Work Text:
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Valentine's day and Murata Fuma don't belong in the same sentence. That is the consensus that Fuma's friends had arrived to, long before now. That didn't mean that Fuma is actively doing anything to change that status. He's actually content as he is.
What are you doing for Valentine's tomorrow, guys?
The question had been innocently posed by Yuma in their three-person group chat.
Yudai had immediately started gushing about his latest beau, a cute guy who danced well and had a sweet smile. The guy had nervously asked Yudai out two weeks ago, setting a lunchtime reservation before watching a dance exhibition followed by a nighttime walk. It's almost like he read a manual called 'how to woo Koga Yudai in one date' and immediately executed all the best tips.
Yuma was already booked and busy. He had lunch with some of his friends from university, and date plans with his boyfriend of a few years, Harua. Harua loves visiting trendy spots and knowing that, Yuma managed to get a booking at one of Tokyo's up and coming restaurants.
[ Chat: yumkeifum forever ]
nayumkita:
> wbu fumaaa sannn
> any plans?
kakkoi_king:
> Don't tell me you're doing nothing!
> How many years in a row has it been? Fuma???
Fuma sighs as he types out his reply.
fumaさん:
> it's been two years. you set me up for a blind date that one time, remember?
nayumkita:
> wb i intro u to one of harua's friends ?
> hungout w him warlier this week
> earlier*
> he's single sporty n super cute
fumaさん:
> no thanks
kakkoi_king:
> Don't tell me all you plan on doing is going to the gym tomorrow.
fumaさん:
> ....
> i'll go to the park instead
nayumkita:
> good lmao, maybe u'll meet sm1 therr
That had been the end of the conversation. It's not like Fuma feels sad, per se, about being...well, Valentine-less, for a lack of better term. He's logical enough to know Valentine's day is nothing less than a cashgrab. A big excuse for companies to charge exorbitant prices for dinner experiences, flowers, and chocolates all in the name of love.
That doesn't mean it can't be nice. Fuma liked receiving chocolates or letters the few times others had given them to him when he was in school. But he never pursued any relationship just because someone gave him chocolates.
He's also never going to look down on anyone for celebrating Valentine's day with their loved ones, platonically or romantically. Really, all he had a problem with was A) the capitalism and B) the societal pressure that you had to have someone as your Valentine, or else that counts as some sort of moral failing in life.
Fuma has never had a problem being alone after all, something that society was adamant on trying to change. His parents brought him into this world alone and he has never felt lonely not having siblings. He had a plethora of cousins, and had no problem making like-minded friends. Sure, he's had relationships but they weren't a prerequisite for his version of a successful adult life.
Fuma is content with being alone, because being alone never meant that he was lonely. He has his favorite idols to turn to and his favorite games. Oh, and Pokémon, of course. He had exercising and dancing and lazing around on his Switch after he got home from work.
That's just how he is, even after twenty seven years of living. He sure isn't about to start changing now. Or at least that's what he thought.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Valentine's day. Proclaimed as the most romantic day of the year and Fuma is at the park, overlooking the almost-afternoon sun as he goes through his stretching routine. Here he is, dressed down in sports attire— his favorite joggers and a breatheable yet fitting workout shirt— rather than a date-suitable outfit or a fancy suit.
The park is teeming with life. It's the weekend, and he already sees the couples taking advantage of Valentine's day falling on the weekend to have their romantic picnics and dates. The number of heart-shaped balloons he already passed by is almost concerning. The lawn looks like a checkerboard of pinks, reds, and whites, grass-green barely peeking out past the plethora of decorations. If Yuma was here, he would probably say that it looked like cupid threw up all over the lawn. In this case, Fuma would be inclined to agree.
There are, of course, people here doing other things too. The occasional person with their stroller, the parents with their kids heading to the playground. There's even a pretty intense-looking basketball game happening on the courts near where Fuma is stretching. And of course, there are other runners around. It makes Fuma feel better about everything.
After setting his bag on one of the benches nearby, Fuma starts his run. He tries to avoid the busier areas, instead winding through the quieter park paths. It's a nice and sunny day and Fuma forgets all about Valentine's day as he makes his second lap around the park. By the time he reaches his third, he finally feels the urge to take a break.
As he makes his way to the benches, he hears someone shouting from behind him, "Watch out!"
Fuma doesn't get to turn and look before something smashes into his head. Everything feels like it happens too quick. Fuma's ears ring, his foot snags and he careens forward, off-balance. There's not enough time, and he barely gets a hand out, a twinge of pain lancing up his arm before his head cracks hard against the asphalt.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Fuma isn't sure of what happens next.
One second he was standing, and the next something hit him and now...now he could barely open his eyes. Or were they ever open? Did he pass out?
He can't think. There's a splitting pain in his head, and his arm feels like it's melting off his bones and onto the cracked asphalt. Maybe he is on the ground. He tries harder to open his eyes, and finally the sky opens up in front of him.
The sky is blue and the sun shines down unapologetically above him. It makes him squint and wince at the intensity. That is, until a figure eclipses its brightness, covering Fuma in their merciful shade.
The first thing Fuma notices is the blond hair. Wisps of blond framing the person's face, falling over furrowed brow and sweeping down a slender neck. Their eyes catch his attention next, something magnetic in the way they pull Fuma in and bleeding with something that looks a lot like concern. The person's lips are trapped under his teeth, and Fuma watches as they part, like they're about to say something.
Oh shit, Fuma realizes, he must be dead. He must have hit his head too hard and reached some form of afterlife. There's no other logical explanation, because why else would he be seeing an angel standing over him right now?
The person tilts their head, "What?" Oh, so even his voice is pleasant, a deep timbre that sends something tingling down Fuma's spine. Or maybe that's the concussion talking. Fuma hadn't even realized he had talked.
"An angel," Fuma finds himself repeating, and the person's eyes widen in surprise before he points at himself. Fuma nods, or tries to before he winces.
"D-Don't move," The angel says, and Fuma...Fuma is starting to think that maybe he's real. There's no way angels can blush, right? And the pain in his head means that he's probably alive. So this must be an actual, living breathing person. Not some sort of mythical entity of the afterlife.
