Dis Aliter Visum - Chapter 97 - 2,516 words
Note: the fluffiest fluff of fluff.
Beta-reader: unbeta'ed, unedited.
Chapter summary: A quiet moment.
Chapter 97
Kurapica stood above Kuroro's convalescent bed for the nth time that night. Sunlight was just starting to filter around the heavy dark grey curtains that covered the small, dirty windows of the motel room. All night, he'd moved from the uncomfortable desk chair, to standing over Kuroro's bed, looking down at the man who had murdered his entire clan, his parents, Pairo - the man who had made him feel more anger, more pain, more pleasure than anyone ever had.
And here he was, still unconscious, but alive - because of Kurapica.
He'd healed him.
He told himself that it was only because Kuroro and his troupe still held the Scarlet Eyes, but even he could taste the lie in his thoughts, in the unspoken words that he forced himself to think.
He leaned over Kuroro's still body and slid the tips of his fingers over the Spider Head's cheek, then tilted his head and let out a soft, barely audible sigh.
“What am I doing?” he murmured, then let his hand fall as he straightened up.
“Whatever it is, you don't need to stop on my account,” Kuroro mumbled softly.
Kurapica's chest squeezed in tight and he grabbed the older man's shoulders, which elicited a groan of pain from the Ryodan leader.
“You're awake,” Kurapica exclaimed before suddenly letting go. “I - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“It's fine,” Kuroro assured him.
His eyes slid open a crack and he bunched his muscles, as if trying to push himself up. Kurapica was there in an instant, helping him sit up. It took a bit of work, but together, they managed to get him more or less upright. Kurapica put all of the pillows he could find behind the taller man's back.
When Kurapica straightened up, Kuroro was looking at him with the most bemused expression on his definitively, annoyingly handsome face.
“I -” the blond began, then realized that he didn't know what he was supposed to say. “I couldn't heal you completely,” he added after a moment. “What I did tired me far too much. I'll finish shortly.”
“You healed me,” Kuroro said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I released your nen and the first thing that you did was to heal me.”
“I couldn't let you die, could I?”
Kurapica fussed at the pillows so that he wouldn't have to look at the older man. He couldn't have just let him die. He couldn't -
He could hear the sound of the fight, hear Kuroro say his name. He was there again, turning, seeing blood run crimson between Kuroro's fingers, fingers that had touched him so tenderly, so possessively, so... so....
He swallowed hard, forcing the images down.
“You still hold the Eyes,” he added.
“Lucky for me,” Kuroro said blandly.
When Kurapica leaned back, the older man still had the same puzzled expression on his face. Kurapica stared back in silence, refusing to give anything away. He bore it for as long as he could manage.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he finally said.
“And how am I looking at you?” the older man asked, still not looking away.
“Like some artwork that you are appraising.”
“I can't figure you out,” Kuroro admitted, surprising the blond.
“Lucky for me,” Kurapica turned the comment back on him, then sharply turned away. “Anyway, I'm making coffee. Two cups?”
“If you please,” Kuroro said, and the Kuruta could hear that perplexed expression in his voice.
Kurapica busied himself with making the brew, trying to organize his thoughts. By the time the coffee machine was started up, he still didn't know how to deal with the older man’s apprising gaze.
“So,” Kuroro started saying, drawing the blond's attention back to himself, “what have I missed?”
“Not much,” Kurapica said, turning around and leaning against the dresser. “You got yourself stupidly stabbed, multiple times at that. Whatever was going through your mind?”
He kept his tone light, but he still felt the anguish, the fear, the anger at seeing that blood run red, red like his eyes, like the eyes of his people. Blood red on Kuroro, garrish over his pale skin and dark clothing. The older man falling, falling and not getting up again.
“I was -” Kuroro began, bringing Kurapica back into the present, but then he oddly aborted whatever he was going to say. Instead, he tilted his head and stared at the blond for a moment. “The first wound was with a poisoned blade.”
“A little poison shouldn't bother you,” Kurapica pointed out. “Didn't you feel it take action? You could have done something about it, I'm sure. A man like you surely has some ways to negate the effects of any sort of poison known to man.”
Kuroro had a strange expression for a split-second, but it was gone too quickly for the blond to properly analyze.
