Day 20 ★ Fic by everlind 'Breakfast' PG-13
20
Breakfast
by everlind
Outside it is pitch-black. In the hazy circle of a lamppost he does some stretches. He shivers and tries not to think of Choutarou's warm body. His warm and very naked body. The very same body that Shishido had half been lying on, with a warm hand cupping his behind territorially. The cold is an experience all on its own this time of the year, the sort that goes beyond clattering teeth and goosebumps. At least the snow and ice is gone. Even he, Shishido Ryou, has to admit that running through a layer of ankle-deep snow is simply stupid. Instead he's hits the gym after work, but he really does prefer running outside and in the morning. There's just something about the solitude, the deserted streets and parks, the stillness of it all… it's sorta liberating.
Alright, that sounds dumb and cliché and pretentious. But, honestly, when it is just him and the rhythm of his breathing and his heart pumping blood and the sound of his feet hitting the ground, that's the moment when he can clear his mind of all the wayward clutter for a while. Order it, sort it out, discard useless rubbish such as anxieties about work and bills and Choutarou's family (read: Choutarou's father).
Today everything is blessedly at ease, there's not much more rumbling about between his ears than the terrible dilemma of what to make for breakfast.
Pancakes or waffles.
Hmm.
Pancakes.
Or.
Waffles.
That's the question.
Neither is a regular staple at their place, usually it's something easy and quick like miso soup and rice, or tamagoyaki when he's got enough eggs. But it is a Saturday and one of those rare occurrences when they both have the whole morning off. That and Choutarou sometimes really likes something as sweet and, er, dough-y like that (he's not such a fan, but whatever, if Choutarou likes it). So now he only has to try and make up his mind about which one to make. Maybe he can start on it right after his shower. Maybe he could, you know, take a plate to bed as a surprise…?
Maybe that's too girly.
Yeah, it totally is.
Way girly.
And he's not. You know. A girl. He's got proof of that in his frickin' pants.
But Choutarou would really like it.
Before his face the exhales crystallize into little clouds. Tiny beads form on the fabric of his scarf. The route along the canal shows it to be cold enough that the grass is covered in a layer of frost. When his foot lands on a wayward tuft sprouting up from a crack in the pavement it crunches. The bridge comes into view. Shishido paces his breathing and turns the whole breakfast dilemma over in his head. He's kinda feeling like pancakes today and-
Hey.
Shishido's perfect tempo falters as he squints.
No, it's nothing. He could've sworn he saw something move. Trick of the water? Some stars manage to fight through light-polluted night sky and show their faces in bobbing pinpricks on the water. But.
No, no he's not wrong. There is something under the bridge. His motions trickle to a stop as he tries to make sense of what he sees. A man. And a kid? No, it's not… well, it's being dragged.
Something in his chest squeezes, hard and sudden. His heart slams into overdrive, the painful sort. Fuck.
Shit. I haven't got my phone on me, Shishido thinks, wildly.
It's not a kid though. Nothing human. It's a small bundle? A bag? No… a… sack?
The man pauses at the edge of the tarmac. Lifts his burden.
"HEY!"
The man jumps.
Heck, even Shishido sorta starts from the sudden, hard and angry bark of his voice. But now that the word is out and the man is looking at him -yeah, definitely some guy, wide-eyed and guilty looking- Shishido feels something steady and sure growing stronger with his absolute fury.
Whatever is in there, it moves. And he's got a pretty good idea what sorta thing it might be.
They stare at each other.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
But the man doesn't answer. No. His eyes make a nervous jump from this sudden stranger standing there, challenging him, and the sack in his hand.
He drops it.
There's a sickening moment where his whole being lurches.
It hits the water. Almost immediately it goes under. There's noises. Screaming, pitiful, smothered and terrified screaming -they stop.
Vaguely Shishido knows that the motherfucking bastard is making a scramble up the slippery grass and that's all Shishido will ever see of him ever again, because he's running, faster than he knew he was capable of and then jumping - a graceful dive aimed at some bubbles drifting on the surface, the only marker of where the bag sank.
