By Your Side (ioriku)

2

Somehow, the next day, Iori found himself stuck in a daydream.

Stuck in a daze with all his thoughts surrounding the sleep-talking boy with the resting face of an angel. Iori wished he would have felt him. Wished he could have gently patted his head or brushed a hand against his cheek. Just for the sake of satisfying his curiosity. To see whether the boy was as soft as Iori had imagined him to be. To see if—

Tamaki clears his throat, "I-o-rin," he sings, sitting on a courtyard bench outside of the school. "Are you okay?"

Iori focuses, taking in his surroundings. His friend is sitting to his right, staring at him like he's gone insane, and Iori was slowly getting there.

"I'm perfectly fine," Iori coughs, but the tint of pink on his cheeks suggested otherwise.

"Uh-huh," the blue-haired boy replies, not quite believing him. But, he doesn't question it any further as he's far too fascinated with the King Pudding in his hand instead.

The two sit side-by-side during the passing period, free time. Iori couldn't stand the wait. He pulls out a notebook, taking the time to get ahead on his homework assignments. But, as he gripped the pencil, nothing came of it. His mind wandered off instead.

He found his way right back to Nanase Riku. The boy with red hair. The boy with a brother called Tenn-nii. The boy who talked in his sleep. The boy who nobody ever visited. The boy who took a prescribed medicine. The boy in the hospital.

Iori feels a lingering presence peering over his right shoulder. It's Tamaki, who is staring a little too intently at the notebook in Iori's lap.

"Nanase...  Riku?" Tamaki reads out loud, the name flat and unfamiliar in his mouth. "Who's that?"

Iori didn't realize that not only was he thinking about Riku, but apparently he'd been writing about him too.

"Just... someone," Iori says, shutting his thought-ridden notebook.

"Someone?" Tamaki pouts, tilting his head in suspicion, spoon in mouth. "Like a friend?"

"I guess."

"Wait," Tamaki says, after a long while. "But, you don't have any friends."

"Yes, I do," Iori insists through gritted teeth.

"Really? I thought I was your only friend."

"Why would you ever think that?"

Except Tamaki wasn't wrong, and Iori knew it all too well. Iori wasn't good at befriending people, whereas Tamaki was friends with the entire school. And since the two were partners in class, it was an inevitable friendship.

"Well, Nanase Riku is my friend," Iori says, biting his lower lip. Did he really just lie again?

He almost feels guilty. Almost.

"Whatever you say," Tamaki hums, shaking his head and moving on to his second pudding cup. He forgets the conversation just as quickly as it had started. But, it stays stuck on Iori's mind for the rest of the school day.

Well, Nanase Riku is my friend.

But, that was nowhere near true. And it never would be. Iori wasn't going to befriend some boy he'd accidentally stumbled upon like a sleeping princess in the forest. It was just wrong. Plain wrong.

Yet somehow, there he was that same afternoon after school. Standing in front of the very door he'd once opened. The door to Riku's hospital room.

❧

He hesitates before entering.

His shoes squeak as he kicks them against the floor. But, Iori can't stop himself from fidgeting. He's afraid that maybe this time Riku will be awake, and that he'll be an entirely different person compared to the one Iori created in his mind. What if he wasn't as sweet as he looked? What if, what if...

"Oh, it's you," a soft voice from behind. It's the nurse from yesterday, dressed in minty scrubs from head-to-toe. Her black hair is slicked back into a tight, low ponytail. "Go on in! I'm sure Riku-kun will be thrilled to see you."

She opens the door for him, encouraging Iori to step inside. So he does. It's a nervous few steps, but he's finally in. The nurse shuts the door with a click, leaving Iori to fend for himself.

Iori clears his throat, straightening up, "H-Hello?"

The stammer was unintentional and also embarrassing, but he headed further inside anyway, head raised high and chest puffed out as he passed the red curtains. He isn't sure what to expect, or what to say. But, when he finds the boy asleep, Iori sighs in relief.

The room feels different from yesterday. More serene. Probably because now Iori was here for a reason. But, what exactly was that reason?

Riku looks the same as yesterday. Though, his face is more relaxed, as is his posture. His eyes are closed and his lips pouted. His hand rests on his chest, the other on his side and tucked beneath a blanket.

Iori can't stop staring. He snaps out of his silly trance soon enough. If he was going to stare, at the very least he'd pull out a chair and sit as he stared.

But, now, here he was, as crazy as it sounded: Sitting on the uncomfortable chair, backpack in his lap, leaning forward with the deep intent to watch the sleeping boy in... What was it? Admiration? Fascination? Intrigue? Well, whatever it was, it was addicting, and Iori would never get enough of it.

Suddenly, the boy starts to roll over, which startles Iori. Riku's expression changes from relaxed to upset, his eyes tightening and his grip on the blanket is far more aggressive. It isn't until a few seconds in that Iori realizes that Riku is having a nightmare.

He springs into action, lulling Riku back to a more serene rest. Iori stands in front of the bed, softly stroking Riku on the back, pulling the blanket over his body and tucking him back in. Riku settles once more, his face softening. Within a minute, he's calm again.

Iori isn't sure why he did it. Why he felt compelled to comfort him. But right now, he feels compelled to touch him again. To touch his head, trace his nose, press his hand against his forehead. He extends his hand close, nearly, almost touching him.

"What are you doing?" A strict voice from behind him.

The curtain pulls back in a violent tug.

Iori jumps back and quickly retracts. He nearly trips over the chair behind him. The sight of a boy with eyes so fierce startled him more than he could ever imagine.

"Who are you?" The boy with white hair asks, fists balled.

Iori stares with his eyes squinted in surprise at the boy who bore a striking resemblance to Nanase Riku. Could it be?

"Are you Tenn-nii?" Iori asks, it slips out accidentally, so he quickly covers his mouth, regretting it all.

The boy lowers his chin in surprise, narrowing his eyes before sternly asking, "Who gave you permission to call me by that name?"

Iori realizes that he's right, so he lowers his head in apology, mumbling a quick, "Sorry."

The boy steps closer. "You didn't answer my question," he says with a whispery aggression. "Who are you?"

"I'm..." Iori begins, looking around the room as if the answer were around here somewhere. "I'm Izumi Iori."

"Izumi Iori," the boy repeated, the name left a sour taste on his tongue. "What are you doing here?"

Iori looks down at a sleeping Riku and back up at the vicious Tenn-nii and then at his hands that tremble with an anxiety that wasn't there before. Why was he here? He didn't even know the answer to that himself.

"Uh," Iori hesitates, his shoes squeaking against the floor once more. But, he straightens up with a false confidence. "I'm visiting," the words fall out rigidly, and yet he continues. "He's my friend."

--

a/n:

ok i've decided ! new chapters will b on weekends! (but im impatient so maybe they'll be even earlier...) we'll see how it goes 👍 :3