[Log] Shades of Grey Who: Kamizuki Izumo, Balfour Vallet When: October 13th Where: Izumo’s room What: Izumo wakes up with a hangover an Balfour hovers almost incessantly. Secrets are shared. Warnings: Izumo. Balfour. Idiocy. Hangovers. Alcohol. Vomiting. Open or Closed: Closed Observable: No
Izumo woke up slowly. The sunshine slanting in the window was late afternoon. Izumo blinked. His eyeballs felt scratchy and his head had a heavy thick feeling that he knew was going to explode as soon as he moved. His heart was thudding, running fast, and he felt sweaty and warm. Ugh. He lifted his head slowly, gritting his teeth against the surge of pain and nausea.
The quiet groan he didn't even hear himself make was muffled as he clenched his teeth, stomach roiling.
Balfour had been sleeping with his head cradled on the mattress, right leg going to sleep where it was pinned under him, the bottle of whiskey having been moved to the table sometime between Izumo and Balfour falling asleep. Unfortunately, he was sleeping rather lightly, so Izumo's movements had him blinking awake, rubbing at one eye as he yawned, and shifting to get his weight off his numb leg.
"Izumo?" he whispered, concerned. He'd heard the groan.
Izumo held very still, breathing in tiny shallow breaths, swallowing dryly against the feeling of illness. He reached up to press a hand over his mouth and the aches all over made him feel sicker still.
His hand was shaking. Hard. Izumo open his eyes and stared blankly for a moment. Dismay set in hard when his fingers jerked and his lips pulled.
"Fuck," he managed, voice a dry rasp, and threw up.
At least he managed to get his head over the side of the bed. He sagged there, whimpering, twitching in the face of the pain and nausea.
Balfour dodged back, avoiding the sick, but then immediately stroked his fingers along the messy bits of Izumo's hair, careful, comforting. He said nothing as he rose to get the trash bin, putting a new bag in it, and then disappeared for something to clean up the mess. He didn't even frown, grimace, or gag as he cleaned it.
"Want something for the nausea?" he asked, realizing he should have brought a glass of water, too.
Balfour touching him felt like it should hurt, but it didn't exactly and Izumo bit down on a noise. Shakes. Pain. Sick. Bad. Gods, meds his meds when had he last taken his meds? His head was agony and every joint throbbed in time to his racing heart.
He retched, threw up again, gasped for breath.
"F-fuck. Meds. The...the bottle...closet shelf. Back left." He tried to lick his lips, swallow. Too dry. He struggled to get up but his hands kept trying to twitch instead. "H-hurry."
Already too late but the sooner it was back in his system oh the quicker it would be over.
Balfour frowned deeply, but only nodded, heading over to the closet to get the medication that Izumo so desperately needed. He glanced at the bottle only once, wondering what it was for, but the label gave no indication as to why Izumo was taking it, and he wasn't going to ask.
Not at the moment, anyway.
"Here," he said, handing it to him, glancing to the glass on the desk, the empty tea pot. "I'm going to get some water. I'll be right back."
Izumo hissed. "Oh fuck open it you - ah!"
He bit his own tongue and raised a shaking hand to clutch at his head. "Can't! One pill," he spat, trying to level his breathing. Too fast, like his heart, his chest was starting to hurt and feel tight and oh gods he didn't need a panic attack now!
Balfour's frown only deepened as he sat down beside him and opened the bottle, one pill resting in his upturned palm after he'd gotten it out of the bottle. His hands shook a little, but his mind was absolutely blank.
Something was wrong with Izumo. That was his whole focus at the moment, the fact that his friend was sick or hurt or...something.
Izumo got onto an elbow and braced, breath too fast, eyes just a little too wide, and his hand shook almost too hard for him to grab the stupid pill. He worked his mouth, trying to get up enough spit to swallow the damn thing with: too dry oh his chest hurt he ached all over he was going to be sick again oh gods. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe.
Balfour moved to check the teapot that he’d thought was empty, glad to find that there was a little water in there, probably a quarter glass’ worth, and poured it into the cup that was sitting there.
“Here,” he said softly, gripping the glass tightly to hide the tremors. He couldn’t shake right now, couldn’t panic.
What the hell was going on?
He couldn’t ask that question either.
Izumo opened his eyes, put the pill on his tongue, and grabbed clumsily for the glass, pulling it closer. Two awkward sips and he simply dropped limp against the bed, curling tight around his pillow and whimpering, teeth clenched. Not throwing up not throwing up not throwing up he needed that pill dammit. His chest ached felt too tight and he couldn’t breathe and oh gods he wanted to be sick he hurt he hurt.
Balfour sat silently on the bed, watching him as he curled around the pillow, moving the trash bin out of the way a bit that way it wasn’t knocked over. He could clean it out later.
Balfour shifted and Izumo groaned. He lifted his head and held up his hand. “If I...don’t stop...shaking...in an...hour....give me...another.” Ramping up the dose was definitely not recommended but sometimes it helped and with a stab of panic Izumo realized again he didn’t know when his last dose had been. He buried his face in his pillow and tried not to hyperventilate.
Moving the bed was bad. Okay. Balfour stood slowly when Izumo lifted his head and hand, nodding at him a little as he sank down onto the floor so as not to jostle him too much.
“Okay, no problem,” he said softly, nodding a little. He hoped that Izumo did stop shaking before that hour was up, but he would still do as he was asked if he hadn’t.
Izumo tried to slow his breathing down. He tried.
He ended up passing out anyway.
His body kicked itself back into a more normal rhythm, a little fast to keep up with his heart. Twitching, he lay against the pillow, heavily unconscious which drifted into something like sleep. The minutes ticked by, and his breathing slowed. The twitches began to subside.
By the time Izumo lifted his head again, it had been a little more than an hour. He held up a hand. The tremors were back to normal, tiny little shakes only noticable when he held his hand out like that.
He was still feeling awful sick but his heart didn’t feel like it was trying to pound out of his chest anymore.
Izumo laid his head back down and pressed his sore and bitten tongue against his teeth.
When Izumo passed out, sliding from unconsciousness to sleep, Balfour slipped out of the room to get a large jug of water--just in case--and to clean the trash bin out. That took maybe fifteen minutes, if that, and then he was back in his room, eyes on the slumbering form on the bed as he picked up and neatened the room, not moving anything important, just taking his clothing and putting it by the door, putting Izumo’s in the hamper.
Anything to keep himself busy, but close by.