“I was... distracted,” Kuroro admitted, then something akin to a sheepish look flickered over his face.
“So,” Kurapica commented, turning back to the coffee machine and ripping one packet of sugar open so that he could pour it into the paper cup, which he then took to the older man, “did you find some valuables that made you happy in that vault?”
The bemused expression returned to Kuroro's handsome face.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the cup of coffee from his hand, but rather than take a sip, he fixed a calm gaze on the younger man. “There were indeed unimaginable amounts of valuables,” he admitted at length.
Kurapica returned to the coffee machine to fix himself a cup as well.
“You've likely taken a fair share with you,” he said. “No wonder you were distracted.”
“I wasn't -” Kuroro began, then cut himself off.
When the blond turned around with an inquisitive look, Kuroro closed his mouth again. He brought his cup to his mouth and took a sip, then set it back down onto the nightstand.
“I don't know how your healing ability works,” he said, “but I'm still knackered.”
Kurapica shrugged, then sighed.
“I sped up your body's natural ability to heal itself,” he explained. “It uses a lot of energy.”
He didn't mention healing him along with some of his own nen.
Kuroro tilted his head.
“You came to me when you could have fled,” he commented. “The smart thing would have been to flee. But you carried me, and then you healed me. Why?”
Kurapica stared at him, his heart clenching painfully again. How could he tell Kuroro? How was he to tell him of the bone-deep terror that had assailed him when he had turned at the sound of his name and seen the older man getting stabbed, seen the blood running red over pale skin, seen Kuroro drop to the floor and not get up again?
He wanted to stop thinking about it. He didn’t want to remember anymore. But the memories kept flashing in his mind, over and over again. He kept seeing Kuroro collapse, the mansion guards falling back, violently shoved aside as Kurapica ploughed through them, desperate to reach the older man before - seeing Kuroro on the floor, skin pale, blood red; hearing the sound of battle, somewhere that seemed far away, far, where Kuroro wasn’t - carrying Kuroro, his weight on Kurapica’s shoulder, guards fleeing before him, crying of a red-eyed demon - by the car, hands shaking, trying desperately to jab the key into the lock, scratching at the old paint all around it, the trees that Kuroro had so clumsily drawn swaying noisily in the stormy wind, the smell of rain to come - driving and cursing, praying, pleading, threatening; Kuroro on the back seat, silent and still as death -
Kurapica forcefully pulled back from the memories, his eyes intent on Kuroro, the Spider Head clean of blood, his unnervingly dark eyes open, alive, well, safe. Kurapica shoved aside the fear, the anguish, the panic, and took a steadying breath.
“I reacted without thinking,” he finally admitted, his blue eyes fixed on the Spider Head. “The smart thing would have been to run, but it seems that I - I cannot be entirely objective when it comes to - to you.”
And that was a problem, one he was sure was part of Kuroro’s plan and would make the older man happy. But when he met the Ryodan leaders’s gaze again, there was a serious, thoughtful frown on Kuroro’s face. They stared at each other in silence, the room eerily silent as they gauged each other. Kurapica had the distinct impression of being an insect getting pinned into a case by an intrigued, yet cruel, collector.
“I see,” the Spider Head said at last, and he extended his hand towards Kurapica in a clear invitation.
Kurapica’s eyes slid down to the proffered hand, and after a moment, he took the few steps which separated him from the older man. Kuroro linked his fingers with the blond’s and reached up with his other hand so he could touch Kurapica’s cheek gently. The younger man’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Kuroro’s eyes immediately focused on his mouth. Kurapica knew that look, knew it very well by now. He let the Spider Head pull him down into a surprisingly gentle kiss. The difference in height, with Kuroro sitting on the bed, made it difficult for Kurapica to keep his balance, so he let the older man pull him down to sit on his lap.
“Wait, we shouldn’t -” the blond started in protest.
“Shh,” Kuroro whispered, “just for a bit.”
He kissed him again, his hand wrapping around the base of Kurapica’s skull. His thumb was brushing up and down in the golden hair and the Kuruta shivered, then relaxed. There was something so soothing, so peaceful about kissing Kuroro like this, just lips exploring lips, relearning the shape of each other’s mouths, soft sighs in between them. By the time Kuroro’s tongue finally slid forward, the blond was relaxed and pliant in the older man’s arms.
