Work Text:
Syo knew he was dreaming.
He knew he was dreaming the moment he saw himself in the halls of his old orphanage. He knew he was dreaming when he felt his heart pounding harshly against his ribcage. He knew he was dreaming, even when his stuttered breaths sounded too realistic, when his bare feet carried him down the cold hallway, and when his vision narrowed to locate his secret hiding place.
This wasn't common, but he was unfortunately familiar with this routine. After a stressful day when he was physically and mentally drained, he would dream of the place he involuntarily had to call home. Sometimes, he'd dream he was sitting at the colorful tables in the playroom, staring wistfully at the running children. Other times, he'd find himself on his old hospital bed, fiddling with the white sheets and running his fingers through the side railings as he anxiously waited for the results of his latest examination. During harsh nights, he could even feel the cold press of the nurses' hands as he was forcefully held down to the bed because he kept twisting his body to avoid the IV needle…
Anyway, it didn't matter. Syo knew he was dreaming. So no matter how scared he felt, he knew he'd be fine. Heck, this particular dream—running down the brightly lit hallway to hide from the nurses—wasn't even that bad of a memory. He'd be fine. When he woke up, he wouldn't even flinch. This had happened before, after all. Not too often to freak him out, but enough for him to know what to do.
But when arms snaked tightly around his middle, he wasn't so sure anymore.
They got me, Syo thought immediately. They've never caught me before. I've gotten weaker.
The arms tightened around his torso. They're gonna drag me back. They need to finish their round of inspections, and I'm the last one.
Still, he lunged forward, feet skidding against the cold tiles. But I don't want to! He screamed in his head, mouth forming an O as he choked, Get off me, let me go, I don't want your medicine, I don't want your needles, I don't want—
"Hey."
Syo stared desperately at the door to his hiding spot, just a few more steps in front of him. If he extended his hand far enough, he could push it open, and he'd be safe…
"Oi, easy there."
I'm so close. Syo gritted his teeth. He swung his arms in vain. Darn it, this nurse was strong. But he was so close to freedom, so close to safety, so how could he give up now?
"Chibi, stop kicking."
Giving up meant returning to his hospital room. It meant being back on that bed, with needles pricking at his skin. It meant the bubbling anxiety that came with the nurses' intense scrutiny. It meant dealing with temporary relief after he was declared "doing well," which would later turn to uncertainty as he dreaded the next examination. Just this constant cycle, again and again, for as long as he would live, and according to the doctors, he wouldn't live for long—
"Syo!"
Syo's eyes snapped open. He inhaled sharply, as if he'd been underwater for hours and this was his first exposure to fresh air.
His eyes frantically darted around. This was not the hospital halls.
The mattress was soft—too soft to be his hospital bed. There were no side railings—his arm hung limply off the bed.
Someone was holding him, his back against the person's torso. Probably to prevent him from falling off the bed, like the state of his half of the blanket.
Syo regulated his breaths. Behind him, the person's slow and heavy breathing tickled the back of his neck. Even when his limbs had stopped flailing, the arms remained strongly around his middle. A bit too tight, a bit too rough. Like he was still in that hospital hall, being dragged back for examination…
"Satsuki," Syo rasped out. Damn it, he thought he'd regained his voice, but it came out breathy and cracked.
There was no reply. The heavy breathing grew stronger.
Syo pressed his eyes shut. "Let… let go of me first."
Immediately the hold loosened, and the mattress dipped. Satsuki inched back without a word.
When he was no longer touching Syo, Syo felt cold all over. He wanted Satsuki's warmth back, but that hold, those arms around his torso, it felt too much like… Syo shrank into himself, breathing through his teeth.
He only dared to speak again once his skin no longer tingled. "Sorry."
Sorry. For waking you up. For sounding as if I'm pushing you away. For making it seem like I don't want your help. Sorry, I'm being such a burden.
Satsuki still didn't say anything. Syo started feeling weird. "Are you listening?"
Satsuki clicked his tongue. "I know you're looking for Natsuki."
Syo shifted uncomfortably. A part of him did wonder why Satsuki woke up, but he couldn't exactly ask where Natsuki was, could he? "It's not like it mattered one way or the other…" he mumbled.
Satsuki cut him off. "Except it does. Natsuki's better at dealing with stuff like this."
The insecurity was clear in his voice, despite trying to sound flat and detached. It was true that Natsuki was good at dealing with the rare occasions Syo had a nightmare. He'd hold him until he calmed down. He'd hum songs as he caressed Syo's hair. No judgment, no questioning what the dream was about, no pleading for Syo to talk.
But it wasn't true that Natsuki was better. Because Satsuki had never actually seen Syo's nightmare tantrum before tonight. But he must've caught glimpses, which was why he tried to hold Syo tightly, the way Natsuki liked to do.
Guilt crept up Syo's chest. What should he even say?
Before he could think of anything, Satsuki moved. His long arm reached across the bed, going for Syo's mug on the bedside table. With his back still to Satsuki, Syo could only watch Satsuki's hand bring the glass level to his face. Then, Satsuki nudged his cheek with the glass and grunted.