It doesn't occur to him how foolishly dangerous this is until the cold seizes him. Liquid ice, but worse, if possible. Lethal, most certainly, with his warm, relaxed muscles and his heightened heartbeat. Definitely worse -everything feels like it's being crushed, his body and the life in him, his vivid heart, like a sudden vice - too fast to even hurt much. His breath isn't even wrung from his lungs, it just stays trapped there as everything shuts down, then dribbles in lazy blobs past his lips. There's panic, distantly, not much more than an internal animalistic cry of 'no!', of knowing this is not okay and needing to get away before he stops.
That he feels the rough fabric hit his fingers almost instantly is a precious gem of luck beyond words. That he can still -despite his contorting muscles- find the surface, hold on to the sack and turn towards bank is nothing short of a miracle.
But that would've meant jack shit if there hadn't been a hand grabbing the sodden fabric of his sweater and hauling him up, bodily, using his clothing to all but roll him onto the ground, before attempting to tear the cold layers up and away from him. Shishido makes a harsh, angry noise, something like a wordless curse, feels his body jerk like that of a cowering creature in response when he's touched. He wants to huddle, but he's human and he remembers why he just did the most stupid thing he's ever done in his life.
"I-I-I-I-III a-aam-am-am f-f-f-f-f-fine," Shishido manages. "L-l-l-l-look-" he points at the motionless bag.
Eyes glower at him. "Stand up and move, you idiot," Kaidoh snarls and turns away to the dark heap leaking a pool onto the flagstones.
Moving hurts. Breathing hurts. But he can get up and he can still move and that's what he does, for barely twenty seconds. Because Kaidoh opens the bag and looks inside.
There's no words to describe the expression on his face. His chin drops as he lowers the fabric. In almost one smooth movement he comes to his feet and proceeds with helping Shishido out of his heavy and drenched clothing. He leaves the sweatpants, but the sweater goes, and the two shirts underneath, too, as well as the scarf. Meanwhile he gets out of his own, only to divide it -his flimsy windbreaker for himself and the rest of the clothing -a shirt and a sweater, both warm and slightly damp from his body- for Shishido. He's awfully efficient with his movements, controlled, fast, but no fumbling even once.
Shishido feels like he could fucking cry when the warm sweater sinks around his aching torso.
"You fool," Kaidoh says and starts to rub his numb hands between his own. That fucking hurts -like knives slicing into the bones of his hands, but besides a hissing inhale he bears it, gritting his teeth until the nothing makes way for the sensation of his skin being sandpapered off. Worse in a way, but a good kind of worse, considering.
"D-d-did he get aw-away?" Shishido asks.
Kaidoh nods.
"Fuck," Shishido breathes, closing his eyes.
Fuck.
There's a silence. Kaidoh keeps rubbing his hands. They feel raw, but he knows it is his own damn fault and he's so stupidly grateful that he can still feel the pain. What an class act idiot. It's January. Middle of fucking winter. Some twist of the climate and that might've been ice right there. Unwillingly he wonders what that scumbag would've come up with then. A cudgel? Poison? No, don't think about it.
His throat feels tight, his eyes strangely hot. "What-"
Goddammit. He can't, he just can't ask. God fucking damn it.
"Kittens," Kaidoh answers.
There's a noise.
Mewling.
Kaidoh stops worrying his hands and looks at him. Shishido stares back.
Again it comes, small, threadbare. Weak.
Both their eyes go towards the bag. Already Shishido is moving, his hands being released and taking a step closer. Sinking to his knees. What he sees when he opens the bag is something that will come to visit him later, in fever dreams and nightmares.
Maybe, for some people, the monster in the closet is some flesh-hungry creature, or public humiliation and drowning. But inside that burlap sack are seven dead, tiny bodies. Their eyes are forever open. Blue - the particular hue of newborns. Filmy, now. Their little feet are not even the size of the pad of his pinky. They are so small. Even the palm of his hand looks brute compared to them. So defenseless. So perfect. So innocent. Unknowing of the cruelty that would be served to them. How could anybody do this? These little creatures, with their tiny, beating hearts, and their tiny working lungs and their red blood and their unseeing eyes and their downy fur. They live and they move and are born of another creature and feel pain and fear -screaming when the cold water tore at their infantile bodies. No more.
Never again.
Was he rough when he took them away from their mother and dropped them in this crude bag? Did his hands perhaps squeeze too hard even then -like handling objects? All those kittens in one bag. Surely… surely the ones at the bottom would already have… have…
And there it is again. One small call.