Kuroro’s hand slid down the length of Kurapica’s back and he caressed Kurapica’s left buttocks, eliciting a soft moan from the blond. Kuroro’s lips became more insistent, his hand more demanding, and Kurapica pulled away.
“No,” he murmured, “I’m sor-” he cut himself off, as he had nothing to apologise for. “I’m tired,” he said instead. “I would like to rest.”
He was prepared to argue the point, expecting Kuroro to push like he always did, but to his surprised, the older man simply nodded.
“All right,” he said, and pressed another soft kiss on Kurapica’s lips. “We both could use some rest. Come to bed. We’ll sleep.”
“But the coffee?” Kurapica asked.
“Leave it,” Kuroro suggested. For once, it wasn’t a decision made for them both, it was a suggestion, which Kurapica was at liberty to refuse. The small lilt at the end made it nearly a question, as if Kuroro were actually asking Kurapica’s input. “I think we would both benefit more from sleep than from caffeine.”
Kurapica looked at him for a long, quiet moment, wondering what to do. The smell of the hot brew was tempting, but he did feel extremely tired from the events of the previous night. Finally, he nodded.
“All right,” he said, “let me get on the other side of the -”
He didn’t have a chance to finish what he was saying, because Kuroro had picked him up and easily rolled him onto the other side of the mattress. He kissed him again, then pulled back with a mischievous grin at the younger man.
“You were saying?” Kuroro asked teasingly.
“Nothing,” Kurapica muttered with mock-annoyance.
He pulled Kuroro down into another kiss, then let him go. Kuroro grinned and, lying on his his side facing the blond, he pulled him into an embrace.
“What are you doing?” the blond wanted to know.
“Holding you,” Kuroro said with a teasing grin.
“I can’t sleep if you’re holding me this close,” Kurapica protested.
“Can’t you?” the older man challenged him.
There was no reasoning him when Kuroro had made up his mind, so Kurapica let out an amused sigh and put his hand on Kuroro’s eyes to hide his gaze and gave him a gentle shove.
“You’re impossible,” he said.
“Clearly you like getting the best of impossible things,” Kuroro answered with a grin.
“Shut up,” the blond said with another amused huff.
He settled in Kuroro’s loose embrace and forced himself to relax as best he could. It wasn’t easy. He hadn’t slept this close to someone in so, so very long. It had been one thing to share a bed with Kuroro, but it wasn’t quite the same to actually be held in someone’s arms and try to sleep. Sounds, which had been easy to ignore as they chatted, now seemed too loud. There was an argument in another room of the motel, which the thin walls did little to muffle. Every few minutes, cars drove by. Doors opened and closed. People walking in front of the building were cheering and chatting excitedly.
This wasn’t going to work.
Just as Kurapica was about to tell Kuroro to let go, the older man spoke up.
“So you can drive,” he said, without accusation.
It was a simple observation, but Kurapica winced all the same.
“I know how to drive,” he admitted at last. “I had no actual practice, really. And I don’t hold a permit.”
“Between robbing rich idiots of their most prized possessions and driving without a license, I think the license is the least of your worries.”
Kurapica looked at the man sharing his bed, but Kuroro had his eyes closed and his face neutral.
“It would still be stupid to be pulled over and have to explain why I don’t have a permit,” Kurapica said. “That wouldn’t make such a smooth escape. Plus -” He stopped himself, wondering if he should even say the next part out loud. “Plus, I didn’t want to waste energy and attention on driving. I wanted to keep my focus on you. I didn’t trust you.”
“With good reasons,” Kuroro said with a slight nod, finally cracking an eye open. “Past tense. Does it mean that you trust me now?”
Kurapica rejected his initial knee-jerk reaction to refute it and shoot him down fast. Instead, he thought about it for a moment, wondering to what extent he had let Kuroro get close to him.
“On some things,” he finally said, but did not elaborate.
“That’s good enough for me,” Kuroro said, closing his eye again.
Kurapica looked at him in silence, watched his relaxed expression and thought about their situation, about them, and how they had both ended up here and now, sharing a bed, preferring to kiss rather than have intercourse, trusting each other, respecting each other. He believed these thoughts should worry him, make him anxious, but it wasn’t the case. He found himself relaxing against Kuroro’s chest, and he closed his eyes, and finally drifted off to sleep.
