continuing to stumble toward the mouth of the alley, nearly falling over several times, she took it as a denial and began to plan her route around Shibuya, still taking pictures of him as he tried to get home by himself. But when he paused at the end of the alley, having nearly fallen flat on his face for the fifth time, he asked her a question that she never - not in one million years - expected to hear.

“Is this how you help people?”

Karen blinked, but nonetheless moved to his side, taking one of his arms and putting it around her shoulders. She felt as though she’d stumbled into an alternate dimension; had he really accepted her offer of help? Was she really helping him instead of waiting for someone else to do it while standing on the sidelines, snapping photographs as if it was her destiny rather than her job? Even as she helped Tatsuki out onto the main street and began the slow journey back to her apartment, she couldn’t believe the luck that she had, or the fortune that she’d stumbled upon. Whoever knew that the almighty Oohira Tatsuki, ice king of Tokyo, would need - let alone accept - help from anyone, let alone someone who he had always seemed to dislike? The crush-flipping was beginning to grow a little more excited in Karen’s stomach, but she did her best to pay it no mind by thinking that she would have to get photographic evidence of this monumental event, and perhaps probe Tatsuki for a little bit of information regarding his powers and his cousin.

When they got back to her apartment, Karen led Tatsuki into the bathroom and had him sit on the toilet while she began to forage in the medicine cabinet for bandages and antiseptic cream. Silence reigned between them as she searched for the necessary items, and out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw Tatsuki lean his head back against the wall. Thinking for a moment, she brought out the bandages and cream, setting them on the sink before announcing, “You probably need some ice for the swelling. I’ll go get some and be right back.”

Karen still wanted to take pictures, but since no one was home, it would be hard to distract Tatsuki long enough to do that. As she got a paper towel and started to put some ice cubes in it, she tried (and failed) to come with various ways to do it. All would be much too obvious, and would result in Tatsuki ripping out her film - something that she was shocked he hadn’t done already - and it would seem like an invasion of privacy besides (not that it wasn’t normally, but this was different). It was a wonder enough that he’d accepted her help; the last thing he needed was her using him as a model when he was beaten and sore as it was. Karen sighed, bundling the paper towel and exiting the kitchen to return to the bathroom. She’d just need to treasure her memories and do her best to never forget.

But as she went back to the bathroom, she saw Tatsuki standing in the doorway, staring at nothing in particular in her living room. Her tone as neutral as her expression, she asked, “Do you need something else?”

Tatsuki didn’t answer her - not immediately, nor her question. When he did say something, it was in a quiet - yet thoughtful - tone. “You don’t live with your parents?”

Karen couldn’t see how he could have gleaned that information just by being in her apartment, and his knowledge of it merely piqued her curiosity further. But two could play at Tatsuki’s game of dodging questions, especially if they both wanted information. “You should go back into the bathroom so we can deal with your injuries.”

For the first time, Tatsuki looked at her - truly looked at her with the faintest glimmer of surprise. Then he grunted again and turned back into the bathroom. Far from being put-off, Karen only felt her curiosity grow, and her competitive nature flex its muscles. Oh yeah. Two can play at this game, broody.

Once again, silence fell between them as Karen handed Tatsuki the ice and began to clean his cuts before applying the antiseptic. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch when she touched the cream to his injuries, though Karen supposed that getting into regular fights was a lot more painful than the burn of medicinal ointment to open cuts. After a few seconds of silent work, Tatsuki spoke up again - shocking Karen for about the third time that night, and dropping another lit match to the gunpowder of her curiosity.

“Why do you stalk me?”

The question was blunt and to the point - something not unlike Tatsuki. He was barely the type for chatter at all, much less idle chatter, and he wasn’t about to beat around the bush. If Kotarou had asked Karen the same question, she might have answered immediately, but she was not about to back down from her favorite subject.

“Why do you habitually pick fights?”

“Hn.”

“If you don’t answer my questions, I won’t answer yours.”

Tatsuki removed the ice pack just enough to glare at her. It was a glare that would terrify millions and had once broken the viewfinder of her camera, but Karen refused to flinch, and instead returned the stare steadily. He reminded her of ferocious dogs who would only attack once they caught the scent or sight of fear. Stare them down and they were no threat, but once you turned tail to run they were after you with all the intensity of a hurricane. If Tatsuki was the ferocious dog, then Karen was going to stare him down until alien cows decided to ransack her apartment. Either he was giving her answers, or he was leaving with more questions than he ever hoped to have.

The fact that he had questions to begin with set the flipping in her stomach off again, though.

“You need to stop following me,” Tatsuki said finally, as Karen was applying the last of the bandages. She raised an eyebrow, putting the bandages away before asking, “Why?”

“You’re going to get hurt.” Tatsuki’s tone was flat, and Karen imagined that if other girls at Konan heard him say that, they’d either be squealing with glee that he cared about their safety, or would be too terrified to speak, taking him completely seriously and vowing never to go near Oohira Tatsuki again. And while the crush-flipping in Karen’s stomach was now competing for the gold medal at the Olympics, she merely scoffed in the back of her throat, searching through her cabinet once more.

“Then I get hurt. No pain, no gain.”

“Urushiyama will be upset if you get hurt.”

“He’ll live.” Karen rolled her eyes before adding, “And that’s just a last-ditch effort to get me to give up, and you know it.”

Silence told her she was right.

Pulling back from the cabinet, she sighed and tossed her hands up. “I don’t have anything strong to wrap around that ankle of yours. Are you going to be all right getting home?”

“Hn.” Another grunt. Karen almost thought he’d make a better caveman than a ferocious dog, but the look that was present in his eyes nowadays was much more akin to a wild beast than a dumbed-down, club-wielding brute. Tatsuki stood up, putting a hand against the wall for support, yet then stood up completely on his own, nodding once. Mutely, Karen stepped out of the bathroom first and then walked him to the door, opening it for him and stepping aside. Tatsuki moved to walk through it, yet then stopped in the doorway.

“You’d be there even if I wasn’t, wouldn’t you?”

“Hm?” Karen blinked, and Tatsuki turned to give her a half-exasperated, half-dangerous look out of the corner of his navy eyes.

“If I couldn’t make it home all right, you’d be there to see due to your obsessive stalking.”

Shock for the fourth time that night, especially as Tatsuki turned to finish walking out the door, not even waiting for her response. Still, Karen couldn’t help but grin, her lips quirking more and more upwards by the second. With one hand still on the door and the other on her camera, Karen watched Tatsuki amble down the stairs and toward the street, a small chuckle escaping her lips before she slipped out after him, shutting the door behind her.

He was right.