There's a hesitant hand on his shoulder and another face comes into view. This person is younger, jagged platinum blond hair sticking out everywhere as he peers down at Fuma, "Okay, so you didn't completely murder him."
"Maki," The angel-person hisses. "Shut up."
"Did...did he just call you an angel?" Another more timid voice calls out. A third person appears, dark hair over dark eye brows and a polite looking face.
"Not the time, Jojo," The blond finally turns back to him. "I'm...really sorry. I wasn't–" He stops himself like he's trying to figure out how to articulate what he needs to say. When he opens his mouth, it all falls out in a rush, "Okay, so I just accidentally hit you with a basketball, which caused you to fall. You hit your head on the bench kind of hard, so I don't think you should move."
There's a silence, and no one tries to speak as Fuma...processes. Oh. So that was what hit him. A basketball. Thrown by this angelic man who is currently crouched above him.
"Felt like a projectile," Fuma mumbles and the jagged-haired man bursts out laughing. The sound makes his ears ring, but at least someone is getting a kick out of this. He sees the blond reach out to smack the laughing guy's shin.
"I'm...really sorry, really really sorry," The angel-faced man bows his head, and to his credit, he really does look regretful. "That was supposed to hit Maki, not you."
"Hey!" The other man, Maki, says. "I dodged it with my awesome reflexes."
"Yeah, well, your awesome reflexes might be putting someone in the hospital," The blond says, before sitting cross legged on the ground. "My name is Nicholas. What's your name?" Nicholas. A foreign name. It suits him. He also has a bit of an accent to his Japanese, now that Fuma has the capacity to pay more attention. It's a bit clumsy but charming all the same.
"Fuma," He says before he can think better of it. Yudai would probably kick him and say something about strangers and serial killers, but Fuma is past caring. At this point he's almost sure that he truly meant no harm anyway. And if he is about to be murdered, then let it be a blond, angel-faced serial killer.
Maki squints at him, "How do we know he's telling the truth?" Fuma hears the smack sound clear as day and Maki whines as he rubs at his shin. "Jo-kun, back me up here!"
The other man, Jojo— or was that even his real name?— speaks up, "Maki could be right. Sometimes people forget things after a head injury..." Fuma wants to argue that he is who he is, but that would be pointless. He's too tired to argue anyway.
"Do you have your wallet with you?" Nicholas says before holding up his hand. "Ah, it's just to check your ID, I won't do anything else."
"It's inside the pouch in my bag." Fuma tries his best to see and follow his movements, but it's impossible because he's prone on the ground. The familiar Eevee pattern comes into view, and Nicholas fishes out his wallet.
Fuma recites his information: his name and age and birthday under Nicholas' watchful gaze. He nods, looking up at his friends, "Where's the ambulance?"
"Oh, it should be here in eight more minutes," Jo (or was it Jojo?) says.
Fuma hears a record scratch in his brain, "Ambulance?"
"Yes?" Nicholas tilts his head and Fuma's brain unhelpfully finds it cute. "We should get you checked out. You hit your head pretty hard."
"Mhm, it made a thunk noise earlier," Maki muses. Nicholas smacks him again.
"You should go finish the game with Matthew and the rest," Nicholas says, plopping unceremoniously onto the ground next to Fuma. "I'll stay here with Fuma-san until the ambulance arrives."
Fuma lets himself relax when Maki and Jo leave. There is something soft underneath him, he realizes and he lifts his good hand to get Nicholas' attention.
"What's this?" Fuma points toward whatever was pillowing his head.
"Oh. Oh yeah, that's my hoodie," Nicholas says before staring at the ground guiltily again. "I think your head is bleeding a little so my towel's under there too. It's clean I promise, but...I'm really sorry again."
Fuma wouldn't usually say this about another person, but he has a certain air of patheticness to him. Like a kitten who has been abandoned in the rain, all soaked fur and pleading eyes. He looks so torn up about it that Fuma can't help but soften.
"It's okay," Fuma gives him a proper smile. "Seriously, you didn't mean for any of this to happen so you shouldn't feel so bad about it."
Nicholas nods, tucking his knees under his chin and looking even smaller, "Okay. Thank you." The conversation peters out, but it isn't as awkward as Fuma thought it would be. He's glad he doesn't have to talk. Fuma busies himself with watching as Nicholas' hands worry at the silver chain around his neck. The repetitive motion is easy to focus on. The pain in his head subsides to a dull ache as time slips by.
It doesn't feel like long before the ambulance arrives with ceremony, siren announcing itself loud in the serene atmosphere of the park. Nicholas stands up, immediately rattling off what happened to the first paramedic who arrives.
The other paramedic checks on him. A couple of questions and a light being flashed into his eyes later, a brace is fastened around his neck. Standard procedure for a head injury, they explain. Throughout it all, Fuma holds on to what little he can see of Nicholas— to the small, blond strands of hair at the edge of his vision.
"You did good calling us over," The paramedic says as Fuma is hoisted onto the gurney. "Will you be riding with your boyfriend to the hospital?" Oh. Fuma almost wishes that he is passed out. Logically it's understandable why they are mistaken. They're both wearing sports wear and at the park on Valentine's day. It doesn't stop the embarrassment from singeing him inside out.
From this angle, he can see Nicholas' confusion before it parts for an apologetic smile, "Sorry, he isn't my boyfriend." Ah, Fuma thinks, he's going to have to go through this alone. It's a sobering thought and if it were any other situation then maybe it would've been fine, but...
"...but of course I'll go to the hospital with him," Fuma's eyes never snapped open so fast. Nicholas is looking down at him with a small smile. "It's the least I can do."
So Fuma gets wheeled over to the ambulance with Nicholas by his side. The ambulance feels claustraphobic, machines surrounding him and the beep-beep-beep of his own heart being displayed on the screen. Nicholas sits near his knee, and from where Fuma is he has the perfect view of him fiddling with the straps of Fuma's duffle. He can tell that Nicholas is pointedly trying not to stare at him or the wrap on his arm, probably out of politeness.
