Rise as Things Don't Crumble
Shizuka wakes up, slowly, bracing himself for the pain and – yes, it's there, small bits and pieces of it crawling all over his body and inside of it, enough that he winces a little.
And still, he's still breathing and he has a heartbeat and he is feeling like death warmed over, which means that he's still alive, which means.
"Don't stand up yet," Watanuki waits by the side of the bed – Yuuko's places, then – and he's wrapped up in bandages too, thick lines of exhaustion on his face. "Idiot."
Even his voice sounds tired; for a moment, Shizuka wonders if he'd be able to make him flail like this and decides just not to try, taking notice of the cast on his left leg, of the way his right arm is wrapped over.
"What happened?" he asks instead. His own voice sounds odd to his ears, too dry.
Without having to ask, Watanuki reaches for a glass by the side, taking out a chip of ice, and Shizuka opens his mouth for it, grateful of the cool slide of it.
The last he remembers is fire and the world seeming to burn, and Watanuki was reaching for something and he was away, Himawari saying that she'd pay whichever price there was for her to help them, he saying the same, promising the same and the witch's eyes were so sad and endless; there was one of the princess' feathers shining and the travelers reaching for it and he couldn't--
"It's over," Watanuki says, and then he turns to look at his hands. "They're gone."
The implications don't go lost on Shizuka, and he feels his eyes widening. It's over and Watanuki's still here.
"Himawari-chan was here until a little bit ago, she went for some food and more medicine," and now that he's more awake, Shizuka can sense a differen air in this place. Before, Yuuko's presence filled every little corner, made it something misty and not there, a not-so-gentle teasing that mixed up with the air and incense and opium and magic.
Now it's... clean. And crisp and more than a little bit weird.
He looks towards Watanuki again, exhausted and surprised, and he looks down at himself and finds some sort of answer which he didn't know had a question.
Shizuka sighs and shifts upon the bed.
"Don't move, your wounds--"
"You need to sleep too," Shizuka says, pushing the blankets away.
Watanuki's mouth opens and closes two, three times and it seems as if he's just about to throw something to him.
But then he sighs and shakes his head, standing up slowly.
"You could've at least said 'please', you beast."
"Please," Shizuka mutters, rolling unto his uninjured side to curl up close to Watanuki, his injured hand on top of Watanuki's chest, feeling his heart beating.
Watanuki huffs, but he miraculously doesn't complain as Doumeki curls as close as possible when they're both injured. He even moves his free hand to touch his, and Doumeki knows there's more to know and that there's more that he needs to know, but all that can wait.
The world didn't end. They're alive. Sleep can't wait. That's more than enough for him.