Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Oh, it's Falin!”

Kabru looked up tiredly. There she was indeed, one foot out the door. She was leaving for work, he supposed, just as they got home. It made sense, he thought. That time when she came to pick Laios up, from class, she was on her way to work, as far as he could remember. That gave him a pretty good idea of what the time was, if nothing else. He nodded at her with an apologetic smile as he tried to free himself from Laios' jacket – Laios wanted to let him have it, and when Kabru refused, he insisted that they should share, which made walking an awkward, dangerous process, but did make him feel warm, at the very least – and approached her with his hand held out. “It's good to see you, miss Falin,” he said, sending her a sunny smile, “I'm sorry for, um, the intrusion-”

Falin took his hand into both of hers and gave it a light squeeze. Her eyes scanned his face curiously, presumably looking for signs of sickness. Laios must have told her, Kabru thought. He said that he told her about the soup, after all. “The soup's good! I checked on it just a moment ago,” she informed as she glanced up at Laios behind him. Laios nodded his head with gratitude. Kabru opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Falin turned to him again with a determined look on her face. “Rest well so you can get better soon,” she said emphatically, putting up her index finger. “My brother will take care of you. I knew that he'd bring you home,” she added under her breath so that Laios wouldn't hear. Kabru gulped and nodded his head to show that he understood.

It didn't seem like there was any doubt in her mind that Laios came in order to retrieve him. Perhaps she would be surprised, then, to see that Kabru had to beg him to so much as consider that option, he thought bitterly. He scoffed at his own desperation as he recalled it now, in a significantly more stable state of mind. Usually, he would fight the impulse to do something as embarrassing as this. Pleading with Laios not to abandon him? There was no reason to be this dramatic. Laios said that he would be back with soup in a few hours, and that he would keep checking on him later, too. He wasn't walking out of his life forever. But back then, those hours felt like they would last an eternity. Spending any more time in this glorified hotel room he never thought of as home, with nothing but a dying rose to keep him company, would have been torturous.

But perhaps Falin knew this, too. She seemed to know many things, including things about her brother that he didn't seem aware of. Perhaps she expected that, despite his doubts, he wouldn't allow himself to leave Kabru behind. He tilted his head, sending her a quizzical look, and she smiled brightly at him as she passed by, heading towards the staircase.

While Kabru watched Falin race down the stairs with a long scarf flowing behind her and her shoelaces untied, threatening to cause a disaster but never making good on it, Laios went inside and put Kabru's bag on the floor, heaving a sigh. Instantly, Kabru felt a pang of guilt. Laios carried the bag all the way from Kabru's apartment, along with his backpack. He insisted that it was fine, that he could handle it and Kabru shouldn't be carrying heavy things while he was sick. And Kabru happily let him carry it, of course. He carelessly filled it with all of the things he might or might need, too. After all, if he were to stay here for as long as he was sick, who could tell how many days that would be? He needed to take his medic box, and the usual change of clothes, to be safe, his toiletries, and Laios himself insisted that he should take his lunch box as well. He spent thirty minutes or so packing his bag, and indeed, not much was left in his apartment afterwards. Now, seeing Laios massage his wrist, that felt like an awfully selfish choice. He vowed to recover from his sickness as soon as possible, so as not to take advantage of Laios' kindness for too long.

He walked in and closed the door behind him. It wasn't time to apologise for his behaviour yet. He wanted to formulate a proper apology for everything at once, and he would have a lot of time to think about it while he was lying in his sickbed. He considered writing a letter – indeed, that was the thought he'd been entertaining when he heard a knock on the door – and it still sounded like a good idea to get his thoughts down, at least. He suspected that Laios would prefer to have a conversation instead. He seemed like that kind of person. Kabru dreaded the thought of having a conversation about any of the things on his mind, but he felt that he could no longer avoid it.

“What do you wanna do?” Laios asked once Kabru went into the kitchen and sat at the table. He was standing by the stove, stirring the contents of a large pot that, as far as Kabru could tell through his stuffy nose, smelled amazing. That must have been the chicken soup he'd prepared for him before he left. Something inside Kabru's stomach stirred – a painful reminder that he hadn't eaten anything today, and frankly couldn't remember when he last ate anything. He definitely had a piece of cake at Daya's wedding, which he ate slowly, piece by piece, seated in the corner. He sampled some other treats at the wedding, but they weren't really proper meals. Yesterday, he opened the lunch box Laios gifted him and ate some of the contents, but that wasn't a meal either. It was just something to tide him over. When did his body get used to eating warm, homemade meals? Spoiled. Selfish. “The soup's okay to eat, but we can give it more time, too, if you're not hungry yet. You can take a bath or unpack, or take a nap,” Laios went on, “or we can just sit and talk for now.”

