Steps Past The Point
TITLE: Steps Past The Point
PAIRING: vampire!Ryo/Koyama
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 3,088
SUMMARY: Follow-up to The Threshold of Saints. Ryo gets himself into a bit of trouble.
It's barely 2:30 in the afternoon when the earthquake strikes Tokyo. It's nothing major; not even a 6.0 on the Ritcher Scale. But, it sends everyone into a flurry of stress and panic and worry - Koyama is guilty of this too. He closes shop early to take a careful stock of the status of his stoves and fridge and cooking instruments.
Ryo isn't so lucky.
He isn't one of those settled vampires that has a giant house (that's been in the family "for generations") and brags about owning the surrounding neighborhood. He wasn't ever brought into one of those families; he just an unlucky change. Some vampire that was careless as he was feeding left Ryo on the edge of life and death, and Ryo was one of those special few that survives, and reawakens as a beast of the night.
He's always in constant flow, never staying in one place for more than a decade, or so. And even then, he moves around in the city, careful to never stick out too much and remain in someone's memory.
He never liked living on the top floor of the apartment building; always thought it got too much sun.
And the afternoon of the earthquake, when all his windows, normally covered with a thick layer of black felt and construction paper, shatter and part of the far wall cracks open, the sun streaming in like the most heinous of intruders, Ryo wakes from his slumber early, screaming with the pain of burning skin.
He falls off his bed, trembling and trying not to watch the way his skin blackens the longer it stays in the light. He crawls to the closet, throwing a few things out into the bedroom before he closes himself up in it, the door firmly shut. There's a thin stream of light that strikes across the floor of the closet and Ryo curls up against the far wall. His skin still burns, like he's out in the sunlight, and prays that night falls soon.
Everything in the ramen shop is accounted for and safe, so Koyama head upstairs, stepping carefully on the old stairs in the dark, since the light that normally shined brightly above them broke in the quake.
He's not even half way through checking everything in the apartment when he starts hearing weird noises. Shouts and yells and someone knocking loudly (though, it sounds less like knocking and more like someone ramming their body into a door). But, it sounds a few houses down, so he doesn't think anything of it, and keeps checking over his things.
Until, in a lull in the banging and his own mumbling about the electric griddle, he faintly hears his name being called. He stops for a second, listening closely, and when he hears his name again, Koyama stands and opens his window, looking up and down the street. But, there's nothing, and he's about to go back to his work, when he notices something curled up right below his window, at the door of the ramen shop.
He goes downstairs, unlocks and opens the door, and yelps in surprise when a body falls in. Koyama flails, looking around awkwardly and bites his nails.
"Koyama," the lump says, and now that he's closer, the voice is familiar.
"Ryo-kun?"
"Help me," he mumbles, sounding weak and, surprisingly, frightened.
So, Koyama pulls him in further and closes the door.
"What's wrong? Why are you wrapped in a blanket?"
He doesn't answer, just sticks a hand out from under his cotton shell, and Koyama's breath hitches in his throat. It's black, like charcoal, bits of what he knows is skin flaking off, and Koyama thinks that if he touches it, it'll fall to pieces.
"Help me," Ryo says again.
Gently, with much care and slow movements, Koyama picks him up and carries him up the stairs to his apartment.
Ryo won't unwrap himself from the blanket, and won't show Koyama any more of his skin.
"What happened?" Koyama asks again.
"The sun. I got burned," he answers, quietly again.
Koyama blinks. "And you came here?"
Ryo nods.
"Why?"
There's a long pause before he says, "Where else was I supposed to go?"
".... Do you need something?"
Ryo doesn't answer, but Koyama doesn't really need him to.
"You need to feed. Don't you?"
Koyama can hear Ryo's voice hitch, like he's embarrassed and feeling self-conscious.
"I don't want you to see me," he whispers, and curls the blanket around himself tighter.
"If you don't... will you be okay?"