At least he isn't going alone.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
The hospital emergency room ebbs with an unresting energy, and Fuma is directed to a temporary bed as soon as he arrives. Nicholas sticks to the wall like he's afraid to take up space, even as the nurse hands him a clipboard for Fuma's information. Fuma's duffle is hugged to his chest as he fills it out, Eevee pouch in hand. One of the nurses triage him again and Nicholas is the one that bows when the nurses leave.
The doctor comes next, checking in on his arm, "I don't think anything is broken, but we'll do a quick x-ray. We also need you to do a head CT to rule out any head injuries. Is there anything else, Murata-san?"
"Uhm," Nicholas unsticks himself from the wall. "He was bleeding earlier. Somewhere on the back of his head."
The doctor nods, "Okay, I'll check that out right now." The doctor sits him up using and there are gloved hands prodding at his scalp. Fuma winces when she gets a little too close to the wound with the disinfectant.
"Nothing a bandage and a few stitches wouldn't fix," The doctor reassures after she smooths a temporary bandage on his head. "Nurses will take you to your scans, and I will be back with the results and to patch up your head. No food or drinks until after the CT scan. In the mean time, sit tight."
Nicholas finally delegates himself to the chair by Fuma's bedside when the doctor leaves, "Do you want to tell someone you're here?"
Fuma nods and Nicholas digs through his bag again. He manages to single-handedly unlock his phone, opening the group chat before handing it to Nicholas, "Could you type out what I need to say?"
Nicholas nods, before Fuma speaks, "Tell them I got into an accident at the park. I hit my head and I'm already at the hospital." Fuma watches as Nicholas concentrates on typing. His brows furrow a little and Fuma feels a bit bad for putting this pressure on him.
The reply arrives in record time.
"Uh, just got a reply from one of your friends," Nicholas says before reading out. "From nayum...kita? They said: oh my god, should I head over?"
"Tell him: it's fine, I'm already getting checked out." Fuma glances at Nicholas' concentrated face. He looks close to murdering Fuma's phone so he puts him out of his misery, "Also tell him I'll text more later."
After a few more minutes, Nicholas triumphantly turns the phone back to him, "Done." Fuma scrolls through the messages. He finds a few more messages from Yuma that Nicholas hadn't read out loud.
[ Chat: yumkeifum forever ]
nayumkita:
> ur not fuma. who are u
fumaさん:
> sorry, im typing for him bc he sprained his arm
> or wrist
nayumkita:
> ??? WHAT THW FUCK
fumaさん:
> im sorry :(
nayumkita:
> why r u sprry
fumaさん:
> im the guy that caused the accident...sorry again...
> i promise ill stay with fuma-san till all his checkups are over
nayumkita:
> ok...
fumaさん:
> he says he'll text more later
Yuma is still typing and Fuma watches as the new message comes in.
nayumkita:
> fuma, if you see this press 1 for help or press 2 if he's hot
> also send a pic if 2
Fuma gathers all his energy to stare at his phone in disappointment as he sends over a 3 and turns it off.
"Is that okay?" Nicholas asks, hand rubbing nervously over his nape. "I just didn't want your friend to think you got kidnapped or something."
"It's okay. And you don't have to keep apologizing." If he could move more, maybe he would've patted Nicholas' shoulder. Right now, his head hurts a little too much for him to move. Fuma doesn't get a chance to continue before a nurse arrives to take him for his x-ray.
Nicholas stands as the bed is pushed away from their corner, "Uh, do I...?"
"You can stay here," The nurse smiles kindly. "We'll take good care of Murata-san, I promise." Nicholas nods, glancing over at Fuma for...reassurance maybe? Uh-oh. Fuma's not good at reassurance. He holds up a thumbs up and smiles a little. Nicholas visibly relaxes at the sign. The last thing Fuma sees as he's being rolled away is Nicholas waving.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
The x-ray is relatively painless. Fuma has experience with x-rays from his youth— a fractured wrist from a bike ride gone awry— and that makes it easier. He has to stand to x-ray his hand and the nurses kindly help him. It doesn't take long. He is placed back on the bed and wheeled back to the room in no time.
Nicholas is speaking into Fuma's phone when he arrives, "Oh, he just came back from his x-ray. Hold on a sec–" Nicholas hands the phone to Fuma's good hand, "Here. It's your friend, Yudai-san. He called a few minutes ago."
The nurse talks to Nicholas as she locks the wheels of the bed, "The x-ray went fine. Someone will be here for the head CT soon." They both thank the nurses, and as soon as they're gone, Fuma presses the phone to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Fuma!" The volume is a bit loud and Fuma pulls the phone away from his ear. "Are you okay?"
Fuma sighs, "It's a sprain and a headache, nothing to worry about."
"Of course I have to worry," Yudai says, and from the sound of it, he's pacing. "How did this even happen?"
"Uh," He glances at Nicholas, who isn't doing a very good job at acting like he isn't listening. Fuma decides against saying anything, purely because he's sure Nicholas will get sad again. "I'll tell you later. But seriously, I'm fine."
"Okay..." The worry ebbs from his voice only to be replaced by a Yudai-typical slyness. "So? Nico-san?"
"Oh god," Fuma turns his face away from Nicholas. "Stop it. Whatever you're about to say, it's not that."
"I didn't say anything!" Yudai says, fake-offended. "He seems nice. Very sweet and polite. Plus, fate must've brought you two together with this accide—"
"Don't you have a date to get back to?" Fuma asks in the most bitingly polite tone he can manage.
Yudai laughs at him, "Hey, seriously, ask him out if he's single and you're curious. Love you, Fuma." With a last kiss into the receiver, Yudai hangs up. Fuma slowly flops back onto the bed, feeling like he aged ten years in that conversation alone.
"Yudai-san seems...really nice," Nicholas says, filling up the awkward silence.
"He is," Fuma's lips slide into an easy smile. "Him and the other person you were texting earlier are my closest friends."
Nicholas hums, "So...what were you doing at the park alone on Valentine's day?" Usually the question would feel aversive, but this time it's different. Nicholas isn't poking fun or judging. He seems genuinely curious.
