Chapter Text
Bachira woke up to a cold towel on his forehead and no memories from earlier. He sat up, stretching his arms out and laughing.
And then he looks over and sees Isagi, curled up into a ball right next to his bed, eyes teary red and looking down at his feet. His hair is tousled, sticking out in all directions as if an electric current washed over him.
“Isagi?” Bachira shifted his body towards him, reaching his fingers out to poke his knee. He pursed his lips at Isagi’s refusal to look up at him. He lifts his hand and flicks Isagi straight in the forehead.
“Isagi!!” Isagi jolted up, eyes wide and whipped his head frantically around. He then looked back at Bachira, bewildered. And then he curls up back into his knees before crying out a strangled groan.
“Bachira, don’t you understand how difficult it was to carry you back here? Kaiser just laughed at me and at least Kunigami helped but he left me halfway because he had to go back to class!”
“Um…what happened though, I don’t remember anything,” Bachira asked curiously, tapping his chin. “All I know is I feel quite amazing right now!”
“I found your ass passed out at the convenience store entrance with a burning forehead.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“OH.”
“?”
“MY MONEY!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I won the Jingle Lottery!”
“???”
Isagi raises an eyebrow, a puzzled look threatens to crease on his face. He was already a complete mess after having to carry Bachira up flights of stairs, thanks to the elevator being broken, and then having to put him to sleep by changing his clothes, feeding him, and what not.
Now he needed to deal with this bullshit that Bachira was spewing. He concluded this must be the high from a fever. While he was doing his best to nurse Bachira back to health with a mechanical fan that had a wire cord so tangled Chigiri would fret, he found a bottle of tylenol on the ground.
And that’s how he figured out most of the story. He still has no idea what Bachira was doing outside when he clearly wasn’t in his best state of mind, taking tylenol without reading the expiration date on the bottle.
Isagi had thought the bottle label was familiar, and he realized he had gotten them almost two years ago, no wonder it did absolutely nothing. But the question of why he was outside in this condition still remains.
Isagi rocks his body forward, replicating Bachira’s previous flick against him to his forehead now. “You’re still in a mental state. You should rest right now or I might have to actually send you to the psych ward.”
Bachira shrugs, lifting up the palm of his hands. “I’m not lying, I did win the Jingle Lottery.”
“What is this ‘Jingle Lottery’?”
“A lottery for 880,000,008 yen.”
“What???”
“Yeah look!” Bachira turns around, reaching his hand and shuffling around for his phone. He finds it on his night stand charging and yanks the cable off, unlocking his phone and shoving it against Isagi’s face.
“See! See! Look! We’re basically rich now!”
“Why are you going around buying lottery tickets??? Is that even legal??”
“Well, actually, Shidou transferred me the money.”
“Shidou???”
“Yeah! He’s a good friend, you know!”
“Why would you ever trust someone like him? Do you understand what we might’ve just gotten ourselves into?”
“No! But just look at that money he gave us!” Bachira was practically drooling at this point. “Imagine how many electric mini fridges I can buy with this! I’m richer than Reo at this point.”
“Bachira, Shidou probably gave you scam money and then we’re going to be hunted down. Then, the police will find our dead bodies next to a dumpster behind some shady restaurant.”
Isagi presses both palms against his temple. It was simply an understatement that they were in trouble. Shidou, to say the least, was the most unreliable person to receive money from. God knows where it came from too!
“Bachira, we will be returning the money to him!”
“No! Not until I buy a fridge!”
Isagi suddenly leapt up and wrestled Bachira back down against his pillow. “We need to talk later! I cannot afford to die young, especially when I have to graduate as our university’s valedictorian! Go to sleep, and then we will continue this topic.”
Bachira gave up his strength, defeated under Isagi’s grip. He slumped over to the side and pulled his blanket up to his face. Was it truly the best choice to tell Isagi? He knew his reaction would be like this, what did he expect?
Yeah, that’s right! He shouldn’t have said anything at all! Let alone even mention it. Shidou had given him permission to let Isagi know, but why?
Why?