"I don't know," he whines. "I'm all alone."
He sounds so pitiful and scared, so much so that it makes Koyama's heart ache. Koyama pulls his knees up and shoves his face into them, blocking everything from his sight, and and holds out his left wrist. He hears Ryo's blanket shuffle a bit, and he figures Ryo can guess what he's up to.
"I won't look," Koyama promises.
For a moment, he thinks maybe Ryo is refusing; he's not moving at all. Until there's a ghost of a touch on his wrist, and when Koyama doesn't flinch away, he can hear Ryo scoot closer. He wraps a hand around Koyama's wrist, and he has to fight back a gasp; Ryo's fingers are like a bracelet of sandpaper against his skin, rough and gritty. Ryo's breath puffs against his skin, and it's almost like he's apprehensive.
When Ryo puts his lips to Koyama's skin, sucking at his wrist to draw the blood closer to the surface, it's the same feeling. None of Ryo's normal soft skin and lightly chapped lips. Just more sandpaper skin and pumice lips that scrape.
It always hurts when Ryo bites through his skin, but in this moment, as Koyama keeps his face pressed firmly against his knees, and he can just barely feel Ryo trembling, he thinks Ryo is the one more in pain.
Ryo keeps himself tightly wrapped in the blanket for three days, hiding out in Koyama's closet during the day. He doesn't say much of anything in that period, and Koyama figures he needs his rest. So, Koyama keeps himself busy in the ramen shop to keep from worrying to much about Ryo's condition. He wonders if maybe he needs to feed again, and just the thought makes Koyama grasp his left wrist and wonder if his body could even take it after such a short interval.
That day, he opens the closet door after the sun has fully set.
"Are you alright, or not?" Koyama asks, his tone tenser than normal.
Ryo fidgets.
"Are you any better? Are you getting better?"
"It's too dangerous for me to feed from you again," Ryo whispers.
"That isn't what I asked." Koyama sits on the floor.
"A little," Ryo finally says.
"Is your skin still black?"
Ryo flinches, like the words themselves hurt. "... I'm too scared to look."
Koyama tugs at the blanket. "It's okay. Let me see."
Ryo doesn't move.
"It's okay," Koyama says again, his voice soft.
It doesn't look like Ryo is moving, and Koyama is about to give up, when he sees a few fingers poke out from under the blanket, slowly followed by the whole hand. It's not as black as before; the back, palm and a few fingers are almost a normal color, even though they still feel rough. Parts of his fingers are still black like the other day, completely unchanged. Koyama takes his hand gently, moving slowly so he doesn't startle Ryo, and turns it over in his hands.
"Does it hurt?"
"A lot," Ryo chokes out.
"All the time, or just when something touches it?"
"All the time."
Koyama lets go of his hand and stands. He moves to the sink, wets a hand towel with cold water, returns, and wraps it around Ryo's hand.
"My mom would always do this for me when I'd burn myself," Koyama explains. "Does it help at all?"
"... Yeah. Thank you."
"You don't need to hide in here, you know." Koyama lets go of his hand, and Ryo pulls it back under the blanket. "You can come out. I won't be frightened."
"Maybe tomorrow," Ryo whispers, settling back against the wall of the closet.
Koyama doesn't press him any further, and closes the sliding door of the closet.
In the morning, Ryo is still in the closet. And is still there when Koyama leaves to open the ramen shop, and when he comes back up from the shop. And after he gets out of the shower, and after he eats dinner. He curls up in his futon, nodding off to sleep with Ryo still in the closet.
Sometime in the night, he wakes up to bumping around in his apartment, and when he looks, there's light shining out from under the door of his bathroom.
He gets up, and knocks on the door. "Ryo-kun?"
Something falls off the counter and he hears Ryo swear.
"Are your burns looking any better?"
"... My hands look the same as they did yesterday."
"And?" Koyama prods.