When the other male finally started to wake, he stopped what he was doing, which was basically pulling his gloves off and putting them back on. He rose from where he had been sitting on the floor in front of the bedside table, the spot he’d claimed over the day, biting his lip as he knelt there carefully not touching the bed.
“Izumo...?”
“Nnnfffk,” Izumo muttered, and licked at his dry lips. He coughed. “Ow,” he croaked. “Fuck.”
“I understand that sentiment,” Balfour said quietly, shaking his head as he rose to get Izumo a huge glass of water, coming back with it to sit down carefully on the edge of his bed.
“Here, this should help.”
He’d take that as a ‘no’ on the feeling-better question. It would have been foolish to ask.
“Gods.” Izumo started edging his way up on an elbow. He leaned over and sipped at the glass in Balfour’s hand, not trying to take it himself. He coughed, cleared his throat, and took a few more sips.
“Nothing more fun than a hangover on top of godsdamned withdrawals,” he croaked, unhappily, eyes nearly shut. His head was throbbing in a deep relentless ache.
Balfour allowed Izumo to control the glass while supporting it, himself. It was a better use of his hands than twisting at his gloves.
He didn’t know what to say, though, about the hangover on top of withdrawals, just offered a tiny, worried smile.
“I can imagine. Looked like you were going through hell.”
Izumo took a deeper, shaky breath, and eased himself back down. “Ow.”
He lay limply on the bed, eyes closed, brow furrowed in pain and fine lines bracketing his mouth. Without his henge every scar showed, and the age he bore lightly; years of hard living and weather. Now he really did look twenty-five and some. He felt like a rag twisted up and shook out again - his body ached all over in a diffuse veil of pain and his head was making it hard to think.
“Don’t gotta stay,” he muttered.
“I know,” he said softly, putting the glass on the table and allowing his fingers to touch the back of Izumo’s hand, feather-light, aware of the fact that he was sore. “I know I don’t, but I want to.”
He wasn’t much use, didn’t know how to help, but just being there was enough to settle his nerves slightly. At least he could see Izumo, know that he was alive, no matter how sick he was at the moment.
He wasn’t going to leave. That would just be wrong and a terrible thing for a friend to do--at least, that was how he saw it.
Izumo just breathed for a few minutes. "Nnn. Should eat." He was trying to tink. "An' need...juice." Water was good but it was harsh on an empty stomach. And Izumo needed the sugars right now to really get functioning again. "Rice."
"Okay," he murmured, frowning deeply. "Okay. Riceballs sound good? I have some already made." The juice he'd have go to the cafeteria for, but the riceballs were in his room.
"Mmm. Rice congee?" Izumo asked, hopefully, and swallowed. Ugh. Yeah, feeling sick. It didn't occur to him that Balfour would probably have no idea what rice congee was. He wiped his sticky forehead against the pillow and groaned. His head still hurt.
Balfour frowned. "I have no idea what that is," he said softly. Sure, he could probably ask the drones, but that wasn't the same as home-made food. He slipped away after a moment to wet a rag, wring it out, and then carefully place it on Izumo's forehead, fingers brushing against his hair.
"Is it okay if I ask a drone? Otherwise I'm going to have to look for a recipe."
"Nnn, cold," Izumo protested, turning his face away. Well, not so much cold as wet and Izumo didn't like it. Balfour-made or drone-made, it wouldn't really matter to Izumo. He would eat it anyway.
"Alright," he murmured, removing the rag, but not before swiping it once over his forehead to remove some of the sticky sweat. It was then hung over the now-clean trashbin, and Balfour rose, touching the pillow beside the left side of his face.
Then he went to ask a drone for some rice congee, getting apple and orange juice while he was there, unsure as to which Izumo would want. It took longer than he would have liked, but he was soon back in Izumo's room with the apparently-a-soup rice congee.
Izumo had fallen into a doze, sleeping lightly and fitfully. Balfour coming back in woke hom, and he groaned softly as full awareness of the headache came back. Hung-over and a few sips pf water hadn't helped.
"I have your soup," Balfour said softly as Izumo squirmed, putting the two bottles of juice on the desk. "I wasn't sure which juice you wanted, so I brought both."
He handed the tray with the rice congee to Izumo, spoon already in the bowl.
Izumo lifted his head a little. "Mmmph," he managed, hazily, and started sitting up. It was a slow process, and his head hurt so bad. He whimpered as he finally gained an upright position, and clutched at his poor, poor head.
Balfour sat quietly, watching him for a moment before glancing to the bag still sitting pitifully abandoned on the floor by the bathroom door.
“Would medicine help?” he asked softly.
“No?” Izumo had never tried it. He reached for the bowl of rice congee and took a careful bite. It was good and he whimpered a little. He hadn’t realized he was hungry, what with feeling sick..... He ate slowly, gingerly, judging whether or not he was going to throw up again. He didn’t want to, it wasn’t fun and it hurt his head.
“I had a drone make it,” Balfour admitted softly, going to get some of the purchased headache pills. He’d been wanting to find the difference between the pills and the salve he had to apply to his temples, but he’d never had the opportunity.
He had the feeling that come tomorrow, he would.
“Would you like to try? You never know...”
“Mmm. No. Don’t wanna be sick.” Izumo ate another few bites. “Hungover. Dehydrated.”
Pain then was not the problem, except he was going to be sore for at least another day. Damn withdrawals. He closed his eyes as his head throbbed harder for a few beats. Ow. He drew patterns in his soup with the spoon, ate another bite.
Balfour nodded, reaching over to touch his knee before getting up to pour a glass of orange juice, hoping that it would help and that it would taste good with the soup.
“You should drink, then.”
He wished he’d pushed more water on Izumo while he’d been awake the last time, but he’d been so miserable that it had been easier to just let him have his way.
“Thanks.” Izumo handed the soup over before he took the glass. He felt like his eyes didn’t want to focus right, all scratchy and gunky. “Ugh.” He sipped the juice, carefully. He felt trembly and tired and achy and pretty much like shit scraped off someone’s shoe. He glanced at Balfour then patted the bed for him to sit down.
Balfour lowered himself to the bed, sitting on the edge, facing Izumo, his feet still on the floor, hands on his lap, gloved once more. He picked at the tip of the finger, twisting the glove there a little.
“It’s really no problem,” he said softly. At least he knew what the problem was, now, and might be able to help. He’d never really had to help with hangovers, nor had he had one himself.
At least books came in handy, here.
Izumo sipped the orange juice, though he would have liked something more tart. His stomach was still uneasy but it felt better. He looked at Balfour, then eyed the distance between them. He gave Balfour a pointed look.