“I’m going to make lunch, you don’t get to decide today.” Isagi slipped off the bed, slapping the cold towel that had fallen off Bachira back onto his head. “I don’t want to see you get up from your bed either. I’m taking your phone.”
“What.”
Bachira’s body tensed and he sat slightly upright, pushing against his elbow to look at Isagi, who was already leaving for the kitchen.
And there he was left to ponder and gather his thoughts together.
Isagi had tied Bachira’s bangs back with a little rubber band to make room for the towel. Bachira shut his eyes, the image of Mr. Dingle Hopper flashing in and out before he blinked open, his lashes flickering up to see a familiar dark cloud hovering over him.
“Ooh! Mr. Dingle Hopper! What are you doing here?” Bachira grinned, flashing his teeth as the cloud of smoke began to take shape.
It only took a few seconds before Bachira’s eyelids fell heavy and he was once again, pushed off into sleep.
“...”
Lucky for Bachira, this time he’s self aware. Is this what it’s like to experience a lucid dream.
At this point, he basically already knows the drill: sleep, find himself in a dream, find Isagi, kiss Isagi, wake up! Now that he had gained the ability to think, he wondered if it was the kiss that ended his dreams. It seemed to be a noticeable pattern he was picking up, so he might as well experiment with the chance he’s got.
He opens his eyes to find himself…in bed. Isagi’s hovered over him, an apron on and his messy hair a little more flat. He pats Bachira and helps him out of bed. Bachira finds himself feeling much lighter than he did in reality, probably because his sickness wasn’t having any effect in his dream.
“Bachira! I made okayu (rice porridge, usually made for the sick or little children). You should eat it before it’s cold because if you did, it would waste my hard efforts in preparing you this.”
“Could you bring it here? I want to eat in bed!”
“Yeah, sure, just don’t spill.”
After expressing his gratitude, Bachira holds the bowl of okayu wrapped in between his blanket and spoons a scoop, blowing against the heat of it. Isagi meekly sits next to him, occasionally shooting side eyes towards him as if Bachira would ever judge his cooking.
Nonetheless, this was a dream, and it tasted like nothing. Okayu usually tasted like nothing, but Bachira always doused it in spices so it would. Isagi would have none of that today and didn’t even allow him to use salt.
“Bachira, you need to start taking care of yourself. I don’t know who would’ve helped you if I wasn’t there honestly.” Isagi sighs a little bit, crumpling a napkin between his fingers. “People mind their own business and usually can’t seem to help another in need. I can’t always be by your side either.”
Bachira stops blowing his spoon for a second and looks over at Isagi. He has this tender melancholy look upon his face that almost makes Bachira feel bad.
Almost.
He knew the real Isagi would say the same thing to him. Bachira’s also caught onto the pattern of how his dreams mysteriously align with the future. He wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up to Isagi handing him okayu and saying sentimental nonsense.
“Also, why do you trust Shidou of all people!”
“He’s a good friend!”
“He’s a good friend until we find ourselves tied up in a warehouse while bald old men demand for their money back!”
Bachira puts his spoon of okayu right to Isagi’s face. “I-sagi! You should try some, it’s really good.”
Isagi recoils back a bit, avoiding Bachira’s gaze. “Yeah, it’s fine, I made it for you. I already tried some while cooking.”
“It would make me sad if I didn’t get to feed you!”
“Fine…”
And of course, just as he was going to have his moment with Isagi, someone had to interrupt. It came from outside, and someone was knocking against their door.
“I’ll go check, stay here.”
Bachira’s eyes drop half-lidded in disappointment and he grumbled, kicking at a little stuffed animal he got from a rigged claw machine back when he had hung out with some blonde French kid that Shidou had probably illegally snuck to Japan. The kid was pretty much a genius, even at fifteen, and Bachira barely recalls his name. Apparently, he lied to his parents and ran off to the airport with Shidou and flew here, and they spent the entire day blowing straw wrappers and spending their money on claw clearly scamming claw machines.
Bachira has still yet to test the kiss theory on Isagi, and right now it’s starting to itch him.
“Umm…Bachira…we should probably hide.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“There’s weird people out there.”
“Huh?”