Shishido puts his hand inside. Its little brothers and sisters are already stiffening, little mouths open to seek the air that wouldn't come, eyes wide, too wide, and very, very dead.
He doesn't gag. He doesn't flinch.
The kitten in his hand is terribly small and terribly weak. Its fur sticks to its desperately heaving ribs, an odd color that is not white and not brown and not beige, but a mottled, irregular mix.
That is all Shishido sees before he is lifting his clothes -Kaidoh's clothes- and slipping it underneath very, very, very carefully, arm cradling and the other yanking at the neckline to allow some air down as he rests it against his bare chest. It mewls and trashes.
A right little fighter.
Both of them shiver as they kneel in the puddle that rings the sack.
Shishido looks at Kaidoh. Who nods. "Go home, quickly."
His eyes fall to the dark, still heap.
"I'll take care of them," Kaidoh tells him.
"But-"
"I live closer by," he interjects. "Don't be stupid. You're both going to wind up either sick or dead if you linger."
"Your clothes-" Shishido points out.
"I'll find your address" Kaidoh says.
Shishido makes a face.
"Inui-senpai," Kaidoh explains, cheeks going pink.
"Ah."
Neither of them says another word.
Shishido rises, whole body weak and limp and slow, so damn slow -like falling asleep. It would've dominated him if it hadn't been for the wet little body and the erratic little squirming against his bare skin, reminding him that he's got to go on for someone else, too.
"Thank you," he says. It doesn't even come with a sour aftertaste. Kaidoh fucking saved him. Them.
Kaidoh only nods and then makes a rather pissed-off looking shooing motion at him. So Shishido goes.
*
The way home seems impossibly long. Walking as fast as he can amounts to a just pitiful crawl, part trying not to jostle the abused kitten against his chest and part not being able to go faster. It is feeling his pants adhere themselves to his legs, the skin stick and finally give as he forces one foot before the other and the fabric is wrenched loose. His heavy, sodden runners are like leaden weights clamped around his ankles -he cannot sense his feet. Wind blasts into his face, deadening his cheeks, his mouth, his nose, cold enough to stiffen his hair up like a porcupine. And that's bad, bad enough Shishido half feels he'd like to bawl like a five year old child out of sheer misery, but that's nothing compared to the terror that overtakes his every rational thought as the kitten moves less and less.
Normally the distance from the canal homewards takes him less than fifteen minutes if he runs at a good clip. Now he shuffles, one arm cramped against his body, kitten resting on it, the other held before it, cradling it against the sting of the wind. With no means to check he'll never be sure, but he guesses it takes him about trice as long.
Perhaps that's why Choutarou is already up when he enters. Awake and worried. Shishido is, with great difficulty, attempting to toe off his trainers when he can hear Choutarou stomp towards the genkan saying, "Next time you are taking your phone, whether it bugs you or-"
He stops.
Shishido's teeth clatter.
"RYOU-"
The heat of his partner's palms fucking hurts when he lays them on him. All warmth that he radiates seems to burn his skin, like red-hot brands marking his flesh, and Shishido winces involuntarily. The hands becomes gentler, less frantic, seeking and feeling and checking, brown eyes flying over him to look for wrongs and pains.
"You lips are blue, what-"
Fingers start to work on his clothes, brows furrowing when he doesn't recognize them, eyes full of questions and worry.
"Choutarou," Shishido says, carefully nudging him backwards. He doesn't budge. Not until there is a querulous, but unmistakable mewl from under his sweater. Carefully slipping a hand under the hem he extracts the kitten as gently as he can, feeling the erratic pulse of its heart on his fingers, its fragile ribs heaving. It is still chilly to the touch. "C-could you-"
Choutarou often does things that break Shishido's heart in the best possible way ever. Like now, the sudden change in his eyes, the softening of his mouth, how he cups his large hands to receive it.
The kitten looks pitifully small. Weak and exhausted it lays nearly limp, only the head bobbing on her shivering neck, like an oversized flower on a weary stalk. It flops onto its side, legs flailing weakly -it is a she. A girl.
For a moment Choutarou looks at the precious burden he's holding, shaking his head a little. Then he closes his eyes, hard. "Ryou…" he sighs.
Shishido, trying not to look sheepish, makes a puddle where he stands.
"Go take a bath," Choutarou says, sounding oddly tired suddenly.
With shaking hands he starts to struggle out of the sweater, so he doesn't make a complete mess as he drags his sorry carcass towards the bathroom.
