Archive of Our Own ^beta

Suo will never forget the sound of bat striking bone, the way Sakura stumbled, then crumbled. His eyes rolling up into his head, consciousness fleeing like a frightened bird.

Nirei shrieks Sakura’s name. Their team turns in unison, heads swiveling to catch a glimpse of their captain as he falls. The collective feelings of disbelief and horror echo between them.

Suo is weak. He doesn’t have the strength of will to maintain his composure, to focus on what’s in front of him when what he cares about most is passed out on the ground. Self-restraint is a pipe dream.

The rest of the class follows suit. It’s chaos. The clouds over their minds do not allow for any finesse.

Suo barely misses hits he would normally dance around effortlessly. He’s not seeing the enemies in front of him, only the body of Sakura on the ground feet away. He’s near feral, snarling and snapping and clawing his way through.

Bodies flood in to stop him, barring his way.

The sounds of fighting fade from his mind, his need to be by Sakura so potent that he can feel it in his teeth. Just when he’s ready to break the neck of the next obstacle blocking his path, his classmates surprise him by filling the holes in the spaces around him, suddenly pushing away the enemies.

Tsugeura gives him a feral grin. Kiryu nods, redirecting the punch meant for him. Nirei tackles a guy, further clearing the path and Anzai joins the boy to kick the downed man in the face, cementing the man’s inability to rejoin the fight.

Their eyes all tell Suo one thing.

(Protect their captain.)

He stops bothering to attack anyone, instead weaving through the brawling crowd.

He launches himself off the back of an opponent. He flips over one, two guys, springing off one’s shoulder to bounce off the face of the next. He lands seamlessly in the opening his team has created before springing forward with purpose.

The moments flash by, his body slow and coordinated while the world speeds around him, the force of his focus warping time. A smattering of sensations reach him briefly. The feeling of wind through his hair, the brush of his earring against his neck. The sight of Furin uniforms out of the corner of his eye. The sea parts as his vision narrows.

There is no ground, no concrete to step on. It is feet, inches, only a measured distance between him and his captain that rapidly diminishes.

He blinks and the gap closes. He skids to Sakura’s side, absorbing the sight of the other boy’s pale features marred only by the striking red of blood, smeared across his forehead.

Suo finds the two-toned head in his lap, suddenly pillowed on his thighs without his knowledge of how or when Sakura got there, as if Sakura is a magnet and Suo is helpless to the pull.

His hand is on Sakura’s face, stroking the curve of his cheek. Everything tender in him stoked aflame.

“Sakura?” he murmurs, leaning in until the tails
of his earrings frame both their faces. “It’s time to wake up.”

A beat passes. Two.

“Sakura?”

For a moment, there is nothing but the feel of his hand on skin and the vibrations in his vocal chords as he quietly stumbles through words he will not remember. Coaxing, pleading until language loses meaning and the panic he’d been swallowing back begins to scratch at the base of his esophagus.

It’s a beautiful relief when Sakura’s lashes finally twitch, then flutter, nose scrunching in such an endearing way that Suo could cry if he were still capable of it.

Suo is the first sight Sakura opens his eyes to. Suo, unflappable Suo, scuffed and bruised and smiling so warmly at him.

Sakura does the only thing he can think of, which is not much at that moment. He smiles back. His head might be throbbing, but he knows such a kind look deserves that much back. It’s merely an upturning of his lips, the brief shutting of his eyes.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty,” Suo says, admiring the dopey look on Sakura’s face. Unguarded, simple, and just for him.

Sakura thinks he should be mad about the moniker, but he can’t remember why. He blinks up at Suo, expression falling into a look of confusion.

Suo immediately zeroes in on the varied sizes of Sakura’s pupils, one smaller than the other. A sign of a very bad concussion.

“How are you feeling, Sakura-kun?” Suo asks, “Does your head hurt?”

Sakura continues to blink up at Suo stupidly. His head hurts, sure, but pain is nothing new and Suo’s lap might be worth it. He’s not sure how he got here but wow. Being close to others without pain is a novelty he will never take for granted.

“Sakura?” Suo questions, gaze worried and no, he doesn’t want Suo to feel sad. He wants Suo to be happy.

Strong, amazing Suo with his cavalier attitude and perfect face. Sakura would poke the expression off Suo’s face if he felt like moving. He instead comments on it.

“Nice,” Sakura slurs, briefly wondering why his tongue isn’t cooperating either. The thought of his body leaves quickly when it takes so much effort to say words. “Y’gotta nice f’ce.”

That worried look is replaced by shock, before a soft smile overtakes Suo’s expression. “Why thank you, captain. You have a nice face as well.”

Sakura smiles at him again, a flash of his canines.

The vulnerability, the openness, Suo is being rendered useless by the gentleness of this boy right now. Sakura will definitely need to be checked by a medical professional, but the how of it escapes Suo.

“‘happened?” Sakura asks, trying in vain to glance around. He feels tired and his body isn’t listening.

Sakura knows it was a fight. It’s always a fight. The echoes of it linger in his muscles. He just wonders about the details.

Instead of straining himself, he looks up at Suo, trusting his vice captain to fill him in.

“You got hit on the head, captain,” Suo tells him. “Hard.”