Fuma settles on being honest, "I didn't have any Valentine's plans." Normally Fuma would've lied, said he had a date that night or plans after the park. It's an easy lie, but he feels like he shouldn't. "Yudai suggested the park instead of the gym."
"Sounds like he owes you for indirectly contributing to the accident," Nicholas jokes before pausing. "I'm glad that you didn't have plans today." Huh. Fuma's brows furrow. That's...
Nicholas looks mortified— as if he just realized what he said— before waving his hands, "Not in a mean way! Sorry! Just that...if you had plans and you had to cancel because of this accident..."
"I understand," Fuma hesitates before plucking up the courage to ask. "Am I...keeping you from your plans? You should go if I am, I'm fine alone." Fuma hopes not. He would feel bad for keeping Nicholas here and even worse if he was slightly romanticizing his interactions with a taken man.
"No no no," Nicholas waves his hands again. "I'm free today. Well, the plan was basketball, and the losing team has to treat the other team to an expensive lunch, but that can happen any day. I'll just ask them for a rematch."
Fuma asks another question to keep the conversation going, "Do you play basketball often?"
Nicholas seems to sit up straighter, "Yeah, I do. Do you play?" Fuma shakes his head but Nicholas doesn't seem deterred, "It's really fun. I've been hooked on playing at that park. There's always a lot of people playing on their own, so it's easy to get a game going."
"You play with...strangers?"
"Mhm," Nicholas grins. "I don't usually leave a good first impression because of my face, but I'm unexpectedly good at making friends."
Fuma tries to tilt his head before the brace stops him, "What do you mean by the first impression thing?"
"Well, I have kind of strong eyes, so if I'm not consciously watching it or smiling, I look rude, like this," Nicholas summons a blank look onto his face. His eyes immediately sharpen and with the straight line of his mouth, it makes him look...intimidatingly handsome. Coupled with the blond hair, he looks a little unreal. In a good way. Fuma is not about to say that out loud.
"That's why I have to watch my gaze a bit," Nicholas continues. He demonstrates, lifting his brows slightly and his eyes round out. His lips curve, and he looks...happier. Not anything less than beautiful though.
"I think you look fine either way," Fuma says before he can think the better of it. Nicholas looks a little surprised and Fuma rushes to continue, "You don't necessarily have to change yourself just for a first impression. My first impression of you was after I was knocked out and I know you're not rude. You're a kind person."
Nicholas turns the words in his mind for a few minutes. Fuma could see the gears turning before he looks up at Fuma through his lashes, "Thank you. That means...a lot."
Fuma tries to resist turning away because Nicholas is so pretty. He's been waxing soppy poetry about him in his brain this whole time, but he surely has to know how pretty he is. Yudai's voice loops through his brain, Ask him out if you're curious.
Fuma feels a bit like he's looking out over a cliff and into the dark, unknown waters below. He's never been afraid of thrills. Or of dying. But this somehow feels more terrifying than both. He musters the courage to jump, to maybe— emphasis on maybe— ask Nicholas out or ask something else. Or even to...compliment him.
Fuma takes a metaphorical couple of steps back, steeling himself and opening his mouth, "Nicholas-san?" Nicholas snaps back to attention as Fuma opens his mouth, legs bracing to jump.
Before he can push off, the curtain enclosing their space is pulled open, another nurse standing there, "Hello, Murata-san. I'm here to take you to the CT." He almost groans at the timing. Is this divine intervention from the universe? Or a punishment for hesitating so much?
Instead of acting out, he gives the nurse a vague answer, ignoring the burn of his ears after his failed attempt. He can feel Nicholas still staring at the side of his face.
Like an idiot, Fuma meets his gaze head on. Nicholas barely flinches, his lips tugging into a smile. And like an absolute dumbass, he holds up another thumbs up, similar to what he had done earlier. Thankfully Nicholas is nice and returns the gesture. Otherwise Fuma would've probably died of embarrassment on the way to the CT scan.
It would look insane on his future tombstone: death by embarrassing himself in front of the stranger he's interested in. In the middle of the hospital. Yuma would probably do a jig on his grave in his honor. And Nicholas...wouldn't have to know.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Fuma learns a lot about CT scans on the way to his scan. It's an interesting process, and he steps into a hospital gown before they start. He lies still on the bed as the machine whirrs to life. He thinks about CT scans and what the nurse said earlier about how they work. Anything to keep thoughts of Nicholas from cropping up. Would the technician be able to tell that he is trying to stop himself from thinking about Nicholas from just the scan if he knew where to look? That was a terrifying thought.
His singular focus gets him somewhere, the technician's voice ringing out in surprise, "Thank you, Murata-san. We will let you change and you'll be on your way back."
When Fuma gets back to the bed, the nurse smiles, "That was one of the quickest CT scans I've ever seen in my career here."
Fuma smiles, "I hope that's not a bad thing."
"It's sweet," The other nurse comments. "You're just trying to stop your boyfriend from worrying, right?"
"Ah, he's not my boyfriend," Fuma stops himself from adding 'yet' because that would mean overestimating his flirting abilities.
The nurse makes an understanding expression before smiling again, "Well...there's no better day than today to get to know people, right?" Fuma nods, untrusting of his own voice as they pull up to the room.
Once inside, Nicholas looks up at the sound of the creaky bed, instantly brightening, "How was the CT scan?"
"Good," Fuma replies as the nurses secure his bed.
"We'll remove your neck brace now," The nurse says, reaching for the stiff plastic. "The scan technician told us that everything looked clear on your scans." It feels weird to hold his head up without the support of plastic after over an hour. Fuma tilts his head a bit to stretch it and he can feel Nicholas watching him with a serious look.
"I'm okay," Fuma says to the nurses before glancing at Nicholas. "Everything feels fine." At least Nicholas looks a bit more calm by the time the nurses leave. Maybe Fuma is getting better at this reassurance thing.
As soon as the nurses are out of sight, Nicholas grabs something from the floor before scooting his chair closer to Fuma's bed, "Here." A plastic bed is carefully placed near his leg. It seems to be filled with snacks and drinks.