Balfour blinked at Izumo, at the pointed look, clueless as to what he wanted.
“What?” he asked, his thumb twitching slightly. He wasn’t being very observant at the moment, still trying to figure out what to do, which book he’d seen that hangover cure in, what it had said to do.
“Did you have to sit so far away?” Izumo whined, sulkily, and sipped his juice.
“Oh. I just...wasn’t sure you wanted to be touched,” he said softly, shifting to sit by him, still a little bit on edge. “You...you were hurting earlier, so I didn’t know.”
It was clear that the fact that Izumo had been hurting was what was bothering him, especially the way his whole face pinched when he spoke of it.
“Are you okay now, other than your head?” Which could be solved by liquids, that much he knew.
Izumo shifted carefully and leaned shoulder-to-shoulder with Balfour. “Yeah. Should be.” He sipped his juice and tried to calculate times. After a few minutes he gave up. He could not think clearly enough yet to figure out when his next dose was due.
Balfour smiled at the contact, relaxing slightly against him.
“Good, I’m glad,” he said softly, knuckles brushing his friend’s thigh.
“Mmm. Thanks.” Izumo eyed the juice, and took another sip. He was getting full, or at least comfortable with his stomach. Maybe the nausea would go away. He closed his eyes and reached up to hold his head.
“You should probably lay down a little,” Balfour said softly, turning to him as he held his head, reaching for the glass to hold so that Izumo could shift.
“More like a lot.” Izumo felt the glass moved and let Balfour take it. He shifted, laid down again and curled around his pillow. Ow. He waited to feel what Balfour was going to do.
Balfour took the glass, putting it on the table as well, and then shifted in the bed, laying down with Izumo, keeping his distance but still there. Yawning hugely, he curled his legs up slightly.
“Sleep well,” he said softly.
“Mmmph. Get closer, I’m col,” Izumo complained, muffled, into the pillow. He wasn’t actually cold but body-heat always made him feel better.
Balfour shifted closer when asked, draping his arm over Izumo’s waist, pressing his chest to the other male’s back, just getting comfortable like he would have slept at any other time, really. After a moment, he sighed, giving him a gentle squeeze.
“Better?”
Izumo just sighed, wriggled a little to get comfortable, and laid still. After a few minutes his head stopped pounding so badly. He slipped into a doze, breathing deeply against Balfour, cradled between flesh and pillow. It was a comfortable place to be, a good place to be, and he slept without dreams.
Balfour dozed off as well, happily snuggled close, his forehead resting right in the curve of Izumo’s neck where it reached his back, his arm around his friend’s waist. It was comfortable there, something that Balfour had, admittedly, gotten quite spoiled to.
He only slept about an hour before he began to stir again, blinking awake and moving his head out from the curve of Izumo’s neck, stretching his body as he pulled his arm back, rolling to his back.
The motion woke Izumo and he automatically shifted to fit himself against the body...Balfour. Izumo rubbed at his aching eyes and laid his throbbing head on Balfour’s shoulder. “Ow.” It was a dull throb, a low ache, like the rest of him. He opened gritty eyes and stared up at the ceiling.
Balfour smiled a bit when Izumo shifted to lay his head on his shoulder, reaching over to touch his hand, his other arm wrapping around his waist again.
“Head still hurting?” he asked. “Need more to drink?”
“Yeah. Ow.” Izumo took a deeper breath and levered himself up. “Ffffuuuuuck,” he hissed, and reached for the orange juice. “Want any?” His head felt a little clearer.
“Nah,” he said softly, grabbing the orange juice and handing it to him after he sat up. “There. Feeling any better?”
He shifted, resting against the headboard again, rubbing his eyes a little bit. He was starting to get a headache, himself, but he wasn’t too worried about that. He’d lived with worse.
Izumo made a muffled noise into the glass. It echoed. He drained about half of it in one go. He leaned over gingerly and set it on the bedside table. He scooted closer to Balfour and nestled against him, tired and drained and achey. “Sorta.”
“Good, I’m glad,” he murmured, lowering his head a little to kiss Izumo on the top of the head, nuzzling just slightly. “No more throwing up?”
How he could need to go to the bathroom after being so dehydrated was truly beyond him but it was a fact. He groaned. He did not want to get up and he did not want to see how noodle-like his legs would be or how much it would hurt.
Balfour nodded a bit, shifting to sit up completely and get off the bed, taking that as a ‘let me up, I need to use the bathroom’ rather than a complaint at the fact that he had to get up.
His stomach growled. Well then. Then again, he hadn’t really eaten recently.
“You go do that and I’m going to grab something to eat.”
Izumo started towards the edge of the bed in a strange shuffling wriggle, moving along slowly. He did not try to sit up again but instead oozed over the side of the bed feet-first and ended up sitting on the floor. Bracing his hands on the bed, he pulled his legs into a kneeling position, then began to work his way upright in slow stages. His head was pounding and black spots danced in his vision. If he did this slowly enough he would not pass out.
Too fast. He plunked back down to sitting, face gone pale, and he blinked rapidly at the darkness scudding across his vision.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Shit. Why didn’t you say something,” Balfour suddenly growled, kneeling by the bed with Izumo, hand clasping his elbow gently. “You want help?”
He felt a little bit awkward asking if Izumo needed help, but he had a feeling the other male wouldn’t ask if he didn’t.
“ ‘M alright,” Izumo answered, a bit hazily. “Blood-pressure.” He took a deep breath and began the slow process again. That was the sucky side-effect of his meds, aside from getting sleepy right after he took them. This time he made it to his feet without incident.
“Go eat.” He flapped a hand at Balfour, blindly.
Balfour hovered for a couple more seconds, staying right there with him as he got to his feet. He’d been right about Izumo asking for help, but he knew that he’d done the right thing by offering anyway.
It was only once Izumo was stable for more than ten seconds that he nodded, rubbing at the back of his head.
“I’ll be back soon. Want anything else from the cafeteria?”
“Uh-uh.” Izumo did not shake his head, and started slowly for the bathroom, arms lightly outstretched for balance. He drifted his fingertips along the wall as soon as he reached it. Ouch, everything hurt all at once in a chorus of shouting pains. He grimaced and kept moving, slow and stiff and oh-so-careful of his poor delicate head.
Balfour watched him as he went to the bathroom, then disappeared down to the cafeteria for a sandwich or two. He didn’t take long to eat them, though, too concerned about his friend, and also slightly distracted in trying to remember which of his books he’d seen the hangover stuff in.