“Ow,” Sakura says, eloquent as ever.

“Ow is right,” Suo confirms wryly.

Sound returns, or rather, Suo notices the lack of it. No grunts or thuds from fighting. He glances up just as Tsugeura knocks out the last enemy standing.

Kiryu and Nirei are both already on the phone. Knowing them, one is speaking with an upperclassman while the other is calling around to find an available doctor for Sakura.

Kurita is near tears, no doubt feeling guilty that his captain took a hit meant for himself. He lingers on the fringes, looking distraught as Takanashi and Kakiuchi console him. Suo doesn’t have much sympathy for him at the moment when Sakura is the one hurt on his behalf.

But really, that’s what Sakura does. Throws himself into the fire if it means sparing someone else. His self-preservation instincts are as existent as his self-worth which is to say none at all.

“Kurita ‘kay?” Sakura asks suddenly, as if the thought has struck him, drawing back Suo’s attention. Though the question annoys Suo, since it emphasizes just how little care the boy has for himself, it’s a good sign that Sakura even remembers the reason he’d taken a hit.

“He’s fine,” Suo assures. “We’re more worried about you, captain.” He brushes bangs out of Sakura’s face, ignoring the streaks of red marring white strands, peering into the boy’s mismatched eye.

The blush is faint, but welcome all the same. Suo lets out a hoarse chuckle and Sakura turns to hide his face in Suo’s stomach. It doesn't work, of course, but it does manage to dirty Suo’s shirt. Though his eyes can’t be seen, one blushing cheek faces Suo proudly and Suo’s heart flips at the rightness of it.

Sakura should always be this close, this trusting.

One golden eye peeks at him and Suo’s smile widens.

“Suo! Sakura!” Nirei cries, appearing and rushing to kneel at their sides. “Oh my god, your face. So much blood,” he whimpers, inching closer. “Sakura, what hurts?! Is your head okay?”

“Shaddup,” Sakura grumbles, hiding his eyes again from sight. “‘S too loud.”

“Sorry,” Nirei whispers, wincing. “I’m sorry, Sakura-chan. But are you okay?”

“‘M fine,” he mumbles, barely audible with his face still smooshed into Suo.

“He’s definitely got a concussion,” Suo shares.

Before Nirei can work himself into a panic, Kiryu steps in, placing a delicate hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Let’s give Sakura some space, yeah? Concussed people don’t tend to like a commotion.”

Kiryu then addresses Suo, “Let us know when you’re both ready to go. We can drop you off at the emergency clinic.”

Surprisingly, Sakura doesn’t immediately start protesting. Sakura isn’t fond of anything vaguely resembling a nurse, doctor, or medical facility.

Nirei nods rapidly at Kiryu’s side. “We’ll head back to the school after and brief the others for you guys.” The two then start the task of rounding up the others to leave.

“I’m so sorry, captain,” Kurita blurts in a rushed whisper, his cringing form filling the space Nirei left. He looks wrecked, like the thought of Sakura needing medical help is the worst thing to have ever happened to him.

“Not your fault,” Sakura grunts, immediately attuning to the sadness of his classmate. “‘M fine. S’jus a scratch.” He glances at the other boy, checking Kurita over with a flitting of his eyes. “Yer good? Not hurt?”

“You made sure I wasn’t,” Kurita confirms, stars practically dancing in his eyes. He blubbers another moment or two before Kakiuchi snags him by the sleeve to drag him away.

Feet away, Tsugeura lectures the downed mob, chastising them until he loses wind or his audience can sneak away, whichever comes first. Half of the opposing team has already scurried off.

It’s the calm after a storm, the quiet stolen in snatches between battles.

-

Later, they’re walking back together, Suo and Sakura trailing behind the class out of earshot, but not outside the reach of a helping hand if needed.

Sakura’s nose is buried in the side of Suo’s neck, taking advantage of the closeness provided by the necessary piggy-back ride. Nausea ebbs and flows. Saliva pools in his mouth and exhaustion gnaws at his senses. His head throbs in time with his heartbeat.

He’s half-aware, mind distant. Suo’s warmth soothes some of the discomfort, though not all.

“Sakura?” Suo says and Sakura can feel the word vibrate through Suo’s back into his chest.

“Mm?”

“You have to stay awake when you have a concussion,” Suo chides, turning his head slightly towards Sakura. The other has been drifting in and out of the conversation since waking.

“‘M tired,” Sakura complains quietly.

“I know, but let’s get you checked first and then I’ll take you home to rest, okay?”

“Checked?” Sakura’s head shoots up, the action reflex. The pain catches up quickly and he lets out a soft groan.

Suo chuckles. Earlier, he must have not heard rather than acquiesce to their request. “Careful, captain. Your brain is already a bit scrambled in there. Wouldn’t want to make it any worse.”

Sakura grumbles wordlessly and tucks his face back into Suo’s neck. “Hate doct’rs,” he mumbles, rubbing his forehead on Suo’s shoulder. Soothing himself without noticing he’s doing it.

Suo is still amazed by the tenderness knocked loose in that hit. Sakura will no doubt be mortified when he’s feeling better. The thought makes the side of his mouth twitch in a wry smile. “We’ll be quick, I promise,” he says with cheer. “We have to make sure you’re okay.”