"I didn't know what kind of drinks or snacks you liked, so I got a whole bunch." Nicholas looks proud of himself. He glances at Fuma expectantly like he's a kid who got a perfect score on a test and wants compliments. It's endearing and a complete diversion from Nicholas earlier.
"Thank you but you didn't have to buy this much..." Fuma parses through the plastic bag with his good hand. There's oolong tea, cafe latte, a bottle of water, and a strawberry latte among the drinks and a plethora of sweet and savory snacks. Nicholas is still watching him, he realizes as he picks out a tea and a box of milk-flavored cookies.
"Ah, I should've trusted my instincts," Nicholas says running a hand through his hair. "The tea was my first choice for you."
The blond plucks the bottle from Fuma's hand, opening it without Fuma asking. Fuma feels a little ridiculous. He hasn't had to rely on someone like this since he was a kid. It feels weird to be so well taken care of by someone who is around two hours into knowing him. He's so used to being seen as capable that Nicholas' casual care is...unnerving. It's not bad, but it makes something warm stir in Fuma's chest.
To distract himself he sips the tea, "You should have something too."
Nicholas grabs the strawberry latte like there's no contest before catching Fuma's gaze. He blinks a little as he mumbles out, "I...I can't drink coffee, okay?"
"You can't drink it?"
The question is supposed to be innocent, but Nicholas flushes, the pink on his cheeks mirroring the latte, "It's too bitter. I don't like bitter." He frowns pointedly, "And don't you dare call me a kid."
"I wasn't about to," Fuma can't stop the smile from staying on his face. "Strawberry latte...it suits you."
He levels Fuma with a weak glare, "What's that supposed to mean?" Fuma shrugs one of his shoulders, wincing a little when something aches.
Nicholas' hand goes to his shoulder, "Maybe don't move it."
"Are you still that worried?" Fuma asks and Nicholas nods. "It's okay, it just aches because I was in the brace for so long."
Nicholas nods before sipping at the strawberry latte. He doesn't look entirely convinced. His hand moves for Fuma's bottle of tea and he looks up, silently asking. Fuma nods his consent and Nicholas recaps the tea without so much as a thought for Fuma's sanity. He opens the milk-flavored biscuits, popping one into his mouth before placing it within Fuma's reach.
"Do you like strawberries or just the lattes?" Fuma asks as he busies himself with studying the cookies. They're animal shaped, the name of each animal printed on each cookie in English. He bites the wing off the hawk cookie he was holding.
"I do," Nicholas answers easily. Fuma hears as he tears open a bag of chips. "I always get strawberry flavored stuff. What about you? Are you a big fan of sugary things?"
Fuma holds up another cookie— a raccoon— before he eats it, "I like sweet stuff that's a bit more subtle."
"Like these cookies?" Nicholas fishes around for a cookie as Fuma hums. "Oh! A guinea pig." He takes out his phone with a smile, "One of my friends kind of looks like one."
Fuma takes out another cookie, "Gorilla."
Nicholas stifles a laugh, "Wait, I've got to send that one to Maki." Fuma places the cookie in Nicholas' palm, his fingers brushing over his skin.
Nicholas is there, oblivious of Fuma's thoughts, smiling as he types into his phone. Like this, he looks like the cat that caught the cream. Fuma pokes around the bag of cookies. He keeps using cat-related metaphors but maybe it's because a cat suits Nicholas.
The cookie-RNG gods must be smiling down on him, because a cat cookie appears beneath his fingers. He holds the cookie up next to Nicholas. The cat cookie is sitting up, tail stuck swinging below it. Nicholas with his fluffy, blond hair slightly curled to frame him in a halo. Maybe if Fuma is delusional enough he could imagine a pair or fur-clad ears on his head.
"What are you doing?" Fuma blinks and Nicholas is glancing up at him. His hand wraps around Fuma's wrist and Fuma forgets that he's supposed to keep this a secret from him.
"Cat," Nicholas reads, English pronounciation perfectly clear. "Why are you holding it up?" He tilts his head and it reminds him of...it reminds him of a cat, okay? Fuma needs his brain shut off. Maybe now would be a good time to feign pain and ask for some morphine.
Fuma swallows, "I was trying to find one that looks like you."
"And you landed on a cat?" Nicholas honestly sounds so offended that Fuma can't help but wince. His grip tightens where it still holds onto Fuma's wrist and maybe Fuma needs to dig himself a grave.
"Yes?" Fuma's voice cracks embarrassingly, and Nicholas...well, there's no other way to put it other than he pouts. He's kind of glaring at Fuma too but it's more sulky than anything.
"Everyone always says I look like a cat," Nicholas mumbles and shit. He even sounds sulky. "Can't I be something cooler? Cats are too cute."
Fuma tries to school his face into something that isn't a smile, "You don't like being called cute?"
"No way. I don't want to be cute. I want to be cool," Nicholas squints at him. "You don't think I'm cute right?" Fuma feels caught between a rock and a hard place. He probably should lie, but Nicholas is a little too adorable even like this.
"Well, you can be cool," Fuma says, his voice surprisingly calm. "But being cute isn't a bad thing."
Nicholas doesn't look happy at that answer, retracting his hand, "Nevermind. I don't want your opinion anymore, Fuma-san." If he wasn't already sulking before, he definitely is sulking now.
Fuma softens his tone, "Nicholas-san, I'm sorry for teasing." Nicholas doesn't budge. Fuma sighs before deciding to throw away some of his dignity. "If it makes you feel any better, I also have an animal that my friends compare me to..." Nicholas turns slightly like he's listening. "They call me a bunny."
There's a brief silence before Nicholas turns fully, already wary, "You're just saying that to make me feel better."
"I'm not lying. They say I look like a bunny when I smile," Fuma uses his phone with his wrapped hand, scrolling to a picture of him and his childhood friends grinning. "See?"
Nicholas takes the phone, zooming in and glancing between Fuma and the picture, "You're right. That is cute."
Fuma hopes he doesn't outwardly react to his words. He's been told all his life that he has an impressive poker face and for once he hopes that he's using it when he nods and says, "Thank you."