Syo cracked his first smile since the dream forced him awake. He raised his head slightly and took a sip of water. "Thanks," he muttered as he lay on his side.
The mattress dipped, signaling that Satsuki, too, had gone back to lying on the bed. He was still at a respectable distance from Syo, though, which kind of bothered Syo a bit.
It took a few seconds before Satsuki broke the silence. "So, what do you want?"
Syo sighed. In Satsuki's dictionary, this was the closest he'd get to asking, "How can I help?"
To be honest, Syo wasn't sure. Satsuki was stern and reserved. He was usually the one poking and prodding at Satsuki's walls until his feelings were laid bare. Now that the position was flipped, Syo didn't know what to do. He doubted Satsuki knew, too.
But he knew what he did want. It was too embarrassing to say it, so he soundlessly grabbed Satsuki's free arm and draped it around his waist.
"Oi." Satsuki's voice was torn between confusion and surprise. But Syo only reached a hand back, feeling around for Satsuki's other arm.
By this point, Satsuki caught on. With a sigh, he adjusted his hold on Syo. One arm supported his neck, while the other hugged his waist. Not as tightly as earlier, which Syo was thankful for.
They stayed like that for a few awkward beats. Syo played with Satsuki's hand, running a finger through the soft palm and thicker finger pads that he'd become so used to. Slowly but surely, his heartbeat eased its erratic rhythm.
"What's next?" Satsuki mumbled from somewhere above him.
Syo swallowed, throat suddenly feeling dry. "You ever been to a hospital, Satsuki?"
"Ha?"
"Just… entertain me for a bit." Syo wasn't sure where he was going with this. One of them had to fill the silence, and Satsuki clearly wasn't going to do it. "Have you ever been to a hospital? And I don't mean sending people there. As a patient."
Satsuki clicked his tongue. "Well, no."
"Good." Syo exhaled slowly. "It's really… not pretty."
Satsuki didn't miss a beat. "If the other kids bullied you, you should've just hit back."
"The kids weren't the problem… It's the grown-ups."
When Satsuki was silent for too long, Syo gulped. Right, Satsuki also had bad experiences with adults. Stupid. Why did he say that?
"What about them?"
Syo stared into the dark in astonishment. "You wanna hear about it?"
"Why else are you talking about this?"
"Why—well…"
Syo thought about it. Why was he talking about this to Satsuki, of all people?
"Natsuki doesn't know about this."
Syo's shoulders slumped. "He doesn't know a lot," he corrected. Whenever he woke up from a nightmare, he would give little explanation. Natsuki never pushed. He never asked for more information than he was given.
"Why not?" Satsuki's voice carried a bit of edge. "Still afraid you'll hurt him? When you're the one who's always saying—"
"That's not… that's not it," Syo interrupted with a sigh. "Natsuki's just…"
"Just?"
Syo pressed his lips. Natsuki was just… too kind. Too gentle. Too talented, smart, and brilliant, a man with infinite possibilities ahead of him. Syo had never managed to defeat him in competitions, then or now.
Yet he fell in love with Syo.
So how could Syo not be grateful? How could he not be proud? How could he ever show his weaknesses in front of that perfect man, whom he struggled to catch up to and keep up with for years? How could he not be perfect, too?
"He's too good. It'd be pathetic." Syo's voice was so small, he wasn't sure Satsuki heard it.
But Satsuki did. "You're pretty pathetic now, I'd say."
Syo snorted. Despite the harsh words, Satsuki's hold tightened around him. As if he was trying to comfort him. As if he was denying what he said. Well, Syo could and would let himself believe that was the intention. Most of the time, he ended up being right.
"See, that's exactly it!" Syo flailed his arms in desperation. Or at least tried to, with Satsuki's large frame enveloping him. "I… With you, I don't mind it that much."
Satsuki grunted in confusion. Syo took it as his cue to go on. "Because… well, you're not perfect, and you never try to be. You're the opposite, in fact. You say anything you want, the good and bad. You let people know how you feel. I know some of it's for self-protection…"
"It's to protect Natsuki," Satsuki growled.
"Right, right." Syo wasn't in the mood to argue. "The point is… I respect that. Admire it, even. You let me see all of you, and I… I owe you that much, too."
"You owe Natsuki that, too."
Syo wished Satsuki would stop making everything about Natsuki and focus on himself for once, but that was a slow and difficult process. "I do," he admitted. "But until then… I'm telling this to you."
Satsuki said nothing. Syo didn't need him to. After many years, he'd memorized Satsuki's silent signals. "I dreamed I was in the hospital."
Satsuki scoffed. "I figured."
Syo ignored it. "I was running away from the nurse. It was close to my physical examination time, and they liked doing it in the middle of the night."
"I'd be pissed."
"Right?" Syo laughed. "But I was a kid. And the nurses could be pretty scary, at least when I was little."
"You're not that much bigger now, Chibi."
"Oi."
They were silent for a few moments. Syo's heart had returned to its normal state.
"Well?" said Satsuki next to his ear.