“‘M fine,” Sakura assures, tone petulant.

“Sure, captain.”

“I could kick yer ass right now.”

“Sure, captain.”

—-

Sakura whines and groans his way through the visit at the clinic.

When Sakura said he hated doctors, he truly meant it. He was more and more tense the closer they got to the clinic, thighs tightening on Suo’s hips like a slowly constricting vice. He let go of Suo to go inside the clinic much the same way a cat would begrudgingly release a scratching post when forced.

The staff of nurses and lone doctor are gentle with him, completely ignoring his sputters of indignation and his continued insistence that he is fine. They usher him back to a room and start examining him from head to toe. Begrudgingly, Sakura allows it.

They tut worriedly when Suo mentions the slurred speech and when they peer into his eyes to check his pupils. They order more scans.

When they come to take Sakura back to get a CT scan, the boy loses it once he realizes Suo isn’t allowed with him.

“Get off!” Sakura was near screeching, lips pulled back in feral snarl. “I don’needa scan!”

Suo is growing to hate the words spoken again by Sakura, “‘M fine!” He’s been arguing for the past five minutes and he shows no signs of stopping.

“Sakura,” Suo chides, desperation beginning to tinge the edge of his voice. He knows Sakura is scared and that most emotions manifest as anger for the boy, but Suo will never forgive himself if he let Sakura go home with a fatal brain bleed they could have saved him from. “Let us help you. Please.”

Sakura freezes, meeting the eyes of his vice captain. His expression shutters, a frown carving itself across his face.

Sakura internally debates. He loathes the machines needed to scan anything internal. The tight space and loud noises make his heart race and hands shake.

But Suo is asking, pleading. His eyes scorch Sakura, burning an earnest red.

“Fine,” he slams back into the bed with huff. “Do yer worst. But you-“ he points his finger aggressively at Suo who was standing in the corner of the room, “better be here when I get out.”

Suo smiles crookedly, a mere quirk of the corner of his lips. “I would never leave you in your hour of need, captain.”

Suo means it.

The scans are good. No blood leaking in his big, beautiful brain. Sakura is fine to go home with a prescription of painkillers and an order to rest.

“He’ll need someone to watch him tonight,” the doctor tells Suo, ignoring Sakura’s rough ‘Oi!’ of protest. “He may be disoriented, sensitive to light or sounds. He may experience nausea or vomiting. If the vomiting persists, meaning more than twice, bring him to the nearest emergency department. Hopefully, most symptoms should lessen in the next day or two.”

Suo nods. “And if they don’t?”

“Emergency department.”

Sakura scoffs and the doctor turns a scolding gaze on him. He’s an older gentleman, a grandfatherly type and his ire feels potent. “Listen here, young man, concussions are serious. You’re only born with so many brain cells so you shouldn’t be so cavalier about losing them.”

He turns his attention back to Suo, ignoring Sakura’s flaming, indignant expression. “Now, you take care of him and watch him closely. You got it?”

“Absolutely,” Suo confirms.

“He will definitely be confused for a few days or even weeks. It’s not uncommon to have some lingering fog after a nasty hit like this one. Just be gentle with him.”

“Gentle my a- mmf!” Suo covers Sakura’s lewd mouth with his hand, smiling genially at the doctor.

“I’ll be sure to.”

—-

There are bags on the front step when they make it back to Sakura’s apartment. A spare futon, courtesy of Nirei. Some water and snacks from the class. He spies some teabags and a sleeping shirt from Kiryu.

Suo had updated the group chat after leaving the clinic. They’d jumped for an opportunity to help and this was the fruits of their labor.

It took longer than needed to get to Sakura’s apartment, Sakura insisting he walk (limp) the whole way, an arm slung over Suo’s shoulder. The class had plenty of time to bring them supplies.

“It seems our classmates were worried too,” Suo comments.

Sakura blushes. He stumbles forward, removing himself from Suo’s supportive side to snatch a bag and shove his way into his apartment.

Suo trails after him, grabbing the rest. The smell of Sakura hits his nose, potent here as nowhere else. They toe their shoes off by the door and make their way inside.

——

When everything is put away, the futon stretched across the floor next to Sakura’s, snacks tucked into cabinets, they sit across from each other on their respective sleeping arrangements, quiet. Sakura purposefully looks out the window, not making eye contact.

He fiddles with the pills he has yet to take, painkillers to ease the ache gnawing at the base of his skull. A glass of water sits by his pillow. Suo insisted he take them when he’d usually forgo them regardless of instruction.

“You really don’t need to stay,” Sakura tries. He feels more clear-headed here and now, cocooned in his home, even with Suo in his space. It’s just enough awareness returned for him to be embarrassed.

It’s awkward, the two of them alone in his tiny, dingy apartment. The faucet drip, drip, drips between the silence. Patterns dance across the floor in the fading afternoon light. Sakura resolutely stares anywhere but Suo.

Sakura has never had anyone care for him. Never anyone he could really remember.

Indistinct fragments of memory, of the smile on a woman’s face with eyes the color of his light side. Perhaps the mother he can no longer recall clearly.

Wishful thinking, or some soothing falsehood he created.

The truth is probably unforgiving.