And then Nicholas leans in, hand on Fuma's wrist again. Fuma can barely blink before he bites off the cat cookie that is still pinched between his fingers. It makes a soft crunching noise but Fuma's brain is traitorously focused on Nicholas' lips brushing his fingertips, and the way they pull into a smirk.
"Got rid of the evidence," Nicholas says smugly, and he must find whatever expression Fuma has on his face funny because he laughs. "Are you okay, Fuma-san?" No, is Fuma's knee-jerk reaction answer. A closer approximate would probably be: why are you playing with my sanity like this? Fuma thanks the impressive self control and facade he's mastered over the years because it's doing well in helping him survive Nicholas' actions.
He takes a little too long to answer because concern passes over Nicholas' face and he lets go of Fuma's hand, "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, you didn't," Fuma assures quickly. "I was just a little surprised? Sorry." Nicholas looks like he wants more clarification, like he notices something off with Fuma's perfectly-cordial mask.
And Fuma can't stand the look on his face, maybe he's a little too far into liking him because he mumbles, "Pretty people make me nervous." Nicholas' eyes widen like he can't comprehend what Fuma has said. Clearly he was taken off guard and Fuma swears that he notices the start of a flush take over Nicholas' face.
He doesn't get to elaborate or even watch Nicholas' reaction further because someone else calls out his name, "Murata-san. May I come in? I have your results."
The doctor shuffles in after Fuma answers and Nicholas turns his face away, going to clean up the snacks. Fuma doesn't let his gaze linger. Instead he turns to the doctor, who explains that everything came back clean. No broken bones or injured brains. Just a light concussion and a sprain that will heal in two weeks. Great. Peachy. Except all his attention is still on Nicholas despite not looking at him.
The doctor says something about stitches and Nicholas stands. Fuma's eyes find his embarrassingly quick. Nicholas looks away first, excusing himself with a small 'I'll be back'. Fuma bobs his head though he doesn't want Nicholas to leave. He needs to seriously get a grip.
He's so distracted that he doesn't feel the pain of the stapler stitches beyond a slight pinch. The doctor must sense his distractedness, because she presses the slip of paper right into his hand instead of waiting.
"Here, this is for pain killers in case your head starts hurting again and a better wrap for your sprain," The doctor instructs before handing him another piece of paper. "These are the wound care instructions. You can get the stitches removed in a week if all goes well."
"Thank you, doctor."
The space feels empty without Nicholas here. Fuma finds himself looking around, searching for traces of him. The bag of unopened snacks, the chair still pushed close to his bag, and the bottle of strawberry latte, still half full. Fuma wants him to come back. It feels like he's five and upset because he can't understand that he was never going to see the friend he met at the park ever again. He should be grateful that Nicholas stayed that long at all.
Fuma reaches for his phone, opening the group chat. There's a few more messages from Yuma asking about the mystery guy and Yudai supplementing by saying he had a conversation with him. He hesitates a bit before sending what he has to say.
[ Chat: yumkeifum forever ]
fumaさん:
> getting discharged now ^^
> all's good, just a sprain, stitches, and a light concussion
> doctor said i needed rest
nayumkita:
> k, im free so ill pick ypu up
> hows ur new boy toy
kakkoi_king:
> POTENTIAL new boy toy.
> Assuming that "boy toy" means "date" or "boyfriend".
> Did you figure out if he was taken?
fumaさん:
> he isn't
kakkoi_king:
> Did you ask him out?
Fuma must take too long to respond because Yuma sends a message.
nayumkita:
> no way u fumbled the bag
kakkoi_king:
> What is this "fumbling the bag" thing?
nayumkita:
> like missing a chance
> tell me u AT LEAST got his number
fumaさん:
> i barely worked up the courage to call him pretty
> and then the doctor came
nayumkita:
> ITS BEEN ALMOSF THREE HOURS
fumaさん:
> yes, and it was a nice three hours
> he even bought me snacks after my CT scan
> but he's not here right now.
kakkoi_king:
> So he left?
fumaさん:
> ...he said he would be back, but
> i don't know
nayumkita:
> don't idk me rn.
> he bought u snacks
> that has to mean somwthing
Yuma is right. If it were Fuma in this situation, he's not sure he would go out of his way to get snacks for the person he sent to the emergency room. Maybe Nicholas feels something between them too. Or maybe, a louder voice in his head says, Nicholas is this nice to everyone.
kakkoi_king:
> I think he's going to come back.
> I'm sure of it.
> You'll ask him if he does, right?
> Your bag hasn't fumbled yet!!
nayumkita:
> thats not...well close enouvh
fumaさん:
> i'll try
That text isn't a lie at least. He wants to try. It's been years since someone has been able to make him feel so comfortable in such little time. And it isn't just about comfort, it's about...connection. Nicholas feels like a genuine soul, someone kind and a bit teasing. Someone that Fuma finds himself curious about. Someone Fuma wants to get to know better.
He can't possible give up because of nothing. He sends one last text, straight to Yuma's dms.
fumaさん:
> can you get me some chocolate?
> preferrably something strawberry
Yuma's reply comes instantly.
nayumkita:
> got it (imahine im saluting u rn)
> operation: make boy toy fall for u is a go!!!
So Fuma steels himself. He takes the bag of snacks and his duffle before discharging himself. The paperwork only requires a few signatures and for that he thanks the universe that his right hand is okay.
Fuma is walking to the pharmacy when he hears a familiar voice call out to him, "Fuma-san!" He half-turns, spotting Nicholas bounding up to him with quick strides. Relief crashes into him like the shock of cold water being poured over him. It's both electrifiying and somehow pleasant, once you get past how winded it initially makes you.
"You're trying to disappear with all the snacks I see," Nicholas jokes, his hand looping around the handle of the bag. "Let me."
Fuma acquiesces the bag, "I thought you disappeared on me." He almost wants to take it back when Nicholas pauses mid-step to look at him. It's too selfish to say. Too much.
Whatever Fuma thought he would find, he doesn't find it because there's a soft smile on Nicholas' face, "I told you I'd be back. You didn't believe me, did you?" Fuma doesn't answer that one, and Nicholas nudges the elbow of his good hand, "Sorry for taking so long. Are we heading to the pharmacy?" Fuma nods mutely, the slip of paper in his hand wrinkling at the amount of force he's exerting on it.