An angry exhale. "Dammit. Do you think I care that you'll drip when you're nearly half frozen?!" His eyes are black and hard and unhappy. "Just- Go."
So he goes, a little confused and, yes, alright, somewhat hurt. First all love and concern and then cool distance. Fuck, whatever, he needs that bath. Choutarou, being thoughtful as he is, had already drawn one for when he came back after his run in the cold January winds. No words describe how it feels to get into that bath. It hurts like hell. A rash of burning hot needles seem to stab over and over into him. His legs, hands and face are the worst. His mouth and nose loose all feeling for a heart stopping moment. It takes all his will to stay sitting down and not make unmanly whimpers of any sort.
The time it takes for his internal body temperature to rise to a respectable level takes ages. As it steadies Shishido begins to feel completely weak and tired, in way he hasn't ever before and he recognizes what a close call it was. For his own sake he tries not to imagine what would've happened if Kaidoh hadn't been there.
He's still got the shakes when he gets out of the bath, but these ones are all exhaustion and belated reaction to what happened. The… the contents of the burlap sack threaten to overtake every single thought. His stomach feels a bit queasy. Instead of his own he nicks Choutarou's bathrobe. It's this huge blue terrycloth number for winter, instead of the usual plain yukata. The hem reaches his ankles, instead hitting of mid-shin like it does on Choutarou. But it is warm and soft and smells of soap and his partner -y'know, all those good things.
On the couch Choutarou sits with his legs crossed. In his lap is a heap of towels, the kitten wedged into the center. Milk stains just about everything -the towels, the front of Choutarou's shirt, the couch and the kitten herself. But when Shishido sees her pink mouth open to accept the corner of cloth soaked in milk, he breathes much easier. Going to sit near the heater without blocking it for the rest of them, he watches Choutarou and the cat struggle with the milk and the cloth.
He's exhausted.
I'll lie down for just a moment, he think to himself. Just for a minute or two.
*
When he wakes up he's in bed, buried under blankets. He recognizes the sheets from the bed in the other room, as well as just about all of the spares.
Out through the window the skies are already darkening. He gets up and walks into the living room. Judging from the discarded shirt and the wad of damp towels, he's just missed another feeding.
Choutarou walks out of the kitchen. His eyes sorta… glide over him and away. "I called the gym to say you weren't coming in for practice." Shishido nods, rubs at his face. On the table is a pile of clothing -his own. From this morning. Seeing him looking, Choutarou clears his throat and says. "Kaidoh-kun came over to deliver those."
And probably explained what happened, Shishido realizes.
"Where's the cat?" he asks.
Choutarou stares at him. Something in his chest turns over. He goes cold. Like falling into the cold water all all over again.
There's a mewl. And then, as though she owns the place, barely old enough to have opened her eyes, comes the kitten. Her tails sticks up like an antenna. She goes to sit on Choutarou's foot as though she owns him, too. Apparently, she does. Seeing as he immediately reaches down to lift her up. She sits on the bed of his hands as though it is her throne and is surveying her kingdom from it in seeming distain. The look she gives Shishido seems to say she isn't very impressed at all.
You're welcome, Shishido thinks sourly.
Another mew, all pink mouth and tiny teeth. Now that she's all dry he can tell she kinda has a… squashed face. Like someone slammed a door against it too hard. Besides the unflattering speckled fur, she trots about on tiny white feet, as though they're covered in tattered socks.
"Kaidoh offered to keep her," Choutarou says, suddenly. "He likes cats."
Shishido blinks. "You don't wanna keep her?"
Choutarou's jaw goes hard and he puts the kitten down to a squeak of protest. His mouth is white when he looks at him. "Sometimes I can't tell whether you are just pretending… or if you really are… this, this-. Tough. And stupid. And careless."
Granted, that makes his jaw drop. "The hell?" he demands. Choutarou is fucking nearly pissing vinegar, that's how angry he is. "What's your damn problem all of a sudden, huh?"
"Look. It… it isn't worth it," Choutarou bites out with great difficulty. "Okay? Maybe that makes me a bad person, but it wouldn't have been worth it."
"Worth it?" he echoes. "Worth what?"
"You nearly drowning!" Choutarou yells. "What were you thinking?"
There's an awkward silence.