Beta-reader: unbeta'ed, unedited.
Chapter summary: A quiet moment.
Chapter 97
Kurapica stood above Kuroro's convalescent bed for the nth time that night. Sunlight was just starting to filter around the heavy dark grey curtains that covered the small, dirty windows of the motel room. All night, he'd moved from the uncomfortable desk chair, to standing over Kuroro's bed, looking down at the man who had murdered his entire clan, his parents, Pairo - the man who had made him feel more anger, more pain, more pleasure than anyone ever had.
And here he was, still unconscious, but alive - because of Kurapica.
He'd healed him.
He told himself that it was only because Kuroro and his troupe still held the Scarlet Eyes, but even he could taste the lie in his thoughts, in the unspoken words that he forced himself to think.
He leaned over Kuroro's still body and slid the tips of his fingers over the Spider Head's cheek, then tilted his head and let out a soft, barely audible sigh.
“What am I doing?” he murmured, then let his hand fall as he straightened up.
“Whatever it is, you don't need to stop on my account,” Kuroro mumbled softly.
Kurapica's chest squeezed in tight and he grabbed the older man's shoulders, which elicited a groan of pain from the Ryodan leader.
“You're awake,” Kurapica exclaimed before suddenly letting go. “I - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“It's fine,” Kuroro assured him.
His eyes slid open a crack and he bunched his muscles, as if trying to push himself up. Kurapica was there in an instant, helping him sit up. It took a bit of work, but together, they managed to get him more or less upright. Kurapica put all of the pillows he could find behind the taller man's back.
When Kurapica straightened up, Kuroro was looking at him with the most bemused expression on his definitively, annoyingly handsome face.
“I -” the blond began, then realized that he didn't know what he was supposed to say. “I couldn't heal you completely,” he added after a moment. “What I did tired me far too much. I'll finish shortly.”
“You healed me,” Kuroro said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I released your nen and the first thing that you did was to heal me.”
“I couldn't let you die, could I?”
Kurapica fussed at the pillows so that he wouldn't have to look at the older man. He couldn't have just let him die. He couldn't -
He could hear the sound of the fight, hear Kuroro say his name. He was there again, turning, seeing blood run crimson between Kuroro's fingers, fingers that had touched him so tenderly, so possessively, so... so....
He swallowed hard, forcing the images down.
“You still hold the Eyes,” he added.
“Lucky for me,” Kuroro said blandly.
When Kurapica leaned back, the older man still had the same puzzled expression on his face. Kurapica stared back in silence, refusing to give anything away. He bore it for as long as he could manage.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he finally said.
“And how am I looking at you?” the older man asked, still not looking away.
“Like some artwork that you are appraising.”
“I can't figure you out,” Kuroro admitted, surprising the blond.
“Lucky for me,” Kurapica turned the comment back on him, then sharply turned away. “Anyway, I'm making coffee. Two cups?”
“If you please,” Kuroro said, and the Kuruta could hear that perplexed expression in his voice.
Kurapica busied himself with making the brew, trying to organize his thoughts. By the time the coffee machine was started up, he still didn't know how to deal with the older man’s apprising gaze.
“So,” Kuroro started saying, drawing the blond's attention back to himself, “what have I missed?”
“Not much,” Kurapica said, turning around and leaning against the dresser. “You got yourself stupidly stabbed, multiple times at that. Whatever was going through your mind?”
He kept his tone light, but he still felt the anguish, the fear, the anger at seeing that blood run red, red like his eyes, like the eyes of his people. Blood red on Kuroro, garrish over his pale skin and dark clothing. The older man falling, falling and not getting up again.
“I was -” Kuroro began, bringing Kurapica back into the present, but then he oddly aborted whatever he was going to say. Instead, he tilted his head and stared at the blond for a moment. “The first wound was with a poisoned blade.”
“A little poison shouldn't bother you,” Kurapica pointed out. “Didn't you feel it take action? You could have done something about it, I'm sure. A man like you surely has some ways to negate the effects of any sort of poison known to man.”
Kuroro had a strange expression for a split-second, but it was gone too quickly for the blond to properly analyze.
“I was... distracted,” Kuroro admitted, then something akin to a sheepish look flickered over his face.