As others drilled into him time and time again, he was never loved, never wanted. Abandoned and despised from birth.

He was never a child that could fade into the background, that others ignored. His looks made him a target from the moment he was born. As silent and small as he’d tried to make himself as a young child, as standoffish and abrasive as possible in his teens, peace never found him.

Until Makochi, until Bofurin.

Here, the attention wasn’t negative and hands that reached weren’t always to hurt.

It was mind boggling and everything in him was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

For a boy forged in fire, what could he expect but heat and flame?

“I’m not going anywhere,” Suo says and smiles at him tenderly. Sakura only sees the expression briefly, a stolen glance through his bangs, but the image of it is seared into his mind. His cheeks warm. Sakura isn’t sure what to say so he says nothing at all.

He instead throws back the pills and chugs the water to occupy his mouth before he says something stupid.

——

Suo makes them tea. Sakura doesn’t have a kettle, but he does have a small, dented pot to heat water in.

Sakura isn’t hungry, and neither is Suo. They’re alike in that regard, stress killing their appetite. Still, something on their stomachs will do them good and Suo insists it.

The painkillers have kicked in. The throbbing has lulled into a dull discomfort.

Rarely does he take any medicine. He doesn’t like the possibility of it making him vulnerable, of it fogging his thoughts.

But Suo asked. And under the heat of Suo’s crimson-eyed focus, Sakura is obviously pretty helpless at saying no.

“Feeling better?” Suo asks. Sakura jumps, turning his attention to him. He blushes at Suo’s concerned gaze, looking away.

“You’re ridiculous. I don’t need anyone babying me.”

“Indulge me, Sakura-kun. The doctor ordered it and I am nothing if not a man of his word.”

Sakura scoffs, face burning. He sets his expression in his typical scowl. “Whatever. This is nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“While your independence is admirable,” Suo waves a hand, dismissing Sakura’s denial easily. “I would be sitting at home, festering in worry, otherwise.”

“Hah? You calling me weak?!”

Suo laughs, the sound clear as a wind chime in a faint breeze. “I’m relieved you’re feeling better.”

Sakura grumbles.

Suo carries the tea over, setting one in Sakura's hands. The ceramic is warm, though the set is mismatched. The smells cloak the room in a comforting aroma of jasmine. Sakura didn’t even know he owned two mugs.

Gracefully, Suo lowers himself to sit cross legged in front of Sakura. Not knowing what else to do or say, Sakura hides his face in the cup by taking a drink.

It’s hot, but the temperature is welcome. He breathes through his nose with his lips to the edge of the cup, absorbing the calming aroma. He mumbles a quiet thanks around the cup, feeling the shape of the words against the ceramic rim.

“You’re welcome.”

For several moments, they sit without speaking.

For Suo, it’s a balm to be able to bask in Sakura’s home. Invading his space isn’t something Suo would normally consider, but this isn’t the same circumstances as a seasonal cold.

As much as Sakura may gripe, Suo knows that this is a situation that requires him to push. Concussions are extremely serious. Even without the doctor’s recommendation, Suo would have found himself resolutely by Sakura’s side.

He’s not sure when that happened, when Sakura’s dream became Suo’s. When the thought of Sakura happy warmed some tender place in him he could not name.

Sakura does not need it, has never known to want it, but Suo wants to show him gentleness all the same.

Sakura, so busy taking care of others, should have someone take care of him too.

It says so much that their class knew of Suo’s feelings before Sakura himself.

“Y’know, I had to wear an eyepatch once,” Sakura says out of the blue, tone all false brevity. “Almost lost my eye.”

“Oh?” Suo says, blinking once at the sudden new information, his thoughts abruptly leaving him in a rush like air leaving a balloon. If he moves too quickly, reacts too abruptly, shows interest too aplenty, Sakura will pull away, will retreat. Suo freezes instead, allowing the weight of this new piece of Sakura to settle in his stomach. His eye watches Sakura blankly, betraying none of his inner turmoil.

The thought of Sakura hurt like himself-

The gaping hole where his eye should be, the rough texture of scar tissue framing his orbital bones. The nights he wakes, aching, a pain pulsing in the space where emptiness lingers. Migraines that haunt his days and reign supreme over his nights.

He would never wish such a pain on anyone else and the thought of Sakura experiencing anything even remotely similar-

It’s not the first time Sakura has done this, dropped tiny bombshells that awaken some bestial instinct urging him to protect.

It feels like the only way Sakura can share bits of himself, of his life before Makochi. Rushed, the words fighting for room to climb from his throat. Tiny tragedies Sakura only sees as pages in his story, spilling the words before his courage leaves him.

One false move and Sakura would rush to dismiss his story, his pain. It’s happened many times in the last few weeks, fueled doubly so as their classmates continue to find excuses for the two to be alone together.

Suo has learned to carefully curate his responses back and forth, keeping himself light and open to Sakura. If he revealed all the raw emotions jumbling at the back of his throat, Suo is sure Sakura would never bother sharing a thing. Anything too heavy and Sakura was pulling away as if emotion were a weakness he couldn’t stand to acknowledge.