Kabru's blood ran cold at the thought of sitting and talking now. No, no. He'd already said more than enough. He shook his head lightly and forced himself to smile. “Um,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table, “I wouldn't mind eating right now, actually. That smells so delicious, I've been hungry since I set foot in here.”

Laios glanced back at him over his shoulder. “Okay. Then I'll boil you some noodles,” he said, and filled another, smaller pot with water before putting it on the stove. He tossed in a pinch of salt as it came to a boil and rummaged through the pantry in search of the right kind of noodles for the soup. Kabru watched him with curiosity and respect. Laios really seemed to know what he was doing in the kitchen. It was an enviable skill, one that Kabru never had an opportunity to learn. Milsiril couldn't cook, so it wasn't one of the skills she could pass onto him, and it never occurred to either of them that he could learn it from somebody else, the way he did world history, astronomy, and sociology. He'd lived by himself since, and didn't have time to learn on his own, nor did it feel like something worth studying. Instant noodles were a perfectly good solution – or so it seemed until now. The noodles that came out of that pot looked so much better than what he was used to. Perhaps it was a useful skill, after all, but it was probably too late for him to pick it up.

“Are you going,” he asked, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand as he watched Laios strain the noodles in the sink, careful not to pour them out accidentally, “to eat with me?”

Laios froze for a moment. He put the noodles aside and patted his stomach, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. Finally he gave a nod. “Yeah, I'm pretty hungry.” He looked into the large pot and stirred the contents. “Uhhh… do you want some of the meat, too? There's some chicken wings, a chicken leg, and a turkey wing.”

“Turkey?” Kabru echoed unthinkingly. “I thought it was going to be just chicken,” he murmured, stroking his chin, and for a moment he frowned. Truly, he didn't know the first thing about cooking. His own ignorance embarrassed him. To cover it up, he laughed softly, as if it were a joke all along. “No, thank you. The soup should be enough for now.”

“Okay,” Laios said, pulling out two bowls. He transferred the noodles into them using a tablespoon. Then he picked up a ladle and hovered above the pot. “I guess I'll leave the meat in for now to get a little more flavour out of it,” he hummed to himself, tapping his chin with the ladle. Clearly satisfied with his idea, he dipped the ladle into the pot and poured the soup into the bowls. The smell was now so strong that Kabru felt himself salivating, and had to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

Laios set the bowls down on the table, one for him and one for Kabru, along with a tablespoon for each of them – he took the one that he had used for the noodles – and finally sat down beside him. Kabru clasped his hands together in gratitude and looked inside the bowl. The soup was golden in colour, almost exactly like Laios’ eyes, a pleasant, warm colour. It was very clear, nearly perfectly transparent, with bubbles of fat floating on the surface. Its clarity and simplicity was deceptive, though. As soon as he put a spoonful in his mouth, he was shocked to discover just how flavourful it was. He could taste the meat and the vegetables, their flavours melting together into something very salty and surprising sweet. The noodles felt soft, but not overcooked. He took another spoonful, and another, letting the warm liquid slowly pour down his throat. Before he knew it, the bowl was empty and, much to his surprise and embarrassment, he found that he was still hungry. He sheepishly looked at Laios, who had been watching him in awe. He still wasn't done with his portion.

“Wow, you really were hungry, huh?” he remarked, his eyes twinkling. “Do you want more? There's a lot left, and I can always add water to make more.”

“Please,” Kabru murmured, bowing his head. “It's delicious.”

“Right?” Laios said as he picked up Kabru’s bowl and brought it over to the stove. He once again filled it with noodles and poured soup over them. “When I was little, we had this soup every Sunday. And when I was sick,” he went on as he brought Kabru back the filled bowl, “my mom always made it for me, and it made me feel better. I figured since you're sick, it might help you too.” He blew on a spoonful of soup and put it in his mouth. “I guess it stuck with me. When I picked up cooking a while ago, it was the first thing I wanted to figure out how to make. It didn't come out right the first few times, but I kept trying until I got it.” He ate another spoonful. “Falin said she could ask mom about it but I wanted to figure it out on my own.”

Kabru smiled fondly, looking down at his spoon. “I see. If it tasted just as good as this, then I can't fault you for thinking about it after all those years,” he hummed, and idly stirred the soup with his spoon. “There's something special about recipes from our childhoods, isn't there? I recall that when I was little,” he mused, and the corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke, “my mom would make lamb stew for me all the time. It was my favourite.”

“Lamb stew?” Laios furrowed his brow. “Huh. I've never heard of that.” Suddenly his face lit up as he leaned towards Kabru. “Maybe one day you can show me how to make it! I like learning new recipes.”