“So,” Kurapica commented, turning back to the coffee machine and ripping one packet of sugar open so that he could pour it into the paper cup, which he then took to the older man, “did you find some valuables that made you happy in that vault?”
The bemused expression returned to Kuroro's handsome face.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the cup of coffee from his hand, but rather than take a sip, he fixed a calm gaze on the younger man. “There were indeed unimaginable amounts of valuables,” he admitted at length.
Kurapica returned to the coffee machine to fix himself a cup as well.
“You've likely taken a fair share with you,” he said. “No wonder you were distracted.”
“I wasn't -” Kuroro began, then cut himself off.
When the blond turned around with an inquisitive look, Kuroro closed his mouth again. He brought his cup to his mouth and took a sip, then set it back down onto the nightstand.
“I don't know how your healing ability works,” he said, “but I'm still knackered.”
Kurapica shrugged, then sighed.
“I sped up your body's natural ability to heal itself,” he explained. “It uses a lot of energy.”
He didn't mention healing him along with some of his own nen.
Kuroro tilted his head.
“You came to me when you could have fled,” he commented. “The smart thing would have been to flee. But you carried me, and then you healed me. Why?”
Kurapica stared at him, his heart clenching painfully again. How could he tell Kuroro? How was he to tell him of the bone-deep terror that had assailed him when he had turned at the sound of his name and seen the older man getting stabbed, seen the blood running red over pale skin, seen Kuroro drop to the floor and not get up again?
He wanted to stop thinking about it. He didn’t want to remember anymore. But the memories kept flashing in his mind, over and over again. He kept seeing Kuroro collapse, the mansion guards falling back, violently shoved aside as Kurapica ploughed through them, desperate to reach the older man before - seeing Kuroro on the floor, skin pale, blood red; hearing the sound of battle, somewhere that seemed far away, far, where Kuroro wasn’t - carrying Kuroro, his weight on Kurapica’s shoulder, guards fleeing before him, crying of a red-eyed demon - by the car, hands shaking, trying desperately to jab the key into the lock, scratching at the old paint all around it, the trees that Kuroro had so clumsily drawn swaying noisily in the stormy wind, the smell of rain to come - driving and cursing, praying, pleading, threatening; Kuroro on the back seat, silent and still as death -
Kurapica forcefully pulled back from the memories, his eyes intent on Kuroro, the Spider Head clean of blood, his unnervingly dark eyes open, alive, well, safe. Kurapica shoved aside the fear, the anguish, the panic, and took a steadying breath.
“I reacted without thinking,” he finally admitted, his blue eyes fixed on the Spider Head. “The smart thing would have been to run, but it seems that I - I cannot be entirely objective when it comes to - to you.”
And that was a problem, one he was sure was part of Kuroro’s plan and would make the older man happy. But when he met the Ryodan leaders’s gaze again, there was a serious, thoughtful frown on Kuroro’s face. They stared at each other in silence, the room eerily silent as they gauged each other. Kurapica had the distinct impression of being an insect getting pinned into a case by an intrigued, yet cruel, collector.
“I see,” the Spider Head said at last, and he extended his hand towards Kurapica in a clear invitation.
Kurapica’s eyes slid down to the proffered hand, and after a moment, he took the few steps which separated him from the older man. Kuroro linked his fingers with the blond’s and reached up with his other hand so he could touch Kurapica’s cheek gently. The younger man’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Kuroro’s eyes immediately focused on his mouth. Kurapica knew that look, knew it very well by now. He let the Spider Head pull him down into a surprisingly gentle kiss. The difference in height, with Kuroro sitting on the bed, made it difficult for Kurapica to keep his balance, so he let the older man pull him down to sit on his lap.
“Wait, we shouldn’t -” the blond started in protest.
“Shh,” Kuroro whispered, “just for a bit.”
He kissed him again, his hand wrapping around the base of Kurapica’s skull. His thumb was brushing up and down in the golden hair and the Kuruta shivered, then relaxed. There was something so soothing, so peaceful about kissing Kuroro like this, just lips exploring lips, relearning the shape of each other’s mouths, soft sighs in between them. By the time Kuroro’s tongue finally slid forward, the blond was relaxed and pliant in the older man’s arms.
