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It was not a challenging task, finding Yuma’s contact information once he left. He tended to use burner phones and switch through them whenever he moved locations for his detective work.
Besides, Yuma told Makoto he was free to contact at any time, especially in case of emergencies.
At first, Makoto scoffed at the suggestion. If he himself couldn’t get something done, what good would two of him do? It was easily refuted, considering that he thought the same about figuring out a solution for Kanai Ward’s people, and Yuma proved him wrong. Relying on Yuma was established to be rather efficient in certain cases. Little by little, Makoto warmed up to the idea.
It was what made him call that day.
“Hello? Makoto?” Yuma spoke into the phone, already recognizing Makoto’s phone number.
“Yes, it’s me,” he croaked. His voice was rough, probably from all the coughing. “Sorry if you’re busy.”
The coughing came from sickness. He felt his throat starting to get scratchy a few days ago but ignored it. Apparently, neglecting your health and needs for the sake of working came at a cost. So, at the moment, he laid uncomfortably on his couch, wrapped in a blanket with his laptop in front of him. The headache was very, very distracting, however. He would kill himself and revive completely healthy, but there was too much to do. He couldn’t afford wasting a day on the regeneration process. That was, unless someone would be able to watch over the work while he did so.
“No, that’s fine. I was just done with a case,” Yuma reassured. “Are you okay?” His words had a tinge of worry in it.
“Just a little—” Makoto tried to turn away from the phone’s microphone to let out yet another dry, aching cough, but it was so loud that he was absolutely sure Yuma heard it, “—ill. Wanted to know if you had the time to pay a visit.”
“You want me to take care of you?” He sounded a little surprised. Of course he was surprised, that was a step too far when it came to human connection for him. For them. Or more accurately, human-homunculus connection.
“Oh, no. Don’t worry. I can take care of it myself, it’s just a cold,” Makoto was quick to deny any help of the sort. That being said, he had a reason for calling. “I only need someone to watch over the company for a day while I do so, and I suppose I trust you and your abilities the most…” It was slightly embarrassing to admit, but they were the same person, so it made sense.
“A day won’t get rid of a cold that bad. Don’t tell me it is in your plans to commit suicide, waiting to get brought back?” So worked the brain of the greatest mind in the world, it seemed.
“Why not?” Makoto huffed. “It’s a quality I can utilize. Certainly easier than slacking for days on end.” He hated being a homunculus more than anything, loathed his birth over and over again, but it came with undeniable advantages.
“Taking care of yourself is not ‘slacking’, Makoto,” he warned with intimidation in his voice. Like a tiny puppy barking at someone in an attempt to threaten them. It would just end up looking cute.
“Hah. You’ve grown so soft.” Makoto assumed that Yuma would understand. It might have been his mistake.
“I’ll be there in the evening,” he dismissed him. Evening, huh. That was quick, since it was almost afternoon now. He must’ve been close by. “Try getting some fluids in and medication to ease the symptoms in the meantime.”
And he hung up. Makoto briefly entertained the thought of going through with his plan before Yuma was there to stop him, but Yuma would refuse to help with the duties if he acted disobedient. Perhaps they could work out a compromise when he arrived. He was still coded into Makoto’s security.
He should take Yuma’s advice and brew some tea.
It didn’t help that he felt a fever conjuring up. He was already sweating enough as it was. With a sigh, he placed his phone and laptop away, unwrapped himself from the blanket, and got on his feet while almost falling on the floor from how wobbly his legs were.
Actually, the blanket should stay over his shoulders now that he thought about it. The air in his penthouse was rather cold. He should adjust the thermostat as he waits for the water to boil.
He didn’t know what happened, but he found himself being nudged awake on his kitchen table. He fell asleep drinking tea. And there was someone else in his house. It ran a shiver down his spine.
“Great, you’re awake. I was starting to think you really went through with it,” the person that was nudging him said. He lifted his heavy head with a lot of force up to take a look, and found his own eyes staring back at him. It was Yuma. It couldn’t have been anyone else, but his mind wasn’t able to process it fast enough.
“Yuma,” he groaned. “I don’t know why I didn’t. I feel terrible.” And feel terrible he did. In a matter of seconds it felt as though his head grew even heavier.
“You need someone to watch over your work while you’re recovering, right? I can do that for you,” he suggested. Makoto didn’t want him to carry what was supposed to be his burden. Besides, it sounded like there was going to be a ‘but’. “As long as you take your time with the recovery properly.” There it was.
“I don’t want to distract you from your cases…” Makoto whimpered out an excuse.
“Nonsense. You called, so it must be horrible. Even if it wasn’t, I’d take care of you anyway.”
“…You’re here. Is it really evening already?!” He raised his voice and broke out into a cough again. Curse the cold. Yuma patted him on his back as it subdued.
