Nezumi / Shion One-Shot(s)

sick buddy

Shion is dying.

Okay, well, Nezumi said he's being dramatic, but he's not.

His head felt foggy and his body ached; he suddenly couldn't remember a time when he didn't feel like he was swallowing glass, and the worst part, Nezumi wouldn't even kiss him.

"I don't want your disease," he said, leaning in the entrance-way to the kitchen with his arms crossed.

"It's not a disease, it's a cold!" Shion shouted before a sneeze wracked his body, snot flying out of his nose.

Nezumi gagged and walked back into the kitchen.

Shion groaned and wiped his nose across his sleeve, the crustiness from his previous sneeze attacks staring back at him. Gross.

He knew he should've listened when Nezumi told him to bring a jacket to his play the other night. Neither of them had a car and he knew they had to walk over a mile in the freezing cold, but Shion insisted it wasn't necessary. He was too lazy to rummage through the dryer to find something clean and dressy enough to wear to the performance anyways. The conversation went something like:

"I don't need one, I have you to keep me warm!"

"You're dumb."

The performance was still enjoyable though, of course, even if the playhouse wasn't the most secure building with the best heating system and had him covered in goosebumps by the end of it. Most of the buildings in the west district were pretty run down, Shion knew this by now. But at the time he didn't even mind his teeth chattering from the cold or that he had to sit on his hands to keep his fingers from falling off. He was too busy focusing on the exceptionally beautiful Eve.

The way Nezumi so easily morphed into character was astounding. Watching him gracefully move around the stage with the fabric of his dress swirling behind him as he delivered his lines never failed to leave Shion completely entranced. He truly was in love with the most beautiful man alive, inside and out; even though most people found that hard to believe.

So now there he was, staring at Nezumi's endless bookshelf but feeling too exhausted to walk over and pick one to read himself; listening to Nezumi tinker away in the kitchen while trying to make Shion some decent soup with the little ingredients available to him. Even though Shion didn't ask for any.

It's funny how often people wrote Nezumi off as some heartless bastard with no emotions when he cared for Shion so fiercely.

Shion eventually tired of staring at the worn down books and decided to force himself out of bed for only the third time that day. It was a struggle to even sit all the way up and he whined as he did it.

He heard Nezumi's clattering come to a halt.

"What are you doing?" came a concerned voice from the kitchen.

Shion stilled.

"Nothing ..." Shion dragged the word out.

The clattering then started up again and Shion giggled to himself before getting off the bed. He was immediately woozy and his body felt heavier than it ever had in his entire life; even though he's pretty sure he'd lost weight since he got sick. Eating felt like too much work.

Sniffling and shuffling, Shion made his way into the kitchen. He stood there for a second, just watching.

Nezumi had his back to him and was stirring a giant pot with a dark wooden spoon. It was the one Shion's mother had given to Nezumi a few weeks ago. He originally used to stir everything with a fork, and to Karan, that was absolutely ridiculous.