sweetdeath | [26 | voice, Japanese | backdated to Monday]

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[26 | voice, Japanese | backdated to Monday]

... Ow, my head. Um-- I, uh, I hope I haven't been gone too - shit!

[Locked from Muraki]

Hope I haven't been gone too long! And I'm gonna be getting out of here as fast as I can. It's not still snowing out there, is it?

[Locked to Hisoka]

I'm - I'm sorry about that. [rustling of cloth and footsteps in the background as he speaks] I really didn't think I was going to get sick... What happened? I don't remember a lot of it. What day is this?

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I don't mind. [Meeting Okita-san would probably be interesting, and having someone bring the food to them for once would be a refreshing change, besides.]

[He glanced around the room, feeling slightly restless and wishing more than ever that there was something to do so he could stop standing there uselessly.]

I'll ask him to come over when I get up, then. [Tsuzuki grinned, shoving himself up from the chair and crossing over to the cupboards. His futon had to be in there somewhere... and there it was, in the second one he opened. He yanked it out, the messy roll coming undone, and dumped it on the floor, and paused.]

[A dark, ragged-edged stain marked the center of the blanket. Right. Of course. He'd been shot, and so he'd bled. And man, with two days to set, that stain was never going to be clean. And. He hastily flipped the blanket in half to hide the stain.]

Um... hey, Hisoka? Can I borrow your futon?

[Hisoka turned to look out the window so he wouldn't have to look at the blood stain spread over the blanket. It wouldn't come out, now. Not after he'd acted like a coward and left it in there for the entire time Tsuzuki had been gone. And Tsuzuki was an idiot if he thought folding the thing in half would make Hisoka forget it was there.]

...Sure.

[A pause.]

I'll wash the other one later.

[He hadn't expected Hisoka to forget. But leaving it there to catch his peripheral vision would be worse. He winced, gathering the stained blankets up and shoving them back into the cupboard. The door didn't quite close.]

Don't worry about it. I can help.

[It was his blood, after all, right?]

[He walked over to the corner where Hisoka's futon was folded - and not put away, he realized, but then the bloodstained one had been in the cupboard. Wincing again, he spread it out, sitting down.]

I can handle it.

[It wasn't Tsuzuki's responsibility.]

It's okay, Hisoka. Really.

[He grinned, forcing his voice into a lighter tone.] We could always share, right?

...I can sleep on the floor.

I promise to stay on my side of the futon.

I said--

...

Fine. You can sleep on the floor, then.

Edited 2009-08-28 06:12 (UTC)

But Hisokaaaaa.

[That was the reaction he'd been looking for - complete with blush, even. Tsuzuki couldn't hold back a grin.]

Can I have a blanket, at least? I'll get cold.

...Maybe.

[He understood what Tsuzuki was trying to do. But he'd let him. It felt better, like things were going back to normal. Like Tsuzuki really was back.]

I guess that'll have to do...

[He trailed off dramatically, balling his coat up into a pillow, and stretched out on the side of Hisoka's futon. There was plenty of room left, really.]

[Ignoring Tsuzuki, Hisoka sat at one of the desks, picked up the book lying on it, and flipped through the pages to find where he'd left off.]

[Tsuzuki smiled to himself, stretching out more comfortably, and hardly had time to think about relaxing before he was asleep.]

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[26 | voice, Japanese | backdated to Monday]

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