“Did you sleep through the entire day?” He asked, slight bewilderment seeping through. Before Makoto could break out in a panic at the words, Yuma added: “That’s fine, rest is important when you’re sick.”
“I had to get back to the company branch in Osaka by the end of the day,” he scrambled to his feet right away. He left his phone on the coffee table. It wasn’t enough to soothe his nerves, but it was a long shot from the start.
“Makoto,” Yuma warned, “sit back down.” His tone was far too commanding to be consoling to his ears.
“But—”
“Don’t overexert yourself. Let me do it.” When Makoto shot him a doubtful look at the proclamation, Yuma raised his eyebrow. “What? We sound the same. Tell me what they need to know while I unpack this…” He pointed at the bag that Makoto didn’t notice laying on the counter. Getting sick really clouded your senses, it looked like.
“This?” He asked to clarify the contents of the bag.
“I brought you some miso soup,” Yuma moved it towards himself on the table. “Cooking would’ve ended in a disaster.”
“…Thank you,” he breathed out in defeat. It was a little tough to breathe with his nose clogged and throat throbbing.
So, Yuma transferred the soup out of the takeout container to a bowl, placing it in the microwave as he listened to Makoto explain the details of the report. Yuma listened intently, and once he set the bowl in front of Makoto, went to grab his phone.
With minimal help navigating through it from Makoto, he managed to make the call and speak as the CEO of Amaterasu.
“They said they’ll get to work tomorrow. Since it’s a little late now,” Yuma explained after hanging up.
“I see…” Makoto’s lips morphed into a straight line as he pushed the tofu floating in the broth around the bowl using his chopsticks. He felt no appetite at all, but at least that was some good news.
“You’re looking rather pink. Let’s measure your temperature,” he suggested as he went through the cabinets in search of a thermometer. Makoto continued to play around with his food. As though he had eyes in the back of his head, Yuma spoke up again. “You should really finish up the soup before it gets cold again.”
“Ugh, yessir.” He would’ve motioned a salute if any movement he made did not require extensive effort.
“Come on…” Yuma pouted, approaching Makoto again with the found item. He sat by him on the table. “Place the thermometer on yourself.”
He did as asked. While they waited, Makoto brought up the bowl to his lips to take a sip. The broth was tepid now. Yuma stared at him intently, concern evident in his eyes. But when Makoto turned his head to meet his eyes, Yuma quickly averted his gaze, biting his lip. Maybe the illness was clouding his understanding.
After a few minutes and a finished meal, Yuma asked Makoto to hand the thermometer over. “39.1°… That’s really bad.”
“You don’t say,” Makoto sassed. What was really bad was that he used to be able to power through sicknesses like this, yet now he was practically a breathing sack of meat. He brought his palm to his forehead to feel around it and it was pretty warm. And sweaty.
“I’ll run you a bath while you eat, alright?” Yuma offered and got off the chair without receiving an answer.
“A bath…” That sounded almost familiar. “If you’re set on doing that no matter what I say, at least make it lukewarm.”
“Got it,” he smiled and went off to the bathroom.
It was as though Makoto closed his eyelids a few times, and Yuma was done. It should not take that quick to fill a bathtub, but then again, his mind was pretty hazy.
Makoto stumbled to the bathroom with just a little support from Yuma, and heard Yuma go back to clean up the kitchen for him. He started by ungirding the blanket and dropping it on the floor. He started dealing with his shirt afterwards and it ended up being not as simple as it appeared.
“Do you need any help?” Yuma entered the room with a few towels to find Makoto struggling. Amazing timing, as always.
“No,” Makoto nearly snapped at him. His fingers clumsily slipped on the buttons as he fought to open them, to no avail. With a frustrated sigh and a frown making its way onto his face, he gave up. “Maybe.”
Yuma helped him unbutton the rest of the shirt with no protest and carefully lifted it up, making sure Makoto was able to slip his arms out of the sleeves. Makoto didn’t notice before, but he was shivering just slightly. The cool air hitting his skin didn’t help. Then went the belt he put on in the morning in hopes of really going to work, but had been a bother the entire day since that never ended up happening. He would’ve probably fumbled with it worse than with the button down. The pants and the undergarments proceeded next, together, and he had to awkwardly raise his legs to aid Yuma, gripping on the edge of the bath to keep his already faltering balance.
And then he was bare under Yuma’s gaze and it was a little flustering. It was unlike the first time Yuma saw Makoto like this, actually him and not just himself, because this once Yuma was there willingly, involved in the process of the undress. There was no barrier of the mask, and he could argue it was what made him the most exposed he could get. However, Yuma paid no mind to his sudden shyness, gesturing for him to get in.
“There we go,” he helped him step in, preventing any slips or falls.
“Yuma,” Makoto hummed as he settled into the water. Perfectly set to thirty one degrees, enough to get his body feeling chilly. “Get in with me.”
