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Twice he missed the keyhole and listened to the loud clattering of his apartment and car keys reminding him where he should be instead of here. Blaming it on the cold before the alcohol, he cursed under his breath, ignoring the feeling the door was judging him. He adjusted his grip, and almost smoothly this time, it slid in. The lock clicked. Like the plucking of a string, the world pounded into his head with clarity for a beat, then decayed back into woolly obscurity.
He stumbled in just the same, yanking the door shut behind him. Tossing his keys onto the table and trying then abandoning toeing off his boots, he scrubbed at his face with the heels of his palms. Now in the warmth of the entryway, face hot as he shivered and sniffed, he wanted out of this outfit before he screamed. He groaned to himself. It had felt disgusting enough out there, and here he was bringing the grime of his own shitty problems into the sanctity of Kyo’s home.
A bed creaked slowly in the other room, and the thought of Kyo seeing him like this, though it was by his own design, made his already unsteady gut turn. Somewhere halfway to the bathroom, with his fur coat halfway off, his shoulder banged against another, his mind too set on its track to take note.
Without bothering with the light, he fell to his knees with such force in front of the toilet even in his state he knew they would bruise. The sound was always worse than anything else. Retching and gagging, sputtering, coughing, hiccuping. Mostly-liquid puke gathered in the bowl, what was hopefully the last of it trailing down from his bottom lip slowly.
There was a pounding in Yuchi’s head at each drowsy step he heard approaching. He could feel sweat drenched hair against his face, trailing its way down to gather at the wet corners of his bitter, bitter mouth. Slipping down across the cold floor, he rested his cheek against the toilet seat and groaned, eyebrows pinching as his stomach protested.
Light flooded the bathroom and Yuchi squinted against it, the wood grain of the counter materializing in front of him.
“Yuchi?”
Guilt panged in Yuchi’s chest at the soft confusion in his voice. There’d been such hesitant, hopeful trust in the way Kyo had presented him a set of keys to his apartment, and Yuchi had no doubt betrayed and destroyed all of it in the matter of a minute. The only word to describe the small noise he made was pathetic.
The edge of Kyo’s black sleep pants crept into view. This would be the time he was finally done with Yuchi’s shit, Yuchi knew it as well as he knew winter nights were cold. As well as he knew he was cold, and dizzy, and still nauseous, and absolutely miserable. Kyo was a kind-hearted person, it was one of many things Yuchi admired about him, but nobody was impenetrable.
A hand on Yuchi’s back steadied Kyo’s descent to crouch next to him, staying there as two worried brown eyes skittered around his face. It soothed its way up and back down. Yuchi focused on it, letting himself steal undeserved comfort.
“Yuchi.” It was all he said, again. Vomit rose in Yuchi’s throat. He swallowed it.
Mumbled and garbled, he tried to respond. “I’m sorry.”
Silence followed, gently wavering against the hum of the fan in a pulse Yuchi swore he could feel. His head swam with it until even Kyo’s presence was more of an idea, something pushing against the bounds of his mind that couldn’t quite reach in to solidify itself. If he lingered in it long enough, maybe he could construct himself a more pleasant reality.
It was a suffocating loneliness.
He felt the movement around him as his stomach lurched, the Idea of a Lover collecting his hair behind him as more vomit joined his first bout. He heaved above it, tears forming in his eyes; hints of his ruined lipstick tinted the sickness like a taunt. The emptiness of his stomach was both a lifted weight and a violent shuddering sent through him.
“You’ll be okay,” Kyo said faintly, flatly, seeming to materialize, and suddenly Yuchi was being gathered into his arms, no regard given to the sour spit that immediately trailed its way onto Kyo’s shirt.
It was a lumbersome rearrangement, Yuchi’s woozy shaking wanting to pull him to the floor and his height forcing uncomfortable positions. He ended up damn near slumped over Kyo, kneeling on top of Kyo’s own kneeled lap. His neck was bent painfully to accommodate his forehead tentatively nuzzling against Kyo’s shoulder. Somewhere in the process Kyo must’ve removed his coat the rest of the way. Arms soundly hugged around him, one at his waist while the other hand weaved into his hair. Immediately, he felt ridiculous. He was too tall and too old to be cradled just because he got a little too drunk and sad. He should be used to that by now.
Yuchi mumbled a curse, trying to shove himself away but only managing to cling to Kyo’s shirt like a cat at the vet.
The absurdity of catching Pinhead’s angry gaze staring back at him—his mind imagining Kyo in its place, who had on occasion given that same glare after Yuchi refused his affections—had him choke more than laugh. He heard Kyo hum in response. A short one, with an inflection Yuchi can’t decipher, and so close to his ear he scrunches away from it.
Along the nape of his neck, Kyo’s thumb settled into a rhythm. In the deadness, the sound of his lips parting was like a warning. “Where are you coming from?”
“I’m sorry,” Yuchi repeated, watery, because they’re the only words he knows. And Kyo said nothing, because his question hadn’t yet been answered. It sat in the air. “Close by… from a few weeks ago?”
It’d been a bad night then too. They'd both been on edge, checking around themselves for menaces of one kind or another and checking themselves for targets they might’ve unintentionally placed. Kyo had been grumpy and uncomfortable the whole time. At least they’d been together. Kyo might’ve obliged if Yuchi had asked him to come again tonight, but he hadn’t wanted to put him into that position.
