Nights Like These - Drakenui

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Draken knew his rules, rituals and routines were odd. They were just part of who he was and if the people around him had a problem, he wasn't willing to change for them. This is how he ended up calling Inui every night at 9 pm. The calls weren't long. A few minutes at most, but Inui treasured them a lot.

This particular night, Inui wasn't doing so well. He'd worked overtime every day that week and the exhaustion was piling up to come crashing down. He didn't even notice the time pass, until at 9 pm his phone broke the heavy 'silence.' It wasn't silent. There was the soft patter of rain against the windows and the drag of the cigarette every few seconds. Not to mention the thoughts, so many Inui was drowning in them. After the second round of his obnoxiously nostalgic ringtone, he picked up. He didn't realise he was shaking.

"Hello."

The voice was muffled through the the rain. Inui had only realised he'd been dissociating when the voice brought him back to reality.

"Hello?"

He checked his surroundings.

"Are you there?"

In front of him was his phone on speaker with the volume quiet.

"Inui are you there?"

An empty pack of cigarettes.

"Hello?"

A knife.

"Should I hang up?"

He checked his arms to find them littered with small cuts and scars. Not deep, but still a relapse.

"Ken I-"

"Inui?" He could sense the panic in both his own and his partner's voice, "Are you okay? Did something happen?" His body ached. The nicotine in his bloodstream from the chain-smoked cigarettes were definitely above his tolerance. "Please come home." His voice was quiet, soft, vulnerable. It was a call for help in so many ways. He coughed as the tar in his lungs began to sink in. The low quality fuzzy audio on the phone was oddly comforting. "Inui are you safe? I'll be right over."

"I messed up. I'm sorry."

He hadn't fucked up in months. He had one or two cigarettes a day to 'keep his nerves down.' Chain smoking on the kitchen floor was something he only did when he'd been dissociating. He had ash all over his uniform and a few burn holes from the cigarette ends he put out on his sleeves. The scars were something different though. He hasn't done that since he was a kid, about 16. He curled up, pressing his head between his knees to stop the panic.

"Hey, whatever happened it's not your fault okay? I'll be 10 minutes." Inui couldn't tell what time it was. It had to be around 9 pm, since that was the time Ken tended to call. He couldn't tell a lot of things. Like, if his head was full or empty. It was swarming with thousands of thoughts every second but he couldn't pinpoint any of them. It was so awfully overwhelming but at the same time painfully underwhelming.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to keep doing this to you." He felt himself speak through his throat close up, holding back tears. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass. He didn't want to cry. He wouldn't let himself cry. "Is the front door open?" Inui glanced at the door. He couldn't tell if the key was in the lock or not through the dark. None of the lights were on. "If not, the key is under the mat."

He heard the familiar sound of Ken's bike starting up through the phone. The call had to end. You can't drive while on call. "I have to go, Inui. I won't be long okay? You think you can hold out till then?" He nodded, knowing Ken couldn't see him. "I'll be waiting."

He hung up before he could get a reply. He slid the phone across the floor tiles as far away from himself as possible. Inui leaned his head back on the kitchen cupboard and took the knife that was next to him and threw it across the room, aiming for the sink. It fell short and hit the edge of the sink, falling onto the floor leaving a small blood splatter next to it.

He looked down at his arms, watching small bubbles of blood seep out between the lines, now pink from irritation. He needed something to keep himself occupied, since the last cigarette of the pack had burnt out. He decided to count the scars.

Sixteen.

Such a shit number of cuts to make, but the knife was too far away to add more. The more that he thought about it, 16 was the age he met Draken. Ken was 15. A better age to be. Inui wouldn't consider himself to have an obsession with numbers. Not at all. He just knew which ones he considered good. 15 was better than 16 because 3 and 5 are it's factors and they are good numbers themselves. 2 to the power of 4 is an awful number. Too many twos.

He heard the familiar rumble of Ken's motorbike engine faintly in the parking lot outside the apartment complex. A minute or two later, Ken walked through the door. He flicked the light on and Inui winced at the sudden intensity.

He took one look at the broken man on the floor of the kitchen and went straight to the bathroom to wash the grease and dirt off his hands and grab the first aid box. Inui sat on the floor fading in and out of dissociation, only returning when the cleaning stung a little.

Inui fully returned a minute or so later with his forearms completely wrapped and Ken was cleaning up the ash and cigarette butts littered around him. He'd also picked up and cleaned the knife on the floor.

"You're so nice to me. I don't deserve you." Ken chuckled slightly while walking to the bin. He tipped the trash into it and smiled at Inui. "Just care about you too much to let you suffer alone."

After watching Mikey push him and all the others away and fall down a path of destruction, both to himself and others, with the only person to support him cheering him on, he couldn't sit and watch someone else dear to him tear apart. He'd stitch him up as many times as he breaks just to see him repaired again. Not perfect by any means, but still together. Not broken.

Inui picked up the empty packet of cigarettes. "I only bought them yesterday. Was hoping they'd last me longer than that." Ryuji sat next to him on the floor. "How are you feeling? That's a lot of nicotine, dear." Inui smiled at the nickname. "I think I might have nicotine poisoning." Something he only experienced when he had a bit of a breakdown and smoked whatever was accessible at the time. This time it was a pretty much full pack of cigarettes. "Look at me."

Inui turned to the man beside him. "You look pale." He placed a hand on the smaller man's cheek. The small gestures always were the most comforting to Inui. "My blood pressure feels high."

"Don't have a seizure." Nicotine tended to give Inui atonic seizures. Like passing out, but he was conscious and got back up a few seconds later. He'd nearly cracked his head open a few times from them. "I might throw up." Nicotine also tended to make him feel nauseas. It was a common side effect. Easy to deal with, unlike the seizures. "Not on me, I hope."

"I'll aim it away from you." He turned back to stare straight ahead at the cabinet in front of him. He wasn't going to take the chance that he would randomly vomit.

"You're so kind to me." Inui leaned his head against Draken's shoulder. "Thank you for not making this a bigger thing than it had to be."

"Of course."