All Shishido can come up with is: 'umm' and 'I wasn't'. Or maybe: 'hey, I didn't have any time to use my brain, not when there's kittens to be saved!'.
Fuck this shit.
Worst part is that Choutarou doesn't need him to answer. Instead he sorta rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He looks about as impressed about the whole situation as the stupid cat was.
Shishido opens his mouth. Closes it. Finally he says. "I'm not sorry."
A sigh. Choutarou turns his back on him and disappears into the kitchen. "That's not the point, Ryou," he mumbles over his shoulder.
Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.
Stupid boyfriend.
The kitten struts up to him, cranes her head back and yowls like a miniature siren.
"Now look at what you've done," he accuses her.
She pees on the floor.
*
Choutarou can't stay angry and stew for long. Especially not when Shishido crawls naked into bed with him. For about half a minute he lasts -all cold shoulder and rigid pose, before turning over and burying his face against Shishido's chest.
"You're so stupid," he mumbles, voice small.
Shishido purses his lips, stung. But alright, fine, maybe if the positions had been reversed he can see where Choutarou is coming from, sorta (and hey, see, he can be perfectly rational. Sometimes). Though somehow he seems to just know that Choutarou would've handled it better, faster, whatever, so that the rest of the litter would've lived. But, fuck, alright. If it had been Choutarou to have jumped into the canal this morning, jeopardizing himself so blatantly in the process, Shishido woulda cheerfully killed him after.
So, in the end, all he says is: "Okay."
"Just be more careful," Choutarou adds. "Please."
Nodding, he holds Choutarou a little closer and kisses the crown of his head.
"Okay."
*
"I am kind of proud of you, you know," Choutarou deigns to inform him next morning.
Shishido is attempting to feed the kitten. The little bitch fucking refuses everything he offers her, turning up her squashed pink nose at every turn. When Choutarou holds out his hands, Shishido all but dumps the stupid cat right away. She starts to purr. Shishido grinds his teeth.
Choutarou is all smiles when he adds. "My kitten-saving boyfriend."
"Shut up," Shishido grumbles.
"Maybe you need an alias," he ponders. "Instead of Batman you could be Catman."
"That's stupid," Shishido says, loudly. "You're being stupid. You're both being stupid. You and the stupid cat."
"Hmm… maybe Kittenman would fit better, ne? Saving the world one kitten a day! We should get you a cat suit."
There's a pause. Shishido cringes.
Choutarou seems to drift away from the furry and cute type of cat suit to- "Like Catwoman," he breathes, eyes glazing over.
"You know what? Fuck you, I'm outta here-"
Shishido has no idea where the cat flew off to, but between one space of breath and the next Choutarou has grabbed him and pulling him down on the couch. Maybe they're sitting on the stupid animal. With that damn attitude of hers, Shishido isn't sure he cares.
For a moment Choutarou just sits like that with him in his lap, face propped on Shishido's shoulder. His cheek is soft against his. Choutarou tilts his head a bit and lets out a slow exhale. "Can… can we keep her?"
Fuck no. Shishido thinks. And: I want a dog! plus also She's a bitch! An ugly bitch!
Most of all it is: but what about a dog?
If they keep the stupid (and ugly!) cat -the stupid and ugly cat that doesn't even like him- Shishido knows there won't be a dog. Not any time soon. He could pull out the 'but you said we'd get a dog!' and probably win. And didn't Kaidoh say he'd take her? Works out perfectly.
Instead he looks at Choutarou's hands linked together over his stomach and then at the cat sitting on what was supposed to be Shishido's clean sweater for the day. Her beady eyes glare at him out of her squashed face. Her little body was so tiny where he held her against his chest all the way home. Wet and frightened and pressing as close as she could for warmth and protection.
Closing his eyes he sighs and says. "Fine."
Under him, Choutarou twitches. His face lifts away to look better at him, a slow, incredulous smile playing over his mouth.
Shishido struggles out of his arms and stands up. "Okay, if you want to keep the damn animal, then fine, but I get to give it a name."
"I-"
He lifts an eyebrow.
Choutarou wilts a little. "Alright."
Rubbing his chin, Shishido walks over to where the little snob is licking a paw, scrawny butt parked on his favorite hoodie. He looms over her. Her flat face turns up towards his, displeased.
"And I think," he says, starting to grin, "I got the perfect name."
-fin-