He made a pit stop by his room to sort through his books, digging the old one out that had the information he sought, then headed back to Izumo’s room, knocking gently at the door.
Izumo was sitting on the floor, eating the cold rice congee. He blinked. “Come in,” he called, fairly certain it was Balfour. It seemed like his knock. Izumo went back to eating the congealed soup, not minding in the least that he had to cut out his spoonfuls before eating them. The gelatinous texture had never bothered him. Rice porridge was an easy food to make, easier still because it was mostly water and could be made with only a little rice; Izumo had eaten a lot of it growing up because it was so easy and cheap to make.
Balfour smiled as he came in, going over to sit with Izumo, holding the book close to his chest, almost like a security blanket. It was clear that he had no idea what else to do, but seeing Izumo eating made him relax a little bit and put the thing down beside him.
“Is that any good?” he asked, nodding to the soup, allowing his head to tilt back a bit. Tired.
Izumo shot him a puzzled look. “I wouldn’t eat it if it wasn’t.”
Okay, so he’d eaten a lot of things most people wouldn’t quantify as ‘good.’ As long as it wasn’t too bad spoiled or burnt he’d probably eat it. But congee was good and he liked it. It was also easy on a sick stomach. He ate a few more bites and drank the last of the orange juice with it. There. He sighed and sat back. In a few minutes he’d attempt a shower. He was feeling nasty from sweating earlier.
He poked at Balfour’s book, idly.
“Eh, true,” he said softly, blinking over at him as the book was poked at. “Mm, future reference. It has a lot of ‘home’ remedies in it and I thought I’d seen a hangover cure in it. Just wanted to see if this was the right book.”
“Hair of the dog,” Izumo answered, promptly. “And crackers. Unless you want to be healthy then it’s water or juice and crackers.” He preferred the whiskey: made him not care as much that his head was killing him.
Funny, he’d never gotten hangovers until he’d been on medication.
He eyed Balfour. “And the answer is never greasy eggs, or greasy anything, unless you want to see your victim throw up.”
Balfour made note of the words, but Izumo’s choice of them made him laugh softly, rubbing at his face a little.
“Victim, huh? Why not ‘patient’?”
As if Balfour were the type to have victims at all. Izumo knew that, and Balfour knew he did. Even so, the phrasing was just amazing.
“So you’re my ‘victim’?”
“Hey. Doctors never perform medicine. They practise it. Victims it is.” Izumo snorted a little, and leaned against Balfour’s shoulder amiably. He was feeling better, though the headache was still vaguely there. He felt about as flat as the rugs, though, and tired.
“I’m not a doctor,” Balfour said with a smirk. “I’m a healer. Very little difference, there, but a difference all the same.” Namely that healers specialized in healing, not in surgeries or anything of the sort. Those were called ‘medics’ in his world.
He sighed and shifted closer when Izumo leaned against his shoulder, barely managing to stifle a yawn as he put his face in dark hair once more. Sleep was a thing that needed to happen, and soon, but then that was just his body getting spoiled to this place.
“I’ve been meaning to ask...what the hell?” He shifted, rubbing at his face a little, yawned again. “I mean...you know, that thing with me, you, and Genma. Why?”
“Why not?” Izumo returned, after a moment. He’d expected some reaction, certainly, but asking why? Well, it had been fun, hadn’t it?
“I don’t know why not,” he said, frowning a little. He had, after all, made it rather clear that he wasn’t into exhibition; however, he had gone right along with Izumo’s game. “Actually...I suppose it’s better that you did, you know...?”
He was a little reluctant to admit that he had wanted to sleep with Genma, but he figured that Izumo had already known.
“It was a...different experience.”
Probably not something he would do again, though.
“And you enjoyed it,” Izumo observed, somewhat smugly. Oh yes, he was pretty sure Genma and Balfour had enjoyed themselves greatly. After all, he’d watched! And enjoyed himself, too, but that had been an added bonus.
“Admittedly, yes,” he said softly, giving a one-shouldered shrug, not moving the shoulder that Izumo was laying on. “But then, I have a feeling you had that planned.”
“Nope. That would mean I thought of it before you came in. Which I hadn’t.”
He’d thought of it after Balfour had come in but that hadn’t exactly been planning, that had been hey see if I can do this and it had been done and it had worked out beautifully. “Why? You upset? Regretting it?”
“No. I actually enjoyed myself. I was just wondering why you did it, is all,” he said softly, pulling a knee up, shifting his weight. “Really, I was wondering if you had known that...”
He frowned, rubbed a hand over his face again, then shook his head. Nothing to be guilty or shy about. He and Izumo were friends-with-benefits and clearly Izumo didn’t care if he slept with someone else--the man had watched them, for heaven’s sake!
“I was wondering if you had known that I wanted to, ah...do such things with Genma, if you had planned that beforehand, you know? I’m not mad.”
No, how could he be mad? He had gotten something he had wanted and hadn’t deemed possible.
“Well, no. I knew you’d kissed him. I figured I’d just start something.” Izumo shrugged. “A little fun. No plans.” He sighed a little, and left out the idea that Balfour might become more attached to Genma instead of pining over Izumo, or that more experience for Balfour was a good thing, or that Genma really needed a good fuck-buddy and Balfour was sweet, trustworthy, and harmless as they came.
Just for fun, of course.
“Honestly, you think I can plan while thinking about sex?” he teased.
The answer was yes but Balfour didn’t need to know it.
“I wouldn’t call that ‘a little fun,’” Balfour said softly, glad that his head was above Izumo’s so that he could hide his smirk just a little bit better. Oh no, it wasn’t just a little fun. It was very fun, in truth, and he wouldn’t mind doing it again.
Well, the sex-with-Genma part of it, anyway, not the someone-watching-them part. That was just awkward.
“And yes, I think you can, actually, at least plan things about sex while thinking about sex.” He shrugged. “How else are you to plan sexy things?”
“Before I start, not while I’m in the middle of teasing Genma,” Izumo retorted, cheerfully.
“You sure you can’t just start thinking, oh, for example, how pretty a picture someone else kissing Genma would be?” he teased right back, just as cheerful as he grinned down at him. “And then, lo and behold, that someone shows up at your door and, well, perfect timing to put your evil plan in order?”
He couldn’t hold the serious face, though. He cracked up. He had no doubt that Izumo would be able to plot while teasing someone, but he didn’t think him cruel enough to--nor was Balfour vain enough to think that Izumo had--plot to get him and Genma together.
No, Izumo was just that comfortable with sex to set up a voyeuristic experience when the opportunity presented itself.