Kabru hid his mouth behind his hand. “Haha, maybe…” he said, and filled his mouth with soup and noodles. He cursed himself for having said anything at all. He was far too exhausted to effectively hide his emotional state, and the last thing he needed was to break down in front of Laios again. Making lamb stew? Would he even remember how? Would it taste the same as he remembered it? Would he know what to adjust if he didn't? He couldn't exactly ask his mom for help. All that was left was his memory of it. What would it mean if it was faulty? If he couldn't unearth the exact recipe? He swallowed the soup and gritted his teeth, trying to regain composure.

Once Laios saw that his bowl was empty, he perked up again. “Ah, do you want more?”

“I do,” Kabru admitted, pushing the bowl away, “but I really shouldn't, or else I might explode. No, for now, thank you for the meal. It was wonderful.”

“Okay,” Laios said, and swallowed the rest of his soup. “I'll leave it on the stove for now, so if you want more, just say so. And there should be enough for tomorrow and the day after, too.” He looked straight at Kabru as he put his hands on his knees. “What do you wanna do now?”

Why are you asking me like that? Kabru wanted to ask, but an explanation occurred to him almost immediately. Until now, they had a more or less established routine. They would go to class, come home and eat dinner. Then Kabru would pose for Laios in his bedroom, and things escalated in a predictable way from there. Then they would take a bath and talk until they fell asleep. But today they missed class, and it was reasonable to assume that Laios wasn't going to ask Kabru to pose for him while he was sick, let alone put his hands on him. Laios didn't know where to proceed from there and, as always when he wasn't sure of something, he deferred to Kabru. And admittedly, without that familiar routine, Kabru found himself lost as well. What did he want to do? He didn't think that far. He just wanted to be here, rather than in his own apartment.

“Umm…” he hummed, stroking his bottom lip, “I suppose I could take a bath, if you don't mind.” It couldn't hurt, at least. His body sought warmth above all else right now. Warmth from the inside, thanks to the soup, and warmth from the outside, whether from the bath, or a blanket, or Laios’ body. Besides, he felt quite sore. Yes, a bath sounded like a good idea.

“I don't mind, I'll go after you,” Laios said, picking up the bowls as he stood up. He put them away in the sink and turned towards Kabru. “I'll set the water running. Are you gonna need me for anything? Washing your back or your hair or anything like that? Do you need help getting into the bathtub?”

Kabru grimaced. “No, thank you. I can do it myself,” he said, more harshly than he intended, and immediately he felt bad about his own cranky tone. He resented his sickness and the weakness it brought about. It reminded him of the helpless years of his childhood when Milsiril refused to let him do anything on his own, except breathing. She was always so scared that he would hurt himself somehow. It irritated him then, and the memory of it irritated him now. But it wasn't unfair to take it out on Laios, who was offering to help, but didn't insist on it. There was no indication that he wouldn't honour Kabru’s wishes. As an apology, Kabru sent him a soft smile. “I appreciate the offer. I want to do things on my own while I'm able. If I need your help, I will let you know. Thank you.”

With a nod, Laios disappeared in the bathroom. Kabru closed his eyes and listened to the sounds, the quiet scrubbing followed by the shower head rinsing the bathtub, and finally the comforting sound of running water. Laios came out of the bathroom and nodded again. “The water should be good but, uh, check the temperature before you get in. I didn't know how warm you wanted it.”

Kabru got up from his seat and shuddered – an immediate reminder of how exhausting he was from the sickness. He squatted next to his bag, took his bathrobe and toiletries, and then proceeded to limp towards the bathroom. First he checked his reflection in the dirty mirror, and grimaced at what he saw. There was no doubt that he was sick, between his unnaturally shiny eyes, pale cheeks, and his dry, chapped lips. No wonder they sent him home from work. He was grateful that he cancelled his appearance in the live drawing class as well. Nobody should see him in this state, especially not if they were to look closely at him. With a sigh, he turned away from the mirror.

He checked the temperature with his toes. It was exactly what he needed. Warm, so warm that it felt like it would boil the sickness out of him and leave him a new man, with clear sinuses and eyes that weren't the least bit itchy. He sat in the bathtub and leaned back, closing his eyes. His dream was shattered immediately when, as if on cue, his nose started dripping. Annoyed, he washed his face with both of his hands. This was good, he tried to convince himself. It meant that he was clearing his sinuses. Wonderful. It was hard to think of it this way, though.

He stepped out of the bathtub some time later and wrapped himself up tightly in his bathrobe. This didn't prevent a series of powerful sneezes which threw his body back towards the bathtub and nearly knocked him over. How come, he thought, rubbing his thigh, that sneezing could make him pull a completely unrelated muscle? Heaving a sigh, he came out of the bathroom and tiptoed towards Laios’ bedroom.