But this? Suo’s eye aches. A pulse that shoots to the back of his brain. He squeezes his lone eye shut, hiding the reaction behind a sip of tea. The taste is refreshing in its bitterness. When he opens it again, he realizes he needn’t have worried for Sakura isn’t even looking at him.

Sakura is staring at the play of shadows across the floor, gaze distant. His fingers fiddle with the mug in his hands, thumb rubbing across the top of the handle. His expression isn’t sad or pained, but something isolated.

“Mhm, for seven months,” Sakura continues quietly, looking into the tea like he can see that time spanned in its shallow depths. “Woulda been less but I couldn’t afford antibiotics and got an infection.”

“That sounds terrible,” Suo commiserates before he can bite it back, his tone sincere and earnest. He means it. The first six months after the loss of his eye was the worst, the hardest.

It would have been made that much harder without the regiment of antibiotics and steroids he’d been prescribed following his stay at the hospital. He knows Sakura’s living situation isn’t ideal, that it points to a boy raised without kindness, without care. Rarely does a week go by without that fact glaring pointedly at Suo’s face, such as the case is now.

At Suo’s voice. Sakura jumps, his head springing up to look at Suo. His eyes are wide and surprised and Suo wonders if Sakura got so lost in the memory that he forgot Suo was even there.

“Shaddup,” Sakura finally says, adopting a gruff tone. His cheeks puff with indignation he doesn’t really feel. Sakura is secretly glad someone thinks so. Moreover, he’s glad that it is Suo especially. Because if anyone could understand how horrible that time had been, it would be the boy with an eyepatch in front of him. “I’m not telling you for sympathy. Jus’ sayin’ I know how hard it is to fight with one eye.”

“My, Sakura, are you trying to give me a compliment?”

Sakura blushes, ears and cheeks a bright cherry red. Suo chuckles, the sound warm to Sakura’s ears. An embarrassed Sakura is a blessing when compared to a recalcitrant one.

“What happened?” Suo eventually asks, tone soft and without pressure. Coaxing an animal from a corner is easier than discussing painful memories with the other boy.

Sakura briefly glances at Suo’s hands, watching him stir in lazy circles. The hypnotic motion soothes some fluttery part of his brain. Sakura isn’t sure if it’s the drugs, the concussion, or the peaceful atmosphere between them, but he finds that he wants to answer Suo’s question honestly.

He wishes it were a fight. That he got this by defending someone, even if that someone was himself.

But it wasn’t and he didn’t. He was mouthing off to his foster father. The beer the man had been nursing made a mean projectile. Sakura dodged, but when it shattered next to his head, some of the glass flew into his eye and cut the cornea.

“I was being an idiot,” he mumbles, the shame fitting his shoulders like an old sweater he can’t let go of.

Suo scoffs. “All the things you are; charming, infuriating, awe-inspiring. But not an idiot.”

Sakura’s cheeks are red when he balks at the compliments. “Shaddup!” He throws his pillow at the other and Suo catchesit with a laugh.

“What does it matter anyway?” Sakura gripes stubbornly. “How it happened, I mean. It happened and I went around looking like a pirate for weeks. Had to relearn how to fight with one eye. It sucked. End of story.”

“I want to know every piece of you,” Suo says, like he’s telling a secret. “Including your tragic backstory.”

“You can’t just say that!” Sakura shrieks.

He stands abruptly, snatching the clothes he’d set out earlier from the kitchen counter and fumbling his way to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower!” He says on his way, words stumbling together in a high-pitched jumble. He slams the door shut behind him before Suo can retort.

Suo blinks again in the stilted quiet left behind, his heart warm. Sakura was trying to relate specifically to Suo. Perhaps knowing Suo would be the one person who could offer commiseration from a place of shared experience.

That was…so adorable.

—-

When it’s just himself and his own reflection, Sakura can berate himself in peace.

Because seriously, what the fuck?

Why did he tell Suo that? What an idiot. A selfish, whiny idiot.

His situation was and is nothing like Suo’s. What was he even trying to do? Compare notes?

Suo lost his eye. Sakura hasn’t seen beneath the eyepatch, but he’s heard from his whispering classmates that it was an injury that occurred in primary school. Whatever happened, it had to have been terrible and Sakura just brought it up in casual conversation--

Sakura’s worries gnaw at his insides, sending his stomach twisting. It feels like he- like maybe he was making Suo’s trauma about him?

This is why he doesn’t talk about himself. Why risk this? This sick, churning fear that he somehow fucked up.

Suo didn’t seem upset. Then again, Suo rarely seems upset.

Always controlled, calm, serene. A gentleman.

If Sakura did cause him trouble, would he ever show it?

Sakura smacks both his cheeks, glaring at his own reflection in the mirror. There are bags beneath his eyes, blood crusted in dirty brown flecks through his white hair. He can never stare at himself for long before the familiar swell of self-hatred rises.

He turns away in disgust and forcefully lets out a breath. He’ll just take a shower to clear his head and rejoin Suo without ever mentioning any of their previous conversation ever again.

He reaches to tug his shirt over his head and freezes.

The problem with showering, Sakura realizes, is that he will have to be naked when it’s just a flimsy piece of wood standing between him and Suo.

He looks at the door, imagining Suo out his living room, sipping tea while Sakura is in here, completely vulnerable and-

His face heats. Oh god. He can’t do this.