“W-What?” It was Yuma’s turn to have light blush creeping up his cheeks. The request was too abrupt, unpredictable.
“You rejected my proposal the first time we met,” he recalled. It wasn’t as though he was grasping at straws trying to share a hot tub with his original, especially not back then, but the memory awakened a certain shame deep in his chest he wasn’t sure the cause of. “A lot has changed, so I’m suggesting it again.” And if he were to get rejected again, well, it was worth a try.
“Um… Well, I don’t see why not, actually.” So he didn’t have to bring out the faux incompetence of not being able to wash himself, then. Though the idea of Yuma’s fingers in his hair sounded pretty appealing. Wow. The wind sure was loud today.
“Great. I can try drowning you again.” The embarrassment from his previous thoughts immediately mutated into silly aggression. It was easier taken out on Yuma.
“Hahah, that’s not very funny…,” Yuma scratched his cheek. “That was a joke, right?” He grew a little alarmed, voice trembling scanty. Makoto stayed silent, blinking at him. “Makoto?”
Despite the fear in his tone, Yuma neatly placed his detective uniform on the shelf nearby and stepped into the bath. Some of the water poured out of the bathtub surrounds, since when an object was immersed in a liquid, it took the place of the fluid, displacing the amount of liquid equivalent to that of the object’s volume. It was directly related, as per the Archimedes’ principle. Two people of the same volume displaced twice the water that Yuma had initially anticipated, which led to the extra cleaning he would have to do once they got out.
Makoto would say it was worth it, though.
Good for them that Makoto’s bath was wide enough. He was able to properly fit between Yuma’s legs and sit with his back facing his face. They conformed together like puzzle pieces and maybe Makoto would’ve thought about it more if his tired brain wasn’t lulled by the sensations all around. Sitting face to face might’ve been more comfortable, although the reason for the position possibly lied in the fact that Yuma would help Makoto wash up either way. He was thoughtful, far more thoughtful than Makoto himself, and it made his cheeks dusted with pink all over again.
Despite them sharing the same anatomy and consequently the same fingers, he felt a wave of pleasantness wash over him at the way Yuma dutifully massaged shampoo onto his hair strangely distinct from the way he did it himself.
“Haha, I got a soap beard,” Yuma giggled once his fingers retracted from Makoto’s scalp and Makoto absentmindedly tilted his head to look. He collected the bubbling shampoo residue on his palms and lathered his jaw in it. He looked like a baby Santa Claus.
“Pfft,” Makoto tried to stifle his laugh, “what are you, four?” It was childish enough to break through his dazed state.
“No, but you are,” he retorted with his tongue sticking out.
Makoto splashed a bit of water over Yuma’s face and he whined at it washing away the soap. He carried on with his task while Makoto tried his hardest not to doze off again. Thankfully, the occasional coughs made it simpler.
When they were out and dried off, Yuma suggested he would blow dry Makoto’s hair for him. Makoto knew he shouldn’t go to bed with his hair wet since it’d be a pain in the neck trying to get it neat later in the morning, if he would even have the energy to do that, so he agreed.
“I feel better now,” Makoto mentioned as he sat onto the soft, and definitely not recently used bedsheets. He was in his pajamas, because Yuma was appalled when he tried getting back into his suit and forced him to reveal the whereabouts of his sleep clothes.
“I’m glad,” Yuma nodded. “But I still have to give you your medicine and get you to bed.”
“I think I’ll be fine doing so myself.” It was a little stupid to attempt to get back any sort of autonomy after getting help with washing himself, but depending on Yuma too much could be dangerous.
“You’ll crawl out of bed the moment my eyes are away and drag yourself to your laptop.” Yuma, however, was unamused. Makoto couldn’t argue back, given that he would absolutely try doing that. He didn’t see anything bad about it, in particular when his fatigue and feverish state had eased.
“You’re no fun,” he caught himself before he could pout. As though the universe decided to drive the point home, he felt a cough itch at the back of his throat and quickly covered his mouth with his forearm.
“Hey, I promised to watch over your work while you rest, didn’t I? Leave it to me.” And he flashed his reassuring smile, that stupid smile he couldn’t picture on himself yet when Yuma wore it, it brought a weird fondness to his chest, warmth spreading through his veins.
“Okay,” Makoto sighed. “But… You don’t overdo it either.”
“It’s pretty nice of you to care about me, Makoto.” Now, the smile seemed mocking. It took everything in him not to grab a pillow and throw it in Yuma’s face.
“Get me my medicine, servant.” Makoto dropped onto the mattress and pulled the covers over himself. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Geez…” Yuma shook his head and chuckled at the obvious deflection. “Coming.”
Perhaps relying on someone was not too bad after all. Even if that someone is, by extension, yourself.