Really, he shouldn’t have bothered going out. He should’ve asked Kyo if he could come over to begin with. Kyo, who kept beer in his fridge specifically for Yuchi, and who would’ve had no issue with getting dolled up with Yuchi just to watch a movie on the couch. That had not occurred to Yuchi at the time.
Kyo considered that answer without responding, then shifted slightly. “Can you sit up?”
No. Yuchi ducked his chin.
He slowly released his hold, propping Yuchi against the cabinet and easing his hands out of their tight clutch. Whining at the loss Yuchi moved to tuck his legs against his chest but gave up when his platforms made the position strained, leaving them half-bent. Bare feet slapped against the linoleum as Kyo stepped over them and left the bathroom.
Soon he’d be back. In no time at all really. Just like his spinning head that was starting to recover from near paralyzing fear that Kyo would yell at him, Yuchi knew Kyo would never leave him in this condition. It still made him worry. His eyes shut as he cursed Kyo’s choice of white lighting for not the first time.
For a moment, as he was startled out of his dozing, Yuchi thought the skittering he heard was a sign of imminent death. Perhaps some demon from beyond. Or a dog, as opening his eyes would have him discover. The wide eyes looking up at him under scraggly fur couldn’t keep his attention well when Kyo followed steps behind.
He looked up at the tired eyes holding a glass of water out to him and processed for the first time what he mostly knew that Kyo had probably been near sleep when he’d arrived, if not already out. The water splashed dangerously close to the rim as Yuchi took it with a shaking hand, securing it underneath with his other as he took a small sip then a swallow that felt at first like drowning.
Pun looped once around Kyo’s feet in an eight, stared at the water Yuchi held with interest, then left as scampering as she’d come, no doubt to find water of her own. Kyo huffed a laugh, then slumped down the wall to sit opposite Yuchi.
Gracefully, he waited for Yuchi to finish the water before he spoke again. Though as was frequent, his words lacked that same grace.
“You look like a dead bird.”
Yuchi managed to weakly glare at him. Kyo's fingers fidgeted around each other as he gazed at the ground.
“Did something happen?” Kyo asked, sounding strained. Worried.
It was probably bad that Yuchi’s first thought at the implication was wishing something had, so he’d have an excuse to be here. So he’d have an excuse for Kyo to comfort him.
He shook his head, sheepish, then remembered Kyo wasn’t looking. “No…”
Kyo did look up then, staring at Yuchi’s eyes so intently it was clear he wasn’t looking at them at all, rather trying to think.
When he suddenly moved to crawl halfway over Yuchi’s legs—sitting down on his knees, Kyo’s own knees ending up on either side of Yuchi’s head—and plucked the empty glass out of his hand to place it out of the way on the floor, Yuchi reeled back, head banging against the cabinet behind him. But Kyo peeled off his false lashes, reaching up to place them on the counter.
Yuchi blinked a few times, the position coincidentally placing the vocalist’s crotch at eye level, but when he looked up and found Kyo staring down at him with a fond expression, holding a makeup wipe, he figured this was okay.
His eyes fell shut easily as he gave in to the feeling of Kyo’s hand roaming his lips, and eyelids, and the bridge of his nose, while the other cupped his cheek like a brace. As minutes passed thoughts seemed to fade, leaving in their wake only the knowledge they would inevitably return.
By the time he threw a third makeup wipe in the trash can, swiping his thumb affectionately over Yuchi’s now bare cheek, Yuchi’s surroundings felt truly real for the first time in hours. His eyes fluttered open and met Kyo’s, though the other quickly looked down.
“I wouldn’t have given you the key if you weren’t allowed to use it,” Kyo promised quietly, tracing Yuchi’s bottom lip.
Caught up in the gentleness of the moment, Yuchi almost didn’t catch what he said. When he did, the unpromptedness of it made him hum in question.
“That’s why you were apologizing, right?” Kyo questioned. Yuchi nodded, face flushing. “It’s better you’re here than somewhere else.”
When Yuchi just stared up at him looking lost and dreamy, Kyo smiled. Sliding his hand back to hold Yuchi’s face in it fully, he pressed a kiss against his lips that was pulled away before it could be returned, face scrunching.
“The water didn’t get rid of the taste,” he complained, and looked a bit shocked to hear Yuchi giggle.
Smiling and with his stomach fluttering in a much more pleasant manner, Kyo moving away from him didn’t feel half the ordeal it did before. His urge to whine—which he deliberately did not obey—was just his usual lovesickness. The glass on the floor was swept into Kyo’s hand as he stood before the other was courteously held out. It made Yuchi feel a bit like a princess to accept it.
Standing sent Yuchi’s head in a spiral, reminding him first that no amount of vomit or kisses could make him magically not drunk, and then, that he was still wearing platforms.
“I want to get back to sleep now…” Kyo said wistfully, glancing in the direction of the bedroom. “So I can get you some clothes you left over before while you brush your teeth.”
A presumption, rather than an invitation. Though it should’ve been obvious given the circumstances, and while staying over was the furthest thing from a novel idea by now, it still made Yuchi as giddy as the first time. Only his ability to contain it had improved.
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he beamed, blaming that very much uncontained joy on the alcohol.
Kyo rolled his eyes and went to leave, two dogs swarming around his feet curiously the moment he stepped past the doorframe, but Yuchi had seen the small smile still on his face too.
“And flush the toilet, please.” Yuchi laughed brightly.