No, no. This is stupid. He can handle showering at school after morning patrols, but his apartment? Why is that any different? It’s. Not. There is nothing vulnerable or intimate to see here, thank you.

He forcefully empties his mind of all thoughts and starts to strip.

—

When Sakura emerges, steam billows behind him. He’s clean, dressed in comfortable sweats. His hair is free of all debris, but the heat of the shower has revealed a brilliant purple bruise creeping down his hair line onto his forehead.

The exhaustion has finally settled in, the sleepy feeling from earlier finding him again now that he’s safe and home. By the end of his shower, he could have fallen asleep standing up in the spray. It was sheer willpower that dragged him out of the warmth.

Suo looks up from his phone, smiling at Sakura from where he’s tucked into his futon. One arm is thrown up and tucked behind his head like an extra cushion and he looks relaxed and comfortable. He’s changed into the extra shirt Kiryu lent him, the fabric soft looking. Their tea cups are put away and the lights are off. Dusk provides just enough light to set a soft mood.

Sakura is too tired to mention how close the beds are to each other, the space between them having shrunk while he showered. This is his first sleepover so anything goes. He wouldn’t know what is or isn’t normal. In his sleepy, concussed mind, being close to Suo sounds kinda nice right now.

Sakura melts into a puddle next to Suo. He wiggles the blanket over his form and tucks his head dangerously close to Suo’s raised arm.

Suo starts swiping through videos, angling the screen to allow Sakura a view.

Sakura watches through his wet bangs that are plastered across his forehead, absorbing none of the mindless scroll.

His attention drifts to the boy next to him, drawn as magnets are to iron. He lazily catalogues Suo’s perfect features. His jaw is sharp and beautiful, framed by his earring that lays prone across his folded arm. Sakura watches the colors from the phone screen bounce off Suo’s cheek, a technicolor show. Suo’s eyelashes flash purple, then green. The boy blinks and shadows whisk across Suo’s cheek lightning fast.

“‘M tired,” he mumbles to disguise these thoughts from even himself, firmly shoving his face in his pillow to cover his embarrassment. “But I don’t wanna sleep.”

“You should,” Suo says, glancing down. “Rest is important to heal.”

He tilts his head, one golden eye peaking back at Suo. “S’weird,” he argues, petulantly, “with another person here.”

“Pretend I’m a plant.”

“What?” Sakura groans, face again lost in the depths of his pillow. “No. How the hell do I do that? You’re too annoying to be a plant.” His voice is muffled through the fabric.

“Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?”

“I will use your vocal cords as floss.”

“That’s kinky, Sakura-kun!”

Sakura springs up, indignantly crying, “Shaddup, you pervert! You scoundrol!”

Suo holds a hand to his heart, “Moi?”

Sakura goes to swat him with the pillow, but Suo dodges. Sakura switches to trying to smother him with it instead. Suo holds Sakura at bay by his wrists, laughing brightly.

“Okay, okay! I yield,” Suo calls. “I’m sorry I’m such a caring friend who wants to help you fall asleep with a soothing lullaby. Obviously, I should have known you have no taste.”

Sakura huffs and falls back into his own futon. He winces at the twinge that sends through his skull. “Well, your stupidity is not helping. I’ll never go to sleep at this rate.”

“Ye of little faith,” Suo grins. “Come here and let me try something.”

Sakura glares suspiciously at Suo, but begrudgingly nestles into his blankets. He blindly gropes for his pillow until he finds it by touch, dragging it up to squish his face in it. He’s less tired now, but the pain in his head is steadily rising again.

He closes his eyes, ignoring the sounds of Suo settling in next to him.

For a beat, there is only his own quiet breathing to occupy himself.

And then, he feels a hand settle gently atop his head.

He almost jerks away, his eyes flying open to the sight of Suo leaning over him. The boy sits cross-legged at the head of his futon, his body angled towards Sakura.

His head rests in one palm, while the other is on Sakura. His earrings dangle, entrancing mobiles that heighten Suo’s beauty.

He’s smiling, soft and gentle and it makes Sakura’s heart seize up and body freeze. Abruptly, he’s reminded of earlier that day when he’d woken to a similar sight. His wide eyes watch Suo’s face for any change in expression.

But Suo does nothing but smile at Sakura like Sakura is worth smiling for.

Sakura’s cheeks feel warm. He looks away.

“This okay?” Suo asks, a quiet rasp.

Sakura swallows, closing his eyes shut. “...Yeah,” he chokes out.

Suo begins to move his hand, his fingers threading through Sakura’s hair. He’s mesmerized by the way the strands of white and black wind together. He’s always wanted to touch Sakura’s hair, to watch the sight of the colors blending in his hands. It’s as soft as it looks.

Sakura tingles where Suo touches, his skin alive with electricity. He’s reduced to a mindless puddle of a person. No wonder cats love this shit.

He’s never felt anything so amazing, so-

Comforting.

This is the most care he’s ever received. It’s thrilling and terrifying and everything he’s never let himself hope to have.

He remains frozen, muscles locked up. Scared he’ll somehow fuck up again and Suo will stop or leave or hate him.

“Relax,” Suo whispers, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And slowly, it works. Tension bleeds out from Sakura’s clenched form. His thoughts and worries slowly melt away beneath Suo’s tender touch.

