Rikuo struggled up through his sleep, trying to grasp onto a reality that felt thick and warm and hard to hold onto. Bastard, he thought; his mind, cloudy and angry, threw the epitaph at Watanuki and Saiga both. Slipping something into his tea, that was cheap and…

A pair of large, brown eyes stared at him, stricken.

"Kazahaya." His throat felt dry and too tight for words. His hand reached out, attached to a body (his body) that felt like it was somehow a hundred miles away. He touched Kazahaya's hair, brushing his bangs out of his face, and squinted, desperately holding onto consciousness. "You…you're okay."

But Kazahaya's eyes, also strained beyond tiredness, were wide with fear. He doesn't know where we are, or how we got here…he might not even remember what happened… Rikuo opened his mouth to calmly explain everything, maybe even throw in a jab at Kazahaya's ego or a sharp teasing, and found his mind struggling to relate the words to his tongue. No sound came out.

Kazahaya's own hand reached out, shaking. His fingertips fell against the bandage around Rikuo's throat; Rikuo could feel his trembling, uncertain and questioning.

"What happened to you…?"

Rikuo opened his mouth to speak again, but the dry, cotton feeling was gripping him tighter. Kazahaya's face grew a little less sharp, as if the colors were melting and rubbing edges away from the world. The sleeping draught was catching back up with him, pulling him down…

"Did this happen… because of me?"

"Kaza." Moving his arm was like lifting a leaden, dead thing, but still he managed to slide it down, gripping his shoulder. "You're okay."

They were having two different conversations, but something clicked in the middle. Kazahaya pulled his hand away from Rikuo's throat, drawing it back toward his own chest, his eyes filled with guilt. Curling inward, he rolled onto his side, his back to Rikuo.

A strained voice spoke. "I'm sorry," came the muffled apology.

Rikuo didn't know how much longer he could stay awake – minutes, perhaps…no, maybe just seconds, everything was growing darker… He leaned forward and slipped his arm around Kazahaya's waist, summoning every ounce of energy left in him to pull him close enough until the flat of Rikuo's chest was against his back, his head resting on the same pillow. If they were back at their place, if Kazahaya had maybe ended up in his bed by accident, or Rikuo, in a malicious streak of humor had moved into his, this would have been funny. Kazahaya would have yowled, maybe, and blushed, and Rikuo would have teased him about being a sexually pent-up virgin, and the whole thing would snowball out of control until one of them had to leave the room and get some space…

Kazahaya didn't react; he lay crumbled and curled up like a whipped dog. No, nothing about this was funny; something in Rikuo's heart stirred, something fearful and razor-edged, spurred by the words of a creature with yellow, slitted eyes…. His arm tightened around Kazahaya's waist. Maybe, when his eyelids were less heavy, he could begin to sort out why he was so afraid for Kazahaya's life, why he was willing to open his veins for him – he cared about him, sure, but they were just roommates and co-workers, and really, Kazahaya was a hopeless case that needed someone to look out for him, and Rikuo had just fallen into the role…

But that didn't explain the intensity of the relief that flooded through him, warm and comforting. Saiga was a dick for knowing Watanuki drugged him; and yes, Watanuki was a bastard for drugging him, but later they'd be able to go back to joking and ribbing each other, but for now…

Kazahaya was all right. Rikuo listened to Kazahaya's breathing slow and even out into the steady rise and fall of sleep. Satisfied, he let his grip on consciousness go, his mind melting back into a dark, mercifully dreamless world.

Fin.