Nicholas chats with the lady at the pharmacy counter while Fuma stands there like a polite robot. He feels every part like a robot, nodding and smiling when prompted as if part of his coding. Nicholas leads him out of the hospital and Fuma follows like it's his perrogative to do so. In mere minutes, Fuma soon finds himself perched on a bench, his new wrist brace in Nicholas' hands.
"Here," Nicholas isn't even hesitating anymore as he tugs Fuma's injured wrist onto his lap. "I'll help you put this on." Fuma watches, quietly contemplating as Nicholas carefully unwraps his wrist. He should say something right about now. It would be easier if Nicholas is distracted, and it would soften the blow should Nicholas not reciprocate his curiosity.
"Uhm—"
"So—"
Their eyes meet in clumsy surprise and Nicholas breathes out a laugh, "You wanna go first, or?" Fuma shakes his head. He does not, in fact, want to go first. He would rather not go at all, but he can't disappoint himself, Yudai, and Yuma in one go.
"So, I was thinking that maybe I should make it up to you, y'know, for ruining your Valentine's day by sending you to the hospital," Nicholas pauses, giving Fuma space to object or...or something. Nicholas continues because Fuma stays silent, "This is for you."
Nicholas presents a colorful box and Fuma's mouth moves before he can stop it, "Pikachu?" Thankfully Fuma's contact lenses are not failing him, and it is Pikachu adorned on the side of rhe box. He turns it, finding Nyahoja, Hogator, and Kuwassu printed on the other side along with text that reads, 'chocolate corn puff snack'.
Fuma is at a loss of words, "How did you...?"
"Your pouch and chat background were both Pokémon," Nicholas replies easily, a lopsided smile on his face. "I didn't know what kind of chocolate you'd like so I thought this would work too. Unless," Nicholas looks unsure for the first time since the accident happened. "I'm reading things wrong? If I am then you can take it as tomo-choco I don't mi—"
"You're not," Fuma interrupts. "Misreading things, I mean." His heart beats out a frantic rhythm because this is really happening.
Nicholas almost looks shy as he nods, "Okay, good. Then you can take them as they are."
"You beat me to it," Fuma can't stop the smile on his face, his cheeks stretching so wide it hurts. "I was about to ask you the same thing. Minus the thoughtful gift."
Nicholas seems to find it funny and he leans a little closer, "Really? Was that what you were about to say earlier?"
"Kind of? I wasn't lying when I said I was nervous," Fuma stares at him, all sparkly eyes and a brand of attentiveness Fuma never would've thought he would enjoy. "Honestly, I thought you were out of my league."
"What?" Nicholas gapes before gesturing. "No way. Have you looked in a mirror? You're a literal modern day Adonis. If I wasn't so terrified about your scan results then maybe I would've oggled your arms a little more." God. Nicholas' candor is bad for him. Fuma can feel himself flushing hot from his words.
Nicholas seems to enjoy the sight, "Your reactions are cute, Fuma-san. Very bunny of you." Fuma's phone rings, which saves him from having to answer.
"Hello?" Fuma picks up without looking and he can feel Nicholas' stare stuck to the side of his face.
"Fuma-san," Yuma singsongs, and there's a few clicking noises. "Where are you? I just parked, do you need me to meet you where you are?"
"No, I'm okay, I'll head over there," Fuma stands, and Nicholas goes with him. He leans over to whisper, "My friend came to pick me up."
"Also, is operation: boy toy still ongoing?"
"Okay, please never call it that ever again," Fuma glances at Nicholas, who is walking next to him without a care. "But it is ongoing."
"Great, cuz I got you some quality chocolates," Yuma is audibly grinning. "I can't wait to meet your Mr. Future Maybe-Boyfriend."
Fuma almost trips over nothing, Nicholas catching his elbow and squeezing. Nicholas' expression is one of concern before he speaks, "Careful."
Fuma nods before turning back to his phone, "I'm hanging up. I'll see you at the front of the hospital." Fuma makes good on his word, cutting the call before Yuma could get another word in.
"You okay?" Right. Nicholas. His arm is still looped around his and this close Fuma can take in the finer details of his face, the slope of his nose and the way his lashes flutter.
Fuma swallows, "Yeah, my friend was just teasing me."
Nicholas still keeps a hold on Fuma, like he's afraid he'll trip and fall again. Fuma doesn't try to reassure him otherwise, content with letting his arm be held. They stop as they reach the front of the hospital.
"Before I forget, could I have your number?" Fuma asks bashfully, handing over his phone.
"That's bold of you," Nicholas says as he keys it in. "I thought I was going to have to ask first." That's what the blond says but there's a mega-watt smile beaming on his face as he customizes his contact.
"Fuma-san~" Fuma almost winces when he sees people turn and stare at the flamboyant way Yuma calls out to him. He turns to see Yuma waving and skipping over before the younger tilts his head.
He stops a meter away with brows furrowed, staring not at Fuma but beyond him, "Nicholas?"
Nicholas, who is still typing something into Fuma's phone, looks up, "Oh, Yuma. What are you doing here?" Fuma's brain logs out right there. Did he miss out on something or is someone playing a prank on him?
"Wait," Yuma gestures at Nicholas with emphasis, "Nico was the one that almost killed you?"
And in the next second, Nicholas seems to figure it out, "Ah, so you're the friend that's here to pick Fuma-san up?" He also looks surprised, so Fuma feels less bad about being shocked into silence.
"Fuma. Earth to Fuma," Yuma's slightly shaking him now. "Tell me what's going on."
Nicholas frowns, "Don't. He had a concussion earlier today."
"That was because of you," Yuma says and Nicholas jabs him in the ribs. Oh. They were familiar with each other. Enough that Yuma is teasing and Nicholas is reciprocating back.
Fuma rigidly turns to Nicholas, "You two... How come..? What?"
"I'm Harua's friend," Nicholas explains, sheepishly rubbing his neck. "I've met Yuma a couple of times before, but we hung out one on one earlier this week. If I had known you were Yuma's friend..." The dots start connecting in Fuma's head almost too late. Harua's friend that Yuma met earlier this week? Wasn't that—?