Ryo is silent, and Koyama tries the door knob; it's locked.
"Let me in."
"No."
"It's my apartment, now fucking let-"
"My face is burned."
"Let. Me. In," Koyama growls, and even Ryo can hear the threat in his tone.
The lock clicks open and Koyama throws the door open. Ryo's back is to him, and the mirror is set up such that the reflection is no help. There are still black burn marks all up his arms and the back of his neck, and even his hair looks singed. Koyama grabs his shoulder and pulls him around, slowly, and Ryo doesn't fight the movement. His eyes are trained squarely on the floor, like he's embarrassed of himself. Koyama rubs his back consolingly as he takes in the black burn and scorch marks up Ryo's neck and jaw, and across his right cheek and eye, and a bit of his forehead.
Koyama doesn't say anything, just move his hands down to check over Ryo's hands; the one he saw yesterday still does look the same.
"You're in a lot of pain."
Ryo nods and tries to pull his hands away, but Koyama won't let him.
"And you're not getting any better."
Ryo flinches.
"You need to feed," Koyama says, quietly, and with a certain force behind it.
"It's too soon. Your body hasn't recovered."
"There are other places to-"
"I'm too weak to break into the blood bank," Ryo mumbles, and tries again to pull away from Koyama, but it fails.
"What about raw steaks, or something?"
Ryo makes a gagging sounds. "Livestock blood makes me throw up."
Koyama frowns. "Then you don't have much choice, do you?"
"I won't."
"Fine." Koyama's brows furrow and he lets go of Ryo's hands. He maneuvers Ryo away from he sink, and turns the hot water faucet all the way on and sticks both his hands under the water, wincing at the heat.
"What are you doing?"
"Keeping you from killing yourself."
It's like a lightbulb goes off in Ryo's head, and he lunges to turn off the water. But, Koyama's bigger than him, and it's not hard to keep his body between Ryo and the sink.
"Please, don't," Ryo pleads. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I'll be fine."
"You don't know that!" Ryo snaps, and reaches desperately again for the sink handle.
Koyama does it for him, cutting off the water himself and turning around, his wrists held up barely a foot from Ryo's mouth.
Ryo eyes grow wide and be bites his bottom lip, takes a step back and grasps tightly onto the door frame. "Stop it," he whines, eyes trained right on Koyama's wrists.
But, Koyama advances right after him, his blood thrumming directly under the surface of his skin from the heat of the water. "Just take a little," Koyama whispers. "Both of us will feel better if you do."
Ryo's salivating, and he can't do anything to stop it. His body and part of his mind are demanding he drink, that the only way to stop the constant ache and burn of his wounds is to drink; and, Koyama's asking him to do it, so what's the harm? But, there's just a sliver of rationality screaming at him not to. The wounds will heal in time on their own, and while he can stand the pain, there's the very real possibility that Koyama won't be able to take the blood loss.
The rational voice is sinking though, lost in the louder and louder screaming of his body, and with Koyama right next to him, his wrists held up at the level of Ryo's collarbone, the glorious, delicious scent of his blood wafting up, Ryo loses all sense of himself.
He can't even remember doing it; striking out like a snake with his mouth, biting deep and sudden into one of Koyama's wrists. He lets go of the door frame and latches onto Koyama instead, both of them trembling, though for very different reasons. He can't think anymore, just wants to feed and feed and feed, until he's gorged himself, will sleep for days and wake up completely healed.
The sudden, sharp pain of fingernails digging into the burn marks on his face brings him back to reality, reeling away from Koyama and howling in pain. And once the pain subsides to its normal ache, he's enraged, turning back around, bloody canines barred, practically growling.
Until he sees Koyama laying slumped on the floor, taking short gasping breaths, holding a towel against his wrist and looking barely conscious.
The rational part of his mind comes back, and Ryo feels nothing but unbridled guilt.