Bachira kicks his blankets tangled between his legs and helps himself up. He reaches where Isagi is standing and peers into the peephole.
Three men, all dressed in white robes, held black briefcases while quietly muttering to each other. They looked like they were going to a funeral. Plastered on their face were angry, impatient stares, and the man on the right bangs his fist against the door.
He shouts something incoherent, but it was a furious tone and he began to rattle the doorknob. He bangs some more, shouting.
“Do you think it’s because of the money?” Isagi eyes go wide, his fingers twitching as he pushes his back against the door.
Bachira opened his mouth and another loud bang against the door shook him. This time, he can hear the man loud and clear.
“He says he has a weapon, and he wants the money.”
“See! I told you that the money Shidou gave was fake! Look what happened!”
“Isagi, I got this, don't worry!”
“What! Are you batshit insane? Are you trying to talk with them??”
“No? What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know? You’re the type who thinks irrationally!” Panic surges through Isagi’s hushed voice as the obscene pounding against their metal door grew rapidly.
“They know we’re in here right? As long as we pretend we aren't in here…and escape through the window, it works!”
Isagi stares at Bachira with tired, glassy eyes. “Bachira, your time is ticking.”
“What?”
“You can’t stay here forever.”
“Oh.”
This was simply Isagi’s warning to Bachira that this wasn’t his reality, but what was yet to come. Bachira pauses, his eyes meeting Isagi. And for a moment, he says nothing.
“You’re right.”
And Bachira pulls Isagi in to kiss him.
He jolts awake.
A few good things that run through his mind when he awakens from this dream. One: he kissed Isagi! And the experiment with dreams ending is a true pattern. Two: he knows what will happen to him in about ten minutes!
Three: not exactly a good thing, but he has no idea what the fuck he should do.
The best option they have right now is to shut off all the lights and climb out the building through the window, just in case they broke in and ransacked the house.
Bachira leaps off the bed and rushes into the kitchen, where Isagi was quietly stirring the pot.
“Bachira! Go back to bed.”
“Isagi. Turn off all the lights right now. We aren’t safe.”
Isagi’s mouth hangs agape, his eyes narrowing in complete and utter confusion. “What nonsense are you saying now?”
“Isagi. Trust me. Forget the okayu. We have to survive. You’re right, Shidou did send me some shady money.”
Isagi sighs but obeys. He takes off his apron and tosses it aside before flicking off all the lights except the one in the kitchen. He looks back over at Bachira and then at the pot. “Do we have enough time for me to put the okayu into a container before we make a run for it?”
Bachira hesitates before nodding, and Isagi quickly fumbles out a plastic container, pouring the okayu in and sealing it shut. Isagi shoves it into a little bag and flings it across his shoulder. He flicks the kitchen light off and dashes towards the window in their living room, where Bachira had already lifted open.
“How are we supposed to jump from here??”
“Well, you can climb?”
“I don’t want to risk dying??”
“It’s okay, it’s not that far down. We can run to the hospital if you want. I don’t want to go to the park though, it’s the perfect place to be killed in.”
Isagi overlooks beyond the window’s ledge. True, it wasn’t that far from the ground, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to climb down at all. Why did he trust Bachira again?
A loud thud against their door broke Isagi’s train of thoughts. He narrowed his eyes and glanced back at Bachira, who already had his lower half of his body out the window.
“Bachira, you’ll have to explain how you know this shit will happen once we make a run for it.”
“Yeah, of course. We kinda need to run first.”
“Are we fugitives now??”
“Umm…more like ‘Robin Hood’!”
“Robin Hood stole money for the good. We aren’t doing that right now!”
“Okay, okay! Hurry up!”
Isagi scrambles his body out the window, pulling it shut to avoid evidence of escape before lowering himself down to a roof tile. There, he hears a heavy crash from above, obvious that the intruders had broken in.
He looks back down at Bachira, who had somehow gotten all the way down to the floor already. He shoots Isagi a wide grin and waves up.
Isagi shakes his head in horror and annoyance.
One of two things was going to happen.
Either Bachira passes out from weakness or Isagi passes out from the thought of this situation they had gotten themselves in.