“Well, you enjoyed yourself, so that’s all that really matters,” Izumo decided, calmly. Then he smirked a little. “Gonna do it again?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe if he lets me. I didn’t much mind.”
But he knew as well as anything that Genma had only gone along with it because Izumo had been there. Balfour had used that--and felt somewhat guilty for it. He didn’t regret it, though.
It was hard to tell if he’d be permitted such intimacy again, especially without Izumo being there.
“I think if you asked nicely he wouldn’t say no,” Izumo informed him. With a sigh, Izumo wriggled his socked toes. He was feeling more like himself, though still very very tired.
“Who knows. I might try later,” he said, glancing at the suddenly wiggling toes. The foot that was still stretched out tilted over to bump the fuzzy-clad feet and he laughed again, quietly amused. Izumo was funny.
“Can I ask you something personal?” he asked after a couple moments’ silence.
“I suppose,” returned Izumo warily. That was never a good phrase to hear. Balfour could ask, but he didn’t have to promise an answer.
“Those medicines...would you mind telling me what they’re for?” he asked softly, leaning against him a little, a sign that he wasn’t going to suddenly stop being friends with Izumo when he found out. In for a penny, in for a pound, after all.
Izumo flinched and grimaced. Ugh. “Doctor stuff. It’s nothing.” Maybe...
Balfour frowned, uncomfortable being kept out of the loop, and shifted, pressing a kiss to Izumo’s temple.
“Can you at least...I don’t know...how often do you have to take those?” He didn’t want Izumo to be quite as miserable as he had been earlier.
Izumo shoulders relaxed again. “Three times a day. Well, three times in a twenty-four hour day.” None of these crazy extra-long days. He made a slight face and sighed deeply. “If I miss more than two doses I have withdrawals. It won’t kill me but I’ll feel like shit for a while.”
So six times in one of these days, since the days in Pacis Urbs were twice as long as the ones at home, which were twenty-four hours. He nodded to himself and shifted, squeezing his arm back behind Izumo to wrap around his waist, giving him a gentle hug.
“Well, in case you didn’t notice, I don’t want you feeling like shit,” he said softly. “You had me worried there.”
“Yeah, withdrawals on top of hangovers on top of coming off a high...gods I’m stupid.” Izumo groaned and shifted so he fit perfectly against Balfour.
“Let’s not do that again,” Balfour said with a wry smirk, shifting to make himself a more comfortable pillow for his friend. “The, ah, withdrawal thing. Can’t say anything about the hangovers.”
“Dammit.” Izumo elbowed Balfour, but only lightly, annoyed at the situation and not the other man. But Balfour was conveniently in reach.
“Hey,” Balfour protested, shifting because he was elbowed, poking Izumo in the thigh. He knew that it wasn’t something personal, at least.
“Hmmph. Bet you give Genma more respect,” Izumo grumbled, but without heat. He yawned and let his head sag sideways onto Balfour’s shoulder.
“True, I do, but that’s because I don’t like him as much as I like you. You’re my friend. He’s just an acquaintance,” he said with a giggle, giving his waist a squeeze. “At least I only poked you for that jab.”
He sighed, getting comfortable, and as he shifted, his eyes caught the medicine bottle.
“Do you have any others?” he asked quietly.
Izumo blinked, startled by the nonsequitur. “What?”
“The medicines...” he muttered awkwardly, feeling weird about having asked, but, to him, it was important.
Izumo was silent a moment, stewing instead of sleepy. He bit his lip, grimaced, then nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.”
He reached up and back, and dug under a pillow. He pulled out a little pre-filled syringe, and showed it to Balfour. “Lorazepam, four milligrams, IV. Sedative. It’s...as needed.”
“Is that the stuff you gave me?” Balfour asked, frowning a little at the syringe. He slid closer to him, hugging him again. “Strong. Now I know where you got it.”
He laughed, filing that away as he pressed a kiss to Izumo’s cheek.
He didn’t seem too bothered about the fact that Izumo was on medicines.
“I just...don’t want to see you sick like you were before. That’s why I’m asking.”
“I gave you a baby dose. About a milligram,” Izumo retorted. He shifted and slipped the syringe back. “That won’t make me sick, it’s just when I need it.” He grimaced. “It’s...I...have panic attacks. Sometimes. So. I have that.”
“I’ll remember,” he said softly, more a promise than anything else. “And I must really be bad with medicine if a milligram could knock me out like that and you’re taking four? Then again, we really don’t have things like that back home.”
“Yeah. It’s a good sedative.” Izumo shrugged and shifted, tension humming through him.
It didn’t take Balfour very long to catch on to the tension. He pressed his face into Izumo’s hair and hugged him gently.
“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.
“Nothing.” Izumo shook his head. “I need a shower.”
He pushed away, climbing slowly to his feet.
Balfour wasn’t going to argue or comment on the shower remark, but he did get up at the same time Izumo did, hesitating for a moment before glancing at the door.
He’d said something wrong, done something to upset Izumo. He was sure of it.
He didn’t let on to that thinking, though, just took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.
“Ah...can I...join you?”
He didn’t look like he was expecting a ‘yes’.
“If you like,” Izumo answered, after a moment, sounding a little pale. He leaned against the wall briefly until he felt less like falling over. Ugh, he ached all over and his headache was better but still there. He was pretty sticky-yucky from being all sweaty, too, and that was the driving force of “getting clean.” Izumo didn’t really like feeling sticky unless he’d gotten something really damn good out of it. Right now? Yeah no.
"Thanks."
Well, Izumo wasn't too mad, whatever he had done. He smiled softly and just followed him, turning the water on to the cooler temperature that Izumo had had it set for last time, then undressed, folding his clothing on the bathroom sink.
Izumo twitched the knobs so they were just right and stepped into the spray. He stood there for a minute, hands up, fingers splayed, absorbing the warmth. Then he turned and let it wash over his shoulders. He tensed his shoulders, rolled them,dropped one low and then the other. He shrugged suddenly and made them both pop loudly. He sighed with the release of tension, and smoothly bent double to press his palms to the top of his feet. He straightened, turned, and braced his hands on his butt. He arched over backwards, sliding his hands down his thighs; he held the sharp arch, then came upright again with a deep sigh.
He slicked his hair back from his face, bi-eyes blank and quiet, face tired. Stretching had helped, hurt in a good way, but he still ached all over and his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He rubbed at his temples, fingertips dpressing hard, standing under the spray.