Kuroro’s hand slid down the length of Kurapica’s back and he caressed Kurapica’s left buttocks, eliciting a soft moan from the blond. Kuroro’s lips became more insistent, his hand more demanding, and Kurapica pulled away.
“No,” he murmured, “I’m sor-” he cut himself off, as he had nothing to apologise for. “I’m tired,” he said instead. “I would like to rest.”
He was prepared to argue the point, expecting Kuroro to push like he always did, but to his surprised, the older man simply nodded.
“All right,” he said, and pressed another soft kiss on Kurapica’s lips. “We both could use some rest. Come to bed. We’ll sleep.”
“But the coffee?” Kurapica asked.
“Leave it,” Kuroro suggested. For once, it wasn’t a decision made for them both, it was a suggestion, which Kurapica was at liberty to refuse. The small lilt at the end made it nearly a question, as if Kuroro were actually asking Kurapica’s input. “I think we would both benefit more from sleep than from caffeine.”
Kurapica looked at him for a long, quiet moment, wondering what to do. The smell of the hot brew was tempting, but he did feel extremely tired from the events of the previous night. Finally, he nodded.
“All right,” he said, “let me get on the other side of the -”
He didn’t have a chance to finish what he was saying, because Kuroro had picked him up and easily rolled him onto the other side of the mattress. He kissed him again, then pulled back with a mischievous grin at the younger man.
“You were saying?” Kuroro asked teasingly.
“Nothing,” Kurapica muttered with mock-annoyance.
He pulled Kuroro down into another kiss, then let him go. Kuroro grinned and, lying on his his side facing the blond, he pulled him into an embrace.
“What are you doing?” the blond wanted to know.
“Holding you,” Kuroro said with a teasing grin.
“I can’t sleep if you’re holding me this close,” Kurapica protested.
“Can’t you?” the older man challenged him.
There was no reasoning him when Kuroro had made up his mind, so Kurapica let out an amused sigh and put his hand on Kuroro’s eyes to hide his gaze and gave him a gentle shove.
“You’re impossible,” he said.
“Clearly you like getting the best of impossible things,” Kuroro answered with a grin.
“Shut up,” the blond said with another amused huff.
He settled in Kuroro’s loose embrace and forced himself to relax as best he could. It wasn’t easy. He hadn’t slept this close to someone in so, so very long. It had been one thing to share a bed with Kuroro, but it wasn’t quite the same to actually be held in someone’s arms and try to sleep. Sounds, which had been easy to ignore as they chatted, now seemed too loud. There was an argument in another room of the motel, which the thin walls did little to muffle. Every few minutes, cars drove by. Doors opened and closed. People walking in front of the building were cheering and chatting excitedly.
This wasn’t going to work.
Just as Kurapica was about to tell Kuroro to let go, the older man spoke up.
“So you can drive,” he said, without accusation.
It was a simple observation, but Kurapica winced all the same.
“I know how to drive,” he admitted at last. “I had no actual practice, really. And I don’t hold a permit.”
“Between robbing rich idiots of their most prized possessions and driving without a license, I think the license is the least of your worries.”
Kurapica looked at the man sharing his bed, but Kuroro had his eyes closed and his face neutral.
“It would still be stupid to be pulled over and have to explain why I don’t have a permit,” Kurapica said. “That wouldn’t make such a smooth escape. Plus -” He stopped himself, wondering if he should even say the next part out loud. “Plus, I didn’t want to waste energy and attention on driving. I wanted to keep my focus on you. I didn’t trust you.”
“With good reasons,” Kuroro said with a slight nod, finally cracking an eye open. “Past tense. Does it mean that you trust me now?”
Kurapica rejected his initial knee-jerk reaction to refute it and shoot him down fast. Instead, he thought about it for a moment, wondering to what extent he had let Kuroro get close to him.
“On some things,” he finally said, but did not elaborate.
“That’s good enough for me,” Kuroro said, closing his eye again.
Kurapica looked at him in silence, watched his relaxed expression and thought about their situation, about them, and how they had both ended up here and now, sharing a bed, preferring to kiss rather than have intercourse, trusting each other, respecting each other. He believed these thoughts should worry him, make him anxious, but it wasn’t the case. He found himself relaxing against Kuroro’s chest, and he closed his eyes, and finally drifted off to sleep.