He wasn't sure how much time he spent in the bathtub, but it must have been more than enough to give Laios time to drag his bag from the hallway to the bedroom, placed near the bed but placed in such a spot that nobody would trip over it if they suddenly got up. The bed was made, with an extra blanket prepared on top of the regular one. Laios himself was lying in bed with a book in his hands, but he put it down when Kabru came in and sat up on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” he said, eyeing Kabru curiously. “How are you feeling?”

“Well,” Kabru said, hugging himself inside the bathrobe, “I’ve been better, I suppose.” He giggled, shaking his head lightly. “But I'm not dying either, which is a positive, I would say.”

“That's good,” Laios said, letting out a sigh. “Are you gonna sleep already?”

“I don't think so,” Kabru said, “but I might need to lie down.” Despite his best efforts, he couldn't keep his legs from shaking. Laios noticed it when he looked down, and immediately got up from the bed, gesturing at Kabru to come over.

“Okay. The bed is yours. I'm gonna take a bath. If you fall asleep, that's okay. I'll try to be quiet when I come back. I'll just have to roll out the sleeping bag–”

“Wait,” Kabru said, grabbing his arm. “What do you mean? Sleeping bag?” He knitted his eyebrows. “I won't let you give up your bed for my sake and sleep on the floor.”

“I mean, it's fine,” Laios said, not looking at him. “You're sick, so I can't make you sleep on the floor. I don't mind. I used to sleep on the floor all the time. Take the bed and don't worry about me.”

Kabru shook him by the shoulder. “I won't allow that! It was awfully kind of you to let me stay over while I'm sick” he said, his voice cracking, “but I can't let you do something like this for my sake. I'm an intruder.”

“You're not an intruder,” Laios said calmly, “you're…” he visibly hesitated, furrowing his brow, “a guest. I can't make you sleep on the floor.”

“Then sleep with me on the bed, like you always do!” Kabru insisted. “It's just a cold. I'm not contagious, if that's what you're worried about. I'll keep my distance. I can even sleep in the feet of your bed, if that's what it takes. But I insist that you should sleep in your own bed.” How ridiculous it was that he even had to argue that!

Laios hesitated for a moment, but it was clear that he was running out of arguments. “Are you sure? It's gonna bother you if I have to get up when you're asleep. I don't wanna wake you up.”

“You won't.”

Laios scratched the back of his head. “Okay.” He seemed relieved that they reached this solution. If this was what he wanted all along, why did he choose to argue against it? This was the second time he did this kind of thing today. Kabru huffed with frustration. “By the way,” Laios prompted, looking down at his bathrobe, “do you have pyjamas or something like that?”

Kabru stared at him wide-eyed. “No, I don't,” he said, laughing. “I never needed them. Most nights, I kick off my sheets because I feel too warm.” This was never a problem here, though. Laios was always warm, especially in his sleep, and Kabru craved that warmth, wanting to cling to him while he slept.

“You can't sleep naked when you're sick,” Laios murmured, scratching his cheek. Kabru wanted to argue that he wouldn't be sleeping naked, but it didn't seem like it would make a difference. “You shouldn't wear something like a sweater, that's gonna be really uncomfortable to sleep in,” he went on, “but sleeping in a shirt might not be warm enough… Ah, I guess you can borrow mine. They're pretty big, so they should keep you warm.”

A smile danced on Kabru’s lips. “You want me to borrow one of your shirts?”

“Yeah. Just to sleep in,” Laios clarified. “You can take whichever one you want. I'm gonna go take a bath now,” he said, and left the room. Kabru immediately took off his bathrobe and threw it on the chair.

Kabru knew where Laios kept his shirts. He kneeled by the suitcase under the desk and looked inside. Laios didn't have a lot of clothes to choose from, but they were all pretty unique. He touched each of the shirts, examining the fabrics and textures. They all seemed really comfortable to wear. Breathable, but not thin. Finally he settled on the shirt with Godzilla on it. Laios wore this one a lot. He must have been very fond of it. The shirt smelled like him, too. Kabru sniffed it before he put it on, and once he did, he couldn't help but laugh. The shirt was so big on him that it almost reached down to his knees, and the sleeves went down to his elbows. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Giggling to himself, Kabru slipped under the blanket and closed his eyes. With a smile on his face, he hugged himself.

By the time Laios came back, Kabru was dozing off, on the verge of losing consciousness. The only thing that kept him tethered to reality was waiting for the other body to fill the empty space beside him on the bed, big and warm and comforting. Once Laios settled into his side of the bed, quietly so as not to disturb him, Kabru buried his face against his shoulder and fell asleep immediately.