"I'm sorry," he cries, and falls to the floor next to Koyama, pressing his face into the man's stomach. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
"Stop," Koyama says, weakly, but he doesn't; just keeps apologizing over and over into the cotton of Koyama's t-shirt.
Koyama works to stay conscious, knowing that if he passes out, Ryo will freak, and who knows what he'd do in his obviously unstable condition. He recites multiplication tables, recipes and old poetry in his head. He pulls the towel away after a few minutes, the only sign that he'd been bitten at all is the blood smeared around his wrist and palm.
"Ryo-kun," Koyama mutters, poking him. "Get me some water?"
He stands on surprisingly shaky feet and goes to the kitchen. As he's filling up the cup under the kitchen sink faucet, Ryo can already see the burns on his hands healing, the black scorch marks visibly receding. He takes it back to Koyama, who has some how found the strength to push himself up into a sitting position against the wall.
Ryo sits next to him, handing over the water. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Koyama says between short sips. "I'm the one that shoved my wrist in your face."
Ryo looks down at his hands, the burns now just minimal spots. He touches his face, the burns on his forehead and cheek far less tender than they had been just minutes earlier.
"Thank you," Ryo says, voice tight.
"Just be more careful about the sun," Koyama mumbles. He drops the cup on the floor, and his head to Ryo's shoulder. "'M gonna sleep now."
Koyama wakes up in bed, a little tray of water, cookies and sliced fruit next to him. The closet door is firmly shut, but that's no surprise; sunlight is streaming in through his windows. He tries to sit up, but his body feels weak and lethargic, and his limbs won't listen to him and move the way he wants them to. He settles for laying back down and reaching for the bowl of fruit, eating it all. Then, he falls asleep again.
Sometime in the afternoon, when the natural light in his apartment is minimal, he hears a few clacking noises and wakes up again. Groggily, he peers around, and notices the closet door open a crack, and Ryo looking out, over at him.
Koyama waves to him, but it turns out more like a hand flail. "I'm fine," he says.
Ryo looks over towards the window, and then back to Koyama.
When he wakes up later in the evening, the only light on in his apartment is the one above the entry way, its light barely reaching into his little living-slash-bedroom. And lying next to him on the floor, is Ryo.
"How are your burns?" Koyama asks him, and Ryo's body jolts in surprise, like he hadn't realized Koyama was awake.
"... They're all better," Ryo replies, sounding guilty.
Koyama smiles. "I'm glad."
Ryo waits on him hand-and-foot (during the night anyways) for three days, until Koyama has recovered enough to manage well-enough on his own.
And then, he disappears again.
Koyama tries not to worry.
He shows up about a month later, lounging in Koyama's living room when Koyama gets back home late from getting drinks with a friend.
"Where did you go?" Koyama mumbles, lying on the floor next to him.
"To find a new place. It's in a basement, much less sun than my old apartment."
Koyama pulls his pillow to his chest. "I didn't mind you staying here."
Ryo stiffens, like the words set him on edge. "I'm getting too attached to you."
"... That's bad?"
"Yes," Ryo says, his tone harsher than he probably means for it to be. "Because unless I do something stupid, I'll live forever, and you're like a blink of an eye to me. I'm getting too attached and it's going to hurt in 60 years."
Koyama bolts up into a sitting position, reaching out and grabbing onto Ryo's arm. "You can't leave me."
"You can't enjoy this." Ryo tries to tug his arm out of Koyama's grasp. "You can't enjoy being my meals, and I know you hate it when I bite you."
Koyama looks down, eyes sad. "I don't like that part." He bites his lip, and looks back up. "But I like you enough to deal with it. And if my life is such a span of nothing to you, don't you think we should enjoy it? It would be cruel for you to leave me now."
"You're so weird," Ryo sighs.
"Says the one who stalked me in my own ramen shop and faked losing his keys in the rain."
Ryo laughs, short and sharp, and doesn't fight it when Koyama lies down, pulling Ryo with him.