"So you're telling me," There's a vengeful cloud forming over Yuma, tone venomous as he turns to Fuma. "That I offered to introduce you to Nicholas today. You very clearly said no. And now you're into him anyway? Are you kidding me?"
And of course, Nicholas latches onto the one part Fuma dreads, "You said no?" His voice is small, metaphorical cat ears drooping on his head. Fuma feels like he accidentally insulted a baby or something stupidly immoral like that, seeing the frown etch itself into Nicholas' face.
"He's not— He didn't even get to telling me your name, he just told me you were sporty," Fuma says, trying to ease the beginnings of the sulk on his face.
Yuma all but cackles, "Oh this is rich, Haru's gonna have a field day!" Fuma's hands hover uselessly because he doesn't know how to appease Nicholas. He barely knows him. This was unfair interference from Yuma's part.
"Hey, this is for you from Fuma, you drama queen," Yuma snorts, handing over a box. "And stop fake-sulking, you're already giving Fuma-kun a hard time."
"I'm not fake-sulking," Nicholas says defiantly though he accepts the box. "Also how could you skip over my name and my picture when introducing me? At least set me up properly, idiot." Yuma just sticks out his tongue before walking off toward the parking lot.
Nicholas looks up at Fuma before shaking the box, "I wonder what this is?" He opens the box, rows of chocolate covered strawberries gleaming under the sunlight. Nicholas bites into one, humming in approval at the taste. "It's really good," Nicholas says mid-chew and Fuma swears he doesn't track the movement when Nicholas licks at his lip.
"Nicholas," Nicholas seems to perk up at the lack of honorific and Fuma feels himself grow a bit more nervous. "When are you free? I would love to take you out for a date."
The answer is automatic, "Tomorrow."
Fuma almost flinches, "Tomorrow?"
"Is that too soon?" Nicholas worries at his bottom lip. "I don't want you to strain yourself. You're still injured."
"We can take it slowly, something calm and normal," Fuma offers Nicholas his hand and he squeezes it tight. "How about a coffee shop?"
"I know just the place," Nicholas tilts his head. "You probably shouldn't keep Yuma waiting for longer. He's going to start complaining."
"Don't I know it," Fuma replies, but it doesn't make it any easier to let go. Still, he does, loosening his grip on Nicholas' hand.
Nicholas grasps at his hand before he can completely let go. He tugs Fuma into a hug. Fuma's brain almost goes offline, and he barely manages to reciprocate before Nicholas pulls away. Something lingers in the air, faintly scented of jasmine even after Nicholas goes.
Nicholas has already turned away when Fuma's brain comes back online. When he looks up, the blond is waving, "See you tomorrow, Fuma-kun!"
Fuma waves back. He looks down at his phone once Nicholas disappears, finding a contact saved under 'nicotenshi' with a heart next to it. Impatience wins and Fuma sends off a text message as soon as he gets into Yuma's car.
[ new chat opened ]
fuma:
> nico tenshi ?
nicotenshi <3:
> you love it
> ;)))
As Fuma grins down at the phone, a thought crosses his mind: maybe Valentine's day isn't as bad as he thought it was. Maybe he can even grow to like it more since it brought Nicholas into his life. Especially if Nicholas decides to stick around and stay. Fuma hopes he does.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Later on in the day, Fuma has to explain to Yudai— on video call, the older insisted— about what happened while Yuma supplements with sound effects and kissy noises.
Yudai looks enlightened as he speaks, "So the mystery man who sent you to the hospital...turned out to be Harua's friend...the same one that Yuma offered to set you up with earlier today...?"
Fuma weakly nods and Yudai gets excited, smacking his pillow a few times, "That sounds like a fairytale! Is he cute? Or more on the manly side? I need to see a picture of him!"
Fuma sighs, "I don't have any."
"I do!" Yuma chimes in, before smiling smugly at the camera. "Check our group chat." Fuma opens the group chat almost nervously. Surely Yuma means he has a normal picture of Nicholas. Maybe a group photo from one of their hangouts. He clicks to download the image. Knowing Yuma, he shouldn't let his guard down.
Fuma almost chokes when the picture of Nicholas loads. It almost feels like he got hit by another basketball. It's the familiar blonde hair, styled so it curls and the same silver necklace he wore today. But what gets Fuma is the way the loose, red-and-white long sleeve his hooked onto his shoulder, revealing his bare bicep and arm. A scar wraps over his forearm, adorned with silver bracelets and matching silver rings. Fuma swallows when his eyes sweep down. It should be illegal the way his form-fitting tank top rides up to reveal just the barest sliver of skin above his belt.
So Fuma was mistaken. Nicholas isn't an angel in today's modern stereotype; innocent and pure and altruistic. Nicholas is the kind of angel that burns into your memory the second you catch his gaze. The kind that is like the sun, warm yet dangerous to stare at for too long for fear of being consumed. Fuma finds he doesn't mind being consumed if it is Nicholas.
Yuma is full-on cackling at him when he tunes back into the call. It's almost like this was the funniest thing he's ever seen and even Yudai chuckles before speaking again, "He's got you wrapped around his finger already."
Fuma attempts human speech, "How did you—"
"His very public Instagram account," Yuma leans in, pressing his face closer to the camera. "Don't tell me this is what gets you to make an Instagram account."
Fuma very shamelessly moves to the application he hasn't opened since Yuma downloaded it on his phone all those months ago. He ignores the way Yuma starts grumbling and Yudai being excited and wanting an account too. Maybe it was time for him to branch out to new social media platforms.
After the call ends, Fuma spends too long picking a profile picture and a username, only for Nicholas follow him back instantly. Fuma tries not to think about how he only follows three other people, including Nicholas. Nicholas seems to follow hundreds of people and has thousands of followers. He hopes his inexperience doesn't change anything.
Fuma's phone buzzes and there are messages from the very person Fuma is waiting for.
nicotenshi <3:
> like what u see fuma-kun ?
> can't wait for tomorrow
> ill dress up ;))
Oh. Fuma is seriously fucked, isn't he?