Balfour stepped in the shower with Izumo, standing back and watching calmly as he stretched. It made his mouth water to see all the bendy positions Izumo could get in, his mind opening up a whole slew of possibilities. His cheeks heated, but he shut those thoughts down. Now was not the time.
Instead, he grabbed a rag and the soap, brushing his fingers across the slick skin of his lover's shoulders to get his attention.
"Want me to get your back?"
"If you want." Izumo yawned suddenly and blinked, startled by it. He turned ad presented his back to Balfour, and reached up to rub at his own neck with both hands, fingers crossing over his spine.
Balfour gave him a little smile and began to wash his back, the hand not controlling the rag resting on Izumo's waist, just touching, keeping him aware of where his hands were. He did try hard not to spook Izumo, after all.
"Are you sure you don't want some of that headache medicine?" he asked again.
"I'm fine. Nothing more food and sleep won't cure," Izumo answered, wearily. He shifted and leaned back against Balfour, reaching out to pluck the rag from his hand, lazily washing his front.
Balfour sighed, dipping his head as his hands came to Izumo's shoulders, rubbing gently, beginning to massage. He wasn't that great at it all, but he figured it wouldn't hurt anything.
Izumo sighed and let his shoulders drop again, though when Balfour's fingers brushed over the raised scars on his shoulderblades he shivered. Those were pleasant scars, with pleasant memories; four on each side, slanted, like a lover had hooked in their nails and pulled....
Balfour continued to rub Izumo's shoulders, sighing quietly at the shiver, not quite sure what that reaction was. The fact that Izumo's shoulders had relaxed made Balfour more comfortable doing it though.
"How much will I have to pay you to get you to rub my feet?" Izumo wanted to know, reaching up to wash his hair.
"You don't have to pay me anything," he murmured. "Is it that good or do your feet just hurt that badly?"
"If you have to ask you've never had a foot-rub," Izumo told him, fervently, and scrubbed at his hair before lightly pushing Balfour out of the way and rinsing himself. He stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, to dry himself off.
"I'll be the first to admit that I haven't had a foot rub," he said with a shrug, rinsing off when Izumo got out, going after him after a second. "If its anything like a back rub, I'm sure it shouldn't be too hard."
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Izumo decided, confidently.
He started changing out his piercings for clean ones, starting with his top cartilage rings and moving down. He worked easily, fingers deft and practised. He used a spark of chakra to manage the CBRs.
Balfour calmly watched Izumo, curious, at first, about what he was doing, and then about how he was doing it. He liked watching Izumo do things, especially things he’d never seen before. He didn’t know much about piercings, after all, so it was always interesting to see someone work them.
“I suppose not, but that’s okay,” he said distractedly, mind somewhere other than the foot rubs that they had been talking about.
Izumo chuckled. “You want you some shinies?” he asked, as he screwed the top ball back on his apadravya piercing.
“Hmm?” He blinked at Izumo, processing the question, then shrugged and shook his head.
“Ah, honestly, I don’t know. I’ve just...never really known what goes in to caring for them. I was sort of staring there, wasn’t I...?”
He flushed, ducking his head, and muttered an apology. That was rude, after all.
“Well, you seem to like mine.” Izumo chuckled a little. “You don’t actually need to change them as often as I do. I just like things to be clean. All mine are long healed anyway.”
He shrugged.
“They look good on you. I’m sure I wouldn’t look good with...well...any piercing...”
He shifted awkwardly, glancing down at his feet. He wasn’t brave enough to get a genital piercing, nor was he sexy enough to get away with nipples. He didn’t want any on his ears.
That only left his tongue.
“Hey, it’s your preference.” Izumo shrugged, and turned, finished with his task. He headed for the bedroom again. “I liked the look, the idea, and the feel. And you can always take them out if you end up not liking them.” He paused, and eyed Balfour. “You might look nice with a lip-ring,” he decided, after a moment, and went into the bedroom.
Socks. He needed socks.
“I don’t know,” he said hesitantly, following him out as he bit at his lip, thinking for a moment. “I suppose you’re right about taking them out, but...I really don’t see myself getting away with it.”
But if they made things sensitive...
“Who’s to stop you?” Izumo wanted to know, as he dug through his sock drawer. Ah. The tall blue-and-neon-pink ones. He shut the drawer, sat on the bed, and tipped over backwards with his feet in the air to pull them on.
Balfour chuckled as Izumo tilted over to put on his long socks, perching himself on the bed next to him, a little bit more naked. Bare fingers played along the metal collar on his neck absentmindedly. So much had changed since he had come to this world--why not a piercing as well?
“Well, no one, really,” he said with a shrug, reaching out to touch Izumo’s ankle with his fingertips, nudging it down to his lap once the sock was on. He was going to make good on that foot rub thing. “It’s just...do you really think it’d look good on me? Because...I don’t know. I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around that.”
“Mmm. Give me an idea of what you want and I can give you an illusion of what it looks like.”
Illusion.
Fuck!
Izumo hands rose and in a lightning flicker his features shimmered. Both eyes were brown again, and his features smoothed.
Balfour decided to think on that, but when Izumo suddenly rose his hands and changed his appearance, any thoughts of piercings left his mind. He laid a hand on his thigh and sighed.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said softly. “It’s just us and I doubt anyone else is coming in at the moment. You don’t have to hide.”
But he wouldn’t ask him to take the illusion down. He understood the reasons for it, after all. Instead, he started on the massage, rubbing his foot gently and thoroughly.
Izumo flinched at the words, and pulled away, sitting up again. His stomach was clenched tight - Balfour had noticed had seen. He hunched his shoulders and said nothing, stubbornly.
Balfour blinked when Izumo pulled away, then smiled at him, slightly off-kilter and joking, but also unsure, nervous, even a little bit hurt--just a tiny bit.
“You know, if you cut off my feet, maybe I’d stop putting them in my mouth,” he quipped with a little snicker, shifting back on the bed. “I said something wrong again. I’m sorry. I just... You moved quite suddenly, so I glanced. I shouldn’t have said anything. I apologize.”
But he’d give anything to see those two different eyes again instead of the two brown ones. He quite liked being able to see that.
Izumo flinched again, looking away. “Stop. Just...stop.” Don’t talk about it, don’t mention it, it didn’t happen. Forget it.
Please just forget it.
Balfour froze, words going through his head, watching him, judging, carefulcarefulcareful. He had gone over a line and was trying, now, to find his way back to the other side, the safe side. He didn’t move for a long time, suddenly nervous, afraid that the wrong word, the wrong movement, would have Izumo angry and telling him to get out.
He didn’t want to go.