PAIRING: vampire!Ryo/Koyama
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 3,088
SUMMARY: Follow-up to The Threshold of Saints. Ryo gets himself into a bit of trouble.
It's barely 2:30 in the afternoon when the earthquake strikes Tokyo. It's nothing major; not even a 6.0 on the Ritcher Scale. But, it sends everyone into a flurry of stress and panic and worry - Koyama is guilty of this too. He closes shop early to take a careful stock of the status of his stoves and fridge and cooking instruments.
Ryo isn't so lucky.
He isn't one of those settled vampires that has a giant house (that's been in the family "for generations") and brags about owning the surrounding neighborhood. He wasn't ever brought into one of those families; he just an unlucky change. Some vampire that was careless as he was feeding left Ryo on the edge of life and death, and Ryo was one of those special few that survives, and reawakens as a beast of the night.
He's always in constant flow, never staying in one place for more than a decade, or so. And even then, he moves around in the city, careful to never stick out too much and remain in someone's memory.
He never liked living on the top floor of the apartment building; always thought it got too much sun.
And the afternoon of the earthquake, when all his windows, normally covered with a thick layer of black felt and construction paper, shatter and part of the far wall cracks open, the sun streaming in like the most heinous of intruders, Ryo wakes from his slumber early, screaming with the pain of burning skin.
He falls off his bed, trembling and trying not to watch the way his skin blackens the longer it stays in the light. He crawls to the closet, throwing a few things out into the bedroom before he closes himself up in it, the door firmly shut. There's a thin stream of light that strikes across the floor of the closet and Ryo curls up against the far wall. His skin still burns, like he's out in the sunlight, and prays that night falls soon.
Everything in the ramen shop is accounted for and safe, so Koyama head upstairs, stepping carefully on the old stairs in the dark, since the light that normally shined brightly above them broke in the quake.
He's not even half way through checking everything in the apartment when he starts hearing weird noises. Shouts and yells and someone knocking loudly (though, it sounds less like knocking and more like someone ramming their body into a door). But, it sounds a few houses down, so he doesn't think anything of it, and keeps checking over his things.
Until, in a lull in the banging and his own mumbling about the electric griddle, he faintly hears his name being called. He stops for a second, listening closely, and when he hears his name again, Koyama stands and opens his window, looking up and down the street. But, there's nothing, and he's about to go back to his work, when he notices something curled up right below his window, at the door of the ramen shop.
He goes downstairs, unlocks and opens the door, and yelps in surprise when a body falls in. Koyama flails, looking around awkwardly and bites his nails.
"Koyama," the lump says, and now that he's closer, the voice is familiar.
"Ryo-kun?"
"Help me," he mumbles, sounding weak and, surprisingly, frightened.
So, Koyama pulls him in further and closes the door.
"What's wrong? Why are you wrapped in a blanket?"
He doesn't answer, just sticks a hand out from under his cotton shell, and Koyama's breath hitches in his throat. It's black, like charcoal, bits of what he knows is skin flaking off, and Koyama thinks that if he touches it, it'll fall to pieces.
"Help me," Ryo says again.
Gently, with much care and slow movements, Koyama picks him up and carries him up the stairs to his apartment.
Ryo won't unwrap himself from the blanket, and won't show Koyama any more of his skin.
"What happened?" Koyama asks again.
"The sun. I got burned," he answers, quietly again.
Koyama blinks. "And you came here?"
Ryo nods.
"Why?"
There's a long pause before he says, "Where else was I supposed to go?"
".... Do you need something?"
Ryo doesn't answer, but Koyama doesn't really need him to.
"You need to feed. Don't you?"
Koyama can hear Ryo's voice hitch, like he's embarrassed and feeling self-conscious.
"I don't want you to see me," he whispers, and curls the blanket around himself tighter.
"If you don't... will you be okay?"