Gently, peacefully, Sakura falls asleep.

—

His dreams are a haze. The sensation of rain, clouds that refuse to part. He runs up a hill with no end, finds himself in halls with no doors. Relief is always just out of reach.

He’s a small child, watching his lunch tray get knocked from his hands. Milk, rice and tomatoes go spilling across the tiled floor. He hasn’t eaten in two days.

He’s in primary school, tentatively reaching out to the other outcast at the library. He thought they’d had a connection. Some shared understanding when they chose to sit near each other. But the boy looks at him with those eyes of disgust when he tries-

He’s a preteen and his new foster parents let him have his own room across from theirs. They don’t hide him away like a dirty secret. They feed him regularly. For two weeks, it seems there’s care without expectation. Blissfully ignorant, until his foster father steps into Sakura’s room and locks the door behind himself-

He gasps awake, sitting up abruptly. His breath leaves him in heaving gulps, like his body has forgotten how to process oxygen.

The nausea rises like a thunderclap, sudden and deafening. The sensation overtakes him, flooding his mouth with saliva. His ears ring. Everything narrows, his vision pinholing.

He rolls out of his futon, throwing the cover off himself with little grace. He barely remembers to go from the other side, Suo taking up the space he’d usually rise from. He half-crawls to the bathroom, an undignified gurgle leaving him in the process.

The movement is in snatches, lurching footsteps, his frame smacking into the wall on the way. His head is in the toilet before he knows it.

He gags, hacking and coughing and heaving. Chunks of food no longer identifiable rush up, dropping into the water with heavy plops. Liquid rushes, warm and unnatural in its flow, caressing his throat meanly upon exit. The fluid finds its way up his nasal passages, dripping hotly from his nose as it pours heavy from his mouth. The sounds are almost as horrible as the sensations.

He can barely draw breath, his gasps not enough to combat the rising panic within him. He can taste acid, the tang of it rancid on his tongue. It sends him gagging again, this time choking until a flood of bile follows, viscous and thick with mucous.

He wheezes roughly, feeling like he has accidentally breathed in the vomit and trapped it in his windpipe. He coughs harshly, his pinched shut eyes leaking a few unavoidable tears on reflex. In his mind, he begs for this moment to end.

Please, he thinks, please stop.

But it doesn’t. Saliva still drips from his mouth, running down his chin. He heaves again, dry and aching. His stomach cramps, the muscles in a frenzy as they try to expel what isn’t there.

Gasping and coughing, feeling like he can’t catch his breath, like the world is and only will be this horrible fracture in time.

A hand brushes his back, light and delicate.

He cringes, barking, “Don’t touch me!” His shrinking form almost falls against the tub, one arm still trying to stay clutched to the ceramic bowl of the toilet.

The touch retreats immediately.

He drags himself upright, the motion wholly exhausting, and rests his forehead on the edge of the toilet, uncaring of the germs. His shoulders tremble, air rattling in his chest. He feels hot and cold at the same time. He knows logically that he can breathe, is breathing, even if it’s fast and feathery and not right, but somehow it feels like he’s dying and there’s just not enough oxygen in the room.

Someone says his name. For a minute, Sakura isn’t sure who.

“Sakura,” they try. “Sakura, it’s okay.”

“Sakura, please, it’s okay. Try to take a deep breath.”

“Sakura…”

“Haruka!”

The desperate shout of his given name jolts him. He coughs, lifting his head and taking a small startled breath.

But a breath nonetheless, as if the shock somehow restarted him.

His brain takes a moment to catch up, unsure of where he is. He catalogues his sweaty form, crumpled against a cold toilet bowl. Textured tile floor, steady drip drip from the faucet.

His-

Bathroom?

“Suo?” He croaks, blinking blearily as he registers who is with him. It’s still dark, barely enough light for him to see the figure of his vice captain crouched feet away.

“Hello, Sakura-kun,” Suo murmurs. “I apologize for overstepping.”

Sakura’s not sure what he’s talking about. Why is Suo here?

Suo…is taking care of him. At his apartment. After Sakura got hurt. Suo, who made him tea and smiles at him all the time and feeds him snack and protects their class and…and protects Sakura.

And then he thinks of the anguished yell still echoing in his ears, of his name (his name!) spoken with care and urgency.

He wants to tell Suo it’s okay, but he can’t.

He’s too busy sobbing.

He reaches blindly and Suo is suddenly there, crowding into Sakura’s space. Suo reaches back, letting Sakura clamber into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Sakura cries, “I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he’s sorry for. Waking Suo, vomiting. Needing him, needing to be coddled like a child. Crying on him like a worthless idiot. “Sorry, sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Suo shushes, cradling Sakura close like he’s something precious, uncaring of the mess. He stands up easily and Sakura clings on, arms wrapped tight around Suo’s neck.

He carries them back to the futons, murmuring assurances the whole way. When he lays them down, he lays with Sakura settled on top of himself. Their bodies are melded together, Sakura’s head tucked beneath Suo’s chin.

Sakura continues crying, mumbling unintelligible apologies between heartbreaking sobs.