Finally, he remembered the conversation they had been having. He bit his lip where a piercing would be, then shrugged.
“Why don’t you show me what it’d look like with me having a lip piercing. I’m sure I’d look completely stupid, but we can laugh at it, anyway,” he said lightly, quietly. The humor was there, but barely.
Anything but topics about Izumo.
“Maybe some other time. I’m tired.” Izumo’s answer was short, and he shifted, turning to crawl further up on the bed, digging after the covers. He just...felt tired and hurt and he didn’t want to think anymore. Not at all. Waste of skin, bi-eyed freak! Not thinking.
Balfour sighed a little, shifting off of the bed for a second to get his underwear on and grab his gloves. He stopped, put them back down, and then sat down on the bed with Izumo again, leaning over to kiss his forehead, close to his hairline.
“May I stay?”
Izumo flinched away from the touch at his face. “Stop.”
He rolled over and pulled his head under the blanket. “Stay if ya want,” he added, muffled.
“Of course I want to.”
That was all he said as he climbed under the blankets with him, fingers barely brushing against his back. He wanted to say more, tell him foolish things about what he really thought of his true appearance, but he knew that it was a terrible idea.
He was lucky Izumo hadn’t kicked him out or gotten too angry.
Anyway, people got grumpy when they were sleepy, and Izumo had seemed so very tired in the shower. Best to let him rest.
Izumo fidgeted restlessly, uneasy and upset, for about ten minutes. Then he drifted off into sleep again, twitching and muttering often.
Balfour rested beside Izumo, not sleeping this time, just trying to get his thoughts in order. There were so many things that he wanted to know or say or talk about, but he was afraid of crossing that line again.
But then, it was important, some of it. At least the medicines. He would have to ask about that, at least.
So he shifted closer, just close enough to feel the warmth from Izumo's back, and waited until he woke.
Izumo slept restlessly; he didn't really need to sleep but he didn't want to talk or anything. He woke an hour later, startling awake with a violent jump, hands clutching at the sheets even as he snatched his head up. He shivered a moment, tense, before reality settled into place and he remembered. He sighed, and decided he needed to spend some time not with Balfour. He'd pick up that pretty little redhead, the new worker in the club, with her hazel eyes and high small breasts. She was a tasty little treat, flirty and promising but not so loose as to sleep with everyone.
Balfour sat up slowly when Izumo did, yawning slightly as he curled his legs up beside him. He'd been with Izumo practically all day and he really should go away. It would have been so easy to disappear while he was asleep, but that just wasn't fair.
He felt awkward, though, sitting next to him, and as he looked at him, he lost any courage to ask about the medications.
"Sleep well?" he asked instead.
Izumo shook his head, checked his henge, and only then glanced at Balfour. "Not really. How about you?" Tone quiet, pleasant. The headache was almost entirely gone and the aches would go away by tomorrow. He could pretend and play the right game now.
"I didn't sleep," he admitted softly, looking at Izumo, then back down at the blanket, twisting it between his fingers, picking at the loose threads. "It's alright, though, because I wasn't really tired."
He just didn't want to leave. He wanted to be close.
Balfour continued to nervously fidget with the blanket for a moment more before leaning forward quite suddenly to press a kiss on his lips. He didn't know what else to do other than that.
Izumo blinked, but returned the kiss gently. There, reassurance, right? And a little smile, just for Balfour. "Sorry. You don't have to wait on me, you know. You could go do something else."
Something felt wrong between them, but Balfour wasn't sure what. He shrugged a bit when he was told that he didn't have to wait on Izumo, reaching up to skate nervous fingers along his jaw, testing once more.
Some time in that, he finally found that courage that had wandered off when Izumo woke, and after another quick, fleeting kiss, he sat back and took a deep breath.
"What are the medicines for? I know you said doctor stuff...but it's important. To me." The desire to make sure that Izumo was okay, that he was taking care of himself, that bad things didn't happen when he didn't take his medicine, was there in his eyes.
Izumo tipped his head and nipped at Balfour's fingers, then lifted his face to be kissed. Playing the quiet easy lover normally made him feel good but right now he was just not in the mood for quiet.
And then Balfour asked again and Izumo wasn't in the mood for anything.
He turned away. "It's nothing," he grumped, short and sharp.
Balfour reached out, fingers slipping along his wrist, and for the first time in a while, it felt wrong to be touching him with bare hands. He flinched a little, fingers twitching against the skin, but he continued to touch him.
"It's not going to change anything by telling me, Izumo. I just want to know so that...just in case you miss a dose, you know? I don't want you to have to deal with the withdrawal again."
Though what knowing what it was for had anything to do with it was completely unclear. Balfour figured that it would cause signs of whatever was ailing his friend.
"I'm not going to tell anyone. It'll just be between us. Please."
Izumo grimaced, looked down at the bare hands, and brushed his own fingers across the back of Balfour's hand. Tell, not tell. Tell, not tell. Have Balfour digging, make him leave it alone. Izumo could do that by now, he thought. Push the right buttons and shut him down. It was too easy with the civilians.
"It's nothing. A dose won't matter and it's not like it'll kill me. Miss two and I'll feel like shit but I still won't die or anything."
"Izumo. What is it for?"
No, he wasn't going to let it go. His fingers twitched again when Izumo brushed his fingers across the back of his hand, but he didn't let go, didn't pull away, no matter how much he wanted to.
It was Izumo. Izumo was safe. He was just pouting.
Izumo's hands clenched, but not on Balfour's. Not hurting. "Dammit, Balfour!" he growled, glaring, all but daring the man to keep pushing.
Balfour"s head lowered slightly and he leaned closer, twitching and trembling hand loosening.
"I only ask because I care."
It didn't matter how hard he pushed, now. He'd ruined things by mentioning the illusion. He had nothing to lose--or so he told himself.
Izumo's face twitched before he dragged it under control. "Swear you won't tell a soul. Swear it!"
Balfour's hand finally moved, but only to brush his fingers along Izumo's wrist again, meeting his eyes steadily.
"I have never uttered a word of any of your secrets, nor anything that could be perceived as a secret. I give you my word on my honor that I will never tell anyone."
And he was serious. He never would tell anyone unless Izumo gave him the okay, not about anything he had been told.
"Swear it to me on what you honor most," Izumo insisted, voice hard.
On what he honored most... What was that? What meant the most, sure, he could point that out really quickly. It was his friendship with Izumo that meant the most to him, and he'd never intentionally screw the man over. Sure, he was stubborn and clingy and irritating--he knew that--but he would never screw him over.