"I don't know," he whines. "I'm all alone."
He sounds so pitiful and scared, so much so that it makes Koyama's heart ache. Koyama pulls his knees up and shoves his face into them, blocking everything from his sight, and and holds out his left wrist. He hears Ryo's blanket shuffle a bit, and he figures Ryo can guess what he's up to.
"I won't look," Koyama promises.
For a moment, he thinks maybe Ryo is refusing; he's not moving at all. Until there's a ghost of a touch on his wrist, and when Koyama doesn't flinch away, he can hear Ryo scoot closer. He wraps a hand around Koyama's wrist, and he has to fight back a gasp; Ryo's fingers are like a bracelet of sandpaper against his skin, rough and gritty. Ryo's breath puffs against his skin, and it's almost like he's apprehensive.
When Ryo puts his lips to Koyama's skin, sucking at his wrist to draw the blood closer to the surface, it's the same feeling. None of Ryo's normal soft skin and lightly chapped lips. Just more sandpaper skin and pumice lips that scrape.
It always hurts when Ryo bites through his skin, but in this moment, as Koyama keeps his face pressed firmly against his knees, and he can just barely feel Ryo trembling, he thinks Ryo is the one more in pain.
Ryo keeps himself tightly wrapped in the blanket for three days, hiding out in Koyama's closet during the day. He doesn't say much of anything in that period, and Koyama figures he needs his rest. So, Koyama keeps himself busy in the ramen shop to keep from worrying to much about Ryo's condition. He wonders if maybe he needs to feed again, and just the thought makes Koyama grasp his left wrist and wonder if his body could even take it after such a short interval.
That day, he opens the closet door after the sun has fully set.
"Are you alright, or not?" Koyama asks, his tone tenser than normal.
Ryo fidgets.
"Are you any better? Are you getting better?"
"It's too dangerous for me to feed from you again," Ryo whispers.
"That isn't what I asked." Koyama sits on the floor.
"A little," Ryo finally says.
"Is your skin still black?"
Ryo flinches, like the words themselves hurt. "... I'm too scared to look."
Koyama tugs at the blanket. "It's okay. Let me see."
Ryo doesn't move.
"It's okay," Koyama says again, his voice soft.
It doesn't look like Ryo is moving, and Koyama is about to give up, when he sees a few fingers poke out from under the blanket, slowly followed by the whole hand. It's not as black as before; the back, palm and a few fingers are almost a normal color, even though they still feel rough. Parts of his fingers are still black like the other day, completely unchanged. Koyama takes his hand gently, moving slowly so he doesn't startle Ryo, and turns it over in his hands.
"Does it hurt?"
"A lot," Ryo chokes out.
"All the time, or just when something touches it?"
"All the time."
Koyama lets go of his hand and stands. He moves to the sink, wets a hand towel with cold water, returns, and wraps it around Ryo's hand.
"My mom would always do this for me when I'd burn myself," Koyama explains. "Does it help at all?"
"... Yeah. Thank you."
"You don't need to hide in here, you know." Koyama lets go of his hand, and Ryo pulls it back under the blanket. "You can come out. I won't be frightened."
"Maybe tomorrow," Ryo whispers, settling back against the wall of the closet.
Koyama doesn't press him any further, and closes the sliding door of the closet.
In the morning, Ryo is still in the closet. And is still there when Koyama leaves to open the ramen shop, and when he comes back up from the shop. And after he gets out of the shower, and after he eats dinner. He curls up in his futon, nodding off to sleep with Ryo still in the closet.
Sometime in the night, he wakes up to bumping around in his apartment, and when he looks, there's light shining out from under the door of his bathroom.
He gets up, and knocks on the door. "Ryo-kun?"
Something falls off the counter and he hears Ryo swear.
"Are your burns looking any better?"
"... My hands look the same as they did yesterday."
"And?" Koyama prods.
Ryo is silent, and Koyama tries the door knob; it's locked.