“Sakura,” Suo tries, pressing his lips to the top of Sakura’s sweaty head. “Please, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

This causes Sakura to cry harder, the words splintering some fractured part of himself even further.

—

He wears himself out after thirty minutes. His cries taper off into quiet sniffles.

Suo runs a soothing hand up and down his back. He comes back to his body feeling the warmth of Suo’s hand.

Suo’s shirt beneath his cheek is damp. He can smell the salt of his tears and taste snot on his tongue. He reaches to move, to roll over into his own futon, but Suo’s arms tighten around him.

“Stay,” Suo murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of Sakura’s sweaty head.

“I got you gross,” he mumbles, rubbing his face tiredly in the closest dry spot on Suo’s chest he can find. It is closer to Suo’s armpit, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I don’t care,” Suo says softly. “I want to hold you.”

“Pervert,” Sakura chides.

“Attaining my peace of mind through physical affection, Sakura-kun. If that is perverted, then I am shameless about it.”

“I am way too tired to figure out whatever you just said.” Sakura said, closing his eyes. “I’ma kick yer ass tomorrow for it though I think.”

Suo held in his laugh, but warmth bloomed in his chest and he laid his cheek across the top of Sakura’s head as the boy rapidly drifted off. He was so gone for this impossible person.

Suo would scorch the world for Sakura. Would pressurize the ashes until he could give Sakura diamonds from the remains.

Suo’s fierce warmth and passion warred with the soft devastation fighting for purchase in him.

Suo has heard Sakura’s laugh, the quiet break of it over silence as everyone fell hush in reverence. The hesitance of it, the sound raspy as if not often used. The first sound of it had stalled Suo’s heart for a beat, then two, before sending his blood rushing in a frenzy. His emotions had overwhelmed him. Joy and admiration, because if Sakura could laugh like that, then the boy was definitely healing. That bittersweet note of feeling near the end because god, it sounded like Sakura barely knew how to laugh. His laughter, while still not commonplace, had at least grown in frequency enough that Suo could recall variations of its sound and cadence from an array of memories.

Suo could usually imagine it as easily as he could picture the shape of an apple, and yet his mind now could do neither.

Suo’s mind instead replayed the anguished cries of Sakura over and over on a loop. That first breathy gasp, before all that horror and pain spilled out in a rush of tears the other could barely contain. The trembling hands that had blindly reached to clutch at the fabric of Suo’s shirt, the broken “sorrys” that spilled endless from quivering lips, inspersed between bouts of heartwrenching sobs.

Suo can still feel the crack it wrenched open in him, yawning and desperate.

Suo never wants to hear Sakura make those sounds again. Never wants Sakura to feel such misery. What nightmare could fuel such cries? What torment from the past could draw such agonized tears from Sakura?

Suo would lay waste to any and all who would dare cause Sakura pain.

If only Suo could fight Sakura’s past, his memories. If only Suo could extract Sakura’s past demons as surely as surgeons had excised remnants of his eye.

But no, Suo could only hold him through it.

He’d immediately woken to the feel of Sakura restlessly wiggling and mumbling. When Suo turned to look at him, he’d seen the glow of sweat on Sakura’s skin, reflective and glistening in the scant moonlight that cut through the slats covering the sliding doors. His cover wrapped messily around his calves, his face stuck in a grimace of discomfort.

In the two seconds it took Suo to process the scene, Sakura was already up and stumbling away to the restroom.

Suo held himself back from helping Sakura, not wanting to frighten him, had watched helplessly as the boy wretched violently into the toilet. The worry had been visceral, knowing what the doctor said earlier. But still, something in him told him this sickness hadn’t been from the concussion.

The sight of Sakura curled over the toilet like a wilting flower had been painful, squeezing at his heart in ways Suo had never realized possible.

Nothing compared to the torment of Sakura’s tears. The waterfall of them Suo had feared would never cease. The helplessness tempered by the knowledge that surely this is what Sakura needed.

As cleansing as he hopes the experience was for Sakura, he isn’t itching for a repeat experience, blessed as he was with the opportunity to hold the other through the devastation. A boon and a bane, having Sakura right where he’s longed to have him in his arms but for reasons that are altogether terrible.

He’d rather never hold him again than Sakura ever experience that pain, would rip his own heart from his chest if he could make it so.

Still, Suo can appreciate the level of trust extended to him, whether on purpose or a moment of circumstance. The chance to show some of the care he feels is benediction after such obvious ruination of his favorite person.

Suo commits the feel of Sakura in his arms to memory. He runs his nose along the crown of the other boy’s head, valiantly pushing Sakura’s moment of vulnerability away, knowing how much it would irk Sakura if he lingered too long on that moment. Sakura would be pissed at Suo if he ever brought up his perceived weakness, as it surely would be considered in Sakura’s eyes.

The echoes of the sound lingers, fragmented and haunting, but Suo is an old hand at ignoring memories best left behind. The frequency will taper off and the memory will be lost to time and better moments before he knows it.

Suo would have to do his best to act as normal as possible tomorrow while he waits for that to happen. Suo is patient, knowing the better moments will come as long as he is by Sakura’s side.

For now, in this moment, he tightens his grip and leans into the fragile hope blossoming in his chest, blooming where his skin meets Sakura’s like a flower in a field of grass.