"Well, what?"
"What did the nurses do to make you wet your pants?"
Syo clicked his tongue, though he cracked a smile at that. "First of all, I didn't wet my pants. Second of all… well, the nurses would do tests on me." He shuddered, suddenly recalling the helpless, scared feeling of being a test subject under scrutiny.
"Take my blood samples." The cold prick of the needle. The pressure of metal penetrating skin.
"Check my vitals." The low beeping noises. The groups of letters that were abbreviations for something complicated. The feeling of not knowing anything about something that should be telling him exactly everything about his body.
"Add more drugs into my bloodstream." The bitter taste of medicine. The fluids flowing directly into his arteries. The side effects that came—sour mood, low appetite, exhaustion…
"Oi, Syo."
Syo blinked rapidly when he felt his hand being squeezed. His breathing had picked up again.
"Tch, you sound like you're about to pass out," Satsuki muttered behind him. There was more rustling of sheets, and the mattress dipped once more. A few seconds later, Syo's mug was refilled and handed back to him.
Syo knew he was being watched. As he drank, he avoided Satsuki's gaze.
"Anything else?" Satsuki asked once they'd both settled back into their positions.
It took a while before Syo was ready to speak again. "The nurses would sweet-talk me through it all, of course," Syo said bitterly. "'Everything will be alright,' they said. 'Don't be scared.'"
Satsuki spat, "As if," at the same time Syo said, "Yeah, right."
"But I had no choice but to obey," Syo continued with a heavy sigh. "Because deep down, I knew it was for my own good. I couldn't blame anyone but my own weak body."
Again, Satsuki said nothing. Syo was at least a bit happy when the hug around his waist tightened just a fraction.
It was always like this between them. At first, when Syo was still afraid of Satsuki, he wished Satsuki would resort to words instead of violently unleashing hell on earth. But slowly, he realized that the less Satsuki said, the stronger his feelings about something were. So Syo learned to decipher the unspoken tells—the flutter of his lashes, the dip of his voice, the twitch of his fingers…
Still, he had to check something. Syo promptly turned around and got his first good look at Satsuki's face.
His brows were forever creased. His lips were pressed thin. From the hard set of his jaw, he was probably grinding his teeth.
"Satsuki," Syo said, alarmed. "Are you mad?"
Satsuki clicked his tongue and averted his gaze. "No."
"Don't give me that." Syo cradled both sides of Satsuki's face. "You are mad. What's up?"
Satsuki stared at him incredulously. "Are you stupid?"
Well, that was uncalled for. "Jeez, sorry I'm not a mind reader." Though he was working on getting better at it, if only for Satsuki's sake.
Satsuki clicked his tongue. "Never mind." He pulled Syo close, letting him snuggle into his broad chest.
Syo blinked a few times before he allowed himself to rest against the body he knew so well. Satsuki placed one hand on his back, drumming his fingers to a rhythm only he could hear.
There was a long moment of silence. Syo thought Satsuki had fallen asleep, if not for his still-moving fingers. Suddenly, he said, "Those nurses don't know shit."
Syo smiled in amusement. "You can't just say that."
Satsuki ignored him. "Wish I could've hit them."
Only then did Syo get an inkling of the reason behind Satsuki's bad mood. He lifted his head to look at Satsuki's face. "Satsuki, are you mad… for me?"
Satsuki squinted at him. "Don't be so full of yourself."
A smile played on Syo's lips. "Well, are you?"
Satsuki clicked his tongue. "No. Go to sleep."
"Satsuki…"
"If you're tired tomorrow, Natsuki's gonna worry."
Then, Satsuki closed his eyes, determined to end the conversation.
Syo kept looking at his familiar features. He knew Satsuki knew he was being watched, but he continued staring, anyway. At that faint line between his eyebrows, at the long nose, at the pursed lips, and at the set of his jaw.
The weight in Syo's chest dissipated. "Thanks, Satsuki," he whispered.
"…I haven't done anything," said Satsuki, eyes still closed.
"You listened. That's all I need."
Satsuki cracked one eye open. "Then tell Natsuki next time."
Syo adjusted his sleeping position, suddenly feeling guilty. "…Mn."
"Now sleep. I'll hit you if you wake me up again."
Syo laughed. For his first time helping Syo through a nightmare, Satsuki did a really good job.
Syo knew he still owed Satsuki a lot more stories. Satsuki, for better or for worse, was always brutally honest. Meanwhile, there was Syo, who only showed others what he allowed them to see. It was unfair, even more so for Natsuki, who often had to deal with a silently crying Syo without knowing exactly why. He should tell Natsuki. He would, someday.
But until then… he hoped Satsuki would lend an ear. He didn't have to say anything. He could give all the petty responses in the world. Syo just needed to know he was there.
He might not be able to see the new moon. It might not be able to light his path. But it was still up there in the sky, giving Syo the silent reassurance that he would never soar alone.
With this thought lulling Syo to sleep, he drowsily planted a kiss on Satsuki's collarbone.
"Thanks, Satsuki."
"Hmph."