"Let me in."
"No."
"It's my apartment, now fucking let-"
"My face is burned."
"Let. Me. In," Koyama growls, and even Ryo can hear the threat in his tone.
The lock clicks open and Koyama throws the door open. Ryo's back is to him, and the mirror is set up such that the reflection is no help. There are still black burn marks all up his arms and the back of his neck, and even his hair looks singed. Koyama grabs his shoulder and pulls him around, slowly, and Ryo doesn't fight the movement. His eyes are trained squarely on the floor, like he's embarrassed of himself. Koyama rubs his back consolingly as he takes in the black burn and scorch marks up Ryo's neck and jaw, and across his right cheek and eye, and a bit of his forehead.
Koyama doesn't say anything, just move his hands down to check over Ryo's hands; the one he saw yesterday still does look the same.
"You're in a lot of pain."
Ryo nods and tries to pull his hands away, but Koyama won't let him.
"And you're not getting any better."
Ryo flinches.
"You need to feed," Koyama says, quietly, and with a certain force behind it.
"It's too soon. Your body hasn't recovered."
"There are other places to-"
"I'm too weak to break into the blood bank," Ryo mumbles, and tries again to pull away from Koyama, but it fails.
"What about raw steaks, or something?"
Ryo makes a gagging sounds. "Livestock blood makes me throw up."
Koyama frowns. "Then you don't have much choice, do you?"
"I won't."
"Fine." Koyama's brows furrow and he lets go of Ryo's hands. He maneuvers Ryo away from he sink, and turns the hot water faucet all the way on and sticks both his hands under the water, wincing at the heat.
"What are you doing?"
"Keeping you from killing yourself."
It's like a lightbulb goes off in Ryo's head, and he lunges to turn off the water. But, Koyama's bigger than him, and it's not hard to keep his body between Ryo and the sink.
"Please, don't," Ryo pleads. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I'll be fine."
"You don't know that!" Ryo snaps, and reaches desperately again for the sink handle.
Koyama does it for him, cutting off the water himself and turning around, his wrists held up barely a foot from Ryo's mouth.
Ryo eyes grow wide and be bites his bottom lip, takes a step back and grasps tightly onto the door frame. "Stop it," he whines, eyes trained right on Koyama's wrists.
But, Koyama advances right after him, his blood thrumming directly under the surface of his skin from the heat of the water. "Just take a little," Koyama whispers. "Both of us will feel better if you do."
Ryo's salivating, and he can't do anything to stop it. His body and part of his mind are demanding he drink, that the only way to stop the constant ache and burn of his wounds is to drink; and, Koyama's asking him to do it, so what's the harm? But, there's just a sliver of rationality screaming at him not to. The wounds will heal in time on their own, and while he can stand the pain, there's the very real possibility that Koyama won't be able to take the blood loss.
The rational voice is sinking though, lost in the louder and louder screaming of his body, and with Koyama right next to him, his wrists held up at the level of Ryo's collarbone, the glorious, delicious scent of his blood wafting up, Ryo loses all sense of himself.
He can't even remember doing it; striking out like a snake with his mouth, biting deep and sudden into one of Koyama's wrists. He lets go of the door frame and latches onto Koyama instead, both of them trembling, though for very different reasons. He can't think anymore, just wants to feed and feed and feed, until he's gorged himself, will sleep for days and wake up completely healed.
The sudden, sharp pain of fingernails digging into the burn marks on his face brings him back to reality, reeling away from Koyama and howling in pain. And once the pain subsides to its normal ache, he's enraged, turning back around, bloody canines barred, practically growling.
Until he sees Koyama laying slumped on the floor, taking short gasping breaths, holding a towel against his wrist and looking barely conscious.
The rational part of his mind comes back, and Ryo feels nothing but unbridled guilt.