His name meant nothing, nor did his family, especially not here, not now. His brother, trying to be his brother...that didn't matter anymore either, not now that no one knew him, not now that someone actually valued him for him.
His baby sister. She meant a lot, too. He worried about her so terribly, even now, even worlds away where there was nothing he could do.
"I don't know what to swear on," Balfour admitted softly. "I'm not even sure what you mean."
He frowned, shifting uncomfortably, looking at his bare hands. The one thing that he didn't do with anyone else, the one thing that was exclusively Izumo's.
"I swear on everything I hold dear--my sister, our friendship, my brother's gloves--everything that I will never tell anyone. Ever. I'll never tell your secrets."
"I'll find out if you don't," Izumo threatened quietly, meeting Balfour's gaze steadily before he looked away. "They...I've...you know how I told you not to move anything in my room? The meds keep me from freaking out that your clothes are on the wrong spot on the bathroom counter. It still bothers the hell out of me but I'm not pitching a fit. They also help with the panic attacks and the nightmares."
The glance he cut at Balfour was sharp, assessing. Happy now?
"Oh." It was soft, but completely understanding. He nodded and smiled a little bit. He would respect that little tendency to freak out if stuff was in the wrong spot, now that he knew, not that he moved anything anyway, unless it was something that Izumo wanted him to grab for him. "Okay. I understand."
And that would never come up in conversation, anyway, so there would never be a need to avoid the subject.
He leaned closer, squeezing his wrist gently.
"It's our secret, Izumo. I promise."
Izumo grumbled but didn't move from under Balfour's hand. He stared down at their hands, uneasy with having to part with his secret. It was something ugly, shameful.
Balfour smiled gently, leaning forward to kiss Izumo's cheek, giving his hand a squeeze. As he had said, that didn't change anything. He would respect it, sure, but he wouldn't bring it up again, nor would he tell anyone else.
Izumo grimaced and didn’t move. He didn’t...he wanted... It was a nasty situation and he didn’t like it and he wanted to go away. Make everything go away. Stop thinking about it stop thinking about Balfour why did his life always turn into such a godsdamned mess and for a moment he wanted very much to say something truly nasty to Balfour to make him shut up and go away.
Instead he just sat there. Sulking.
Balfour was quiet for a while, just sitting there with his fingers against Izumo’s wrist, eyes mostly closed. He was lost in his own thoughts, mostly unrelated thoughts of Genma, of the lie he was trying to tell there, whether or not he could truly pull off the trick he was playing, or if he would slip up and expose the fact that he did, indeed, have a brother.
He opened his eyes on that thought and looked down at his naked body, feeling slightly self-conscious.
“I”m going to go get dressed. I’m not as cool as you about running around naked,” he said with a laugh, getting up and going to get the clothes on, having already--seemingly--forgotten about the whole in-the-wrong-spot thing. The main reason he had gotten dressed, anyway, was because he didn’t like being naked. When he came back out of the bathroom, he rolled his shoulders, sighing in relief.
“Much better.”
Then he flopped down on the bed next to Izumo just as casually as before.
“Hey. I’m trying something with Genma, so if you’ll not mention Amery, that’d be great. I want to see how long I can keep it from him that I have a brother. Anyway, it’s not like anyone really needs to know about him.” He shrugged and grinned up at the ninja.
Izumo glanced at Balfour, briefly. Change of subject. He curled around his pillow and thought about not saying anything.
Curiosity won out after a minute.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. To see if I can, I guess?” he said with a shrug. The change of subject hadn’t exactly been on purpose. It was just something that had popped into his mind, so he let it flow. He had been considering telling Izumo his game anyway.
“It’s not that I like talking about him much, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. I was just wondering if, maybe, I could just...keep it from anyone else?”
He could keep other people’s secrets pretty well, after all. It was his own that he went blathering on about. It was an exercise in keeping his mouth shut about himself.
“....alright,” Izumo mused. It was a harmless secret. Well, maybe Balfour was trying to be more Balfour. An interesting step to take with Genma... A positive sign, maybe, that things were moving forward....aw fuck he was trying to be mad at Balfour and the bastard was distracting him from it.
Izumo glared at his pillow on principal.
“Anyway, I kind of like that you’re the only one who knows the details, really.” Itachi and Shisui also knew, but he was sure that they had forgotten. Balfour hadn’t mentioned it with them again, after all. Actually, he hadn’t seen Shisui since the boys both ended up in his bed.
If asked why he liked Izumo knowing the details, he wouldn’t be able to explain. He trusted Izumo, though. He’d trust him with his life.
“It’s just a test, you know? See how long I can get away with it. It’s nothing harmful, at least.”
If it were harmful--like before--he probably would have been more willing to talk about it. He was strange that way.
“That makes no sense. If you’re not gonna tell, then don’t tell,” Izumo retorted, puzzled by the wording. ’See how long,’ what kinda sense was that?
“Oh, but if I get caught, I’m not going to deny it,” he said softly, smiling over at Izumo, reaching his fingers out to bump against his thigh.
“...how in hell would you get caught if you’re not going to say anything?” Izumo demanded, shooting Balfour a bewildered glance.
Balfour laughed and shrugged. “I don’t know, but I might.”
Izumo gave Balfour a perfectly confused look. Really. What the fuck. That made no sense.
“I’m not that great at lying about myself,” he said with a shrug. “So far, I’ve just...not mentioned Amery. But I might on accident. Oh well. At least I’m better at other people’s secrets.”
“That’s not lying. That’s just not telling.” Izumo shook his head. “You’re confusing.”
“That might be why I’m better with other people’s secrets,” he said with a shrug, laughing as Izumo accused him of being confusing.
“Actually, I’m sort of confusing myself now.” He nudged him again, fingers lingering. His gloves were tucked in his back pocket instead of on his hands.
Izumo glanced at the bare hand, and squirmed, scowling, before he sighed and put his hand over Balfour’s. Ugh. He was tired again, the sort of angry-tired at the world that was just a dull knot of unhappiness and fretting. He wanted to go curl up in a tree and hear nothing but the wind through the leaves for hours on end until he stopped thinking.
Balfour smiled at the contact and closed his eyes, just allowing the silence to settle. He didn’t see a need to fill the silence with needless chatter, after all. He was more comfortable with Izumo than most, therefore there was no need to chatter.
The touch was nice, though. He found himself dozing off a couple times, mind sliding along unhindered, quite happy in the peace. Or, relative peace anyway. He didn’t think Izumo was mad at him anymore.