"I'm sorry," he cries, and falls to the floor next to Koyama, pressing his face into the man's stomach. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
"Stop," Koyama says, weakly, but he doesn't; just keeps apologizing over and over into the cotton of Koyama's t-shirt.
Koyama works to stay conscious, knowing that if he passes out, Ryo will freak, and who knows what he'd do in his obviously unstable condition. He recites multiplication tables, recipes and old poetry in his head. He pulls the towel away after a few minutes, the only sign that he'd been bitten at all is the blood smeared around his wrist and palm.
"Ryo-kun," Koyama mutters, poking him. "Get me some water?"
He stands on surprisingly shaky feet and goes to the kitchen. As he's filling up the cup under the kitchen sink faucet, Ryo can already see the burns on his hands healing, the black scorch marks visibly receding. He takes it back to Koyama, who has some how found the strength to push himself up into a sitting position against the wall.
Ryo sits next to him, handing over the water. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Koyama says between short sips. "I'm the one that shoved my wrist in your face."
Ryo looks down at his hands, the burns now just minimal spots. He touches his face, the burns on his forehead and cheek far less tender than they had been just minutes earlier.
"Thank you," Ryo says, voice tight.
"Just be more careful about the sun," Koyama mumbles. He drops the cup on the floor, and his head to Ryo's shoulder. "'M gonna sleep now."
Koyama wakes up in bed, a little tray of water, cookies and sliced fruit next to him. The closet door is firmly shut, but that's no surprise; sunlight is streaming in through his windows. He tries to sit up, but his body feels weak and lethargic, and his limbs won't listen to him and move the way he wants them to. He settles for laying back down and reaching for the bowl of fruit, eating it all. Then, he falls asleep again.
Sometime in the afternoon, when the natural light in his apartment is minimal, he hears a few clacking noises and wakes up again. Groggily, he peers around, and notices the closet door open a crack, and Ryo looking out, over at him.
Koyama waves to him, but it turns out more like a hand flail. "I'm fine," he says.
Ryo looks over towards the window, and then back to Koyama.
When he wakes up later in the evening, the only light on in his apartment is the one above the entry way, its light barely reaching into his little living-slash-bedroom. And lying next to him on the floor, is Ryo.
"How are your burns?" Koyama asks him, and Ryo's body jolts in surprise, like he hadn't realized Koyama was awake.
"... They're all better," Ryo replies, sounding guilty.
Koyama smiles. "I'm glad."
Ryo waits on him hand-and-foot (during the night anyways) for three days, until Koyama has recovered enough to manage well-enough on his own.
And then, he disappears again.
Koyama tries not to worry.
He shows up about a month later, lounging in Koyama's living room when Koyama gets back home late from getting drinks with a friend.
"Where did you go?" Koyama mumbles, lying on the floor next to him.
"To find a new place. It's in a basement, much less sun than my old apartment."
Koyama pulls his pillow to his chest. "I didn't mind you staying here."
Ryo stiffens, like the words set him on edge. "I'm getting too attached to you."
"... That's bad?"
"Yes," Ryo says, his tone harsher than he probably means for it to be. "Because unless I do something stupid, I'll live forever, and you're like a blink of an eye to me. I'm getting too attached and it's going to hurt in 60 years."
Koyama bolts up into a sitting position, reaching out and grabbing onto Ryo's arm. "You can't leave me."
"You can't enjoy this." Ryo tries to tug his arm out of Koyama's grasp. "You can't enjoy being my meals, and I know you hate it when I bite you."
Koyama looks down, eyes sad. "I don't like that part." He bites his lip, and looks back up. "But I like you enough to deal with it. And if my life is such a span of nothing to you, don't you think we should enjoy it? It would be cruel for you to leave me now."
"You're so weird," Ryo sighs.
"Says the one who stalked me in my own ramen shop and faked losing his keys in the rain."
Ryo laughs, short and sharp, and doesn't fight it when Koyama lies down, pulling Ryo with him.