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Takumi has barely moved when Yugamu nudges his door open this afternoon. He’s still curled on his side the way that he was yesterday, his knees drawn in towards his chest and his eyes halflidded. He barely stirs when Yugamu approaches; the only indication he gives that he’s noticed he has company at all is that his eyes flicker in Yugamu’s direction, then return to the wall where they’d settled, idly.
Despite the pang in his chest, Yugamu forces a smile onto his face. He figures it’s irresponsible to come in here and be gloomy while Takumi is going through so much. After a moment of contemplation, and because Darumi isn’t with him this time, Yugamu goes ahead and sits on the edge of Takumi’s bed, close enough that he could brush Takumi’s knee if he leaned over slightly.
He doesn’t, and Takumi doesn’t make any moves to close the distance either. Not that Yugamu had expected that. Even when he’s in a better mood, Takumi isn’t the most touchy… but of course, watering it down to a ‘bad mood’ really doesn’t do justice to what he’s going through right now, does it? Yugamu swallows the urge to apologise for the thought, figuring it probably wouldn’t make much sense to Takumi anyway, even in this state… although it’s not long before the need to apologise for something else is rising in its place.
Yugamu’s hand shakes when he lifts it. As a child, he endured strict training in order to fight back human instincts like adrenaline rush and fear. It’s been a long while since he’s actually felt his body move in ways that he couldn’t rein in, but his hands have been doing that since the night he poisoned Kyoshika. Curling his hand into a fist instead, Yugamu digs his nails into his palm and counts to three, then relaxes his hand. He carefully spans the distance between himself and Takumi and brushes his fingers through Takumi’s bangs.
It’s been a while since he’s showered, or done anything really rather than lie here, so his hair’s a bit greasy. It lies flat when Yugamu smooths it down. He tries not to mess with it excessively, but can’t draw back when he sees the way Takumi responds to the touch, his eyelids shutting the rest of the way as he tips very minutely into Yugamu’s knuckle. It might be the most he’ll allow himself to react right now… That causes another twist in Yugamu’s chest, but he ignores that one too and tucks Takumi’s hair behind his ear.
“...It’s probably my fault,” Yugamu reflects quietly, “that you’re like this.”
Takumi doesn’t answer. Yugamu knows him so well by now that he can still hear the incredulous w-what do you mean? that Takumi would give in response if he was actually participating in conversation, but other than to cry over Takemaru days ago by Nozomi’s account, he hasn’t properly spoken in days, either. Yugamu pulls his hand back and sets it in his lap. It’s not hard to find a smile again, even if it feels sort of empty.
“Sorry for saying that,” Yugamu continues after a moment. “I didn’t come here to wallow in self-pity… Mostly, I just wanted to check on how you were doing. It would be nice to see you up and moving again too, but…” He won’t put pressure on Takumi right now. That’s the last thing he needs, and more important, so far from being Yugamu’s place, just the thought of it makes him feel slightly sick to his stomach. That’s been happening a lot too, alongside the hand tremors; this constant feeling of nausea, less like it’s ever provoked by anything specific and more like it’s just latent, waiting to be reactivated again the moment he stops flapping his lips for long enough for his mind to start working.
It probably is Yugamu’s fault, though, at least partially… Not to absolve Takumi of the weight of his choices, but it’s more complex than ‘Sumino-kun chose to kill those people the other day, and therefore he’s the only person who should feel guilty about it’. He’s been nearly catatonic about it since, so what Yugamu had speculated about happening to him before is clearly not within the realm of what’s possible, but… From the very start…
“Maybe it wouldn’t have even occurred to you if it wasn’t for me,” Yugamu muses. His hand moves again, even though it doesn’t have the right. He adjusts the hood of Takumi’s sweatshirt so it won’t fold uncomfortably under his neck. If he can even feel it right now. “If I hadn’t tried to change you… You probably didn’t need to be changed right from the very start. That is my fault, Sumino-kun. I’m sorry.”
Takumi’s eyelids have fallen open again, the faintest of creases appearing between his brows. His lips move, but he doesn’t say anything, his eyes glazing over after a moment of effort. He must have decided he doesn’t have the right to interject, even if he wants to… Yugamu can picture well enough what he’s thinking even without that though, so he smiles and inclines his head.
“You’re very kind.” Maybe that’s a quality that Yugamu didn’t know how to value correctly until he came here. He’d always admired it in others—being raised as an assassin couldn’t make him devalue kindness, even if it was never a priority—but he didn’t realise what it looked like to have depth of character until he met Takumi. There are a lot of admirable people in this academy, many of whom Yugamu would die permanently to protect if it came down to that, but seeing Takumi in a state like this is just the worst. It’s the worst because he has gone through a lot, but through it all he was always so animated and fierce, full of this contagious energy that Yugamu couldn’t help but want to follow—
Now he’s defeated in a way that Yugamu can’t fix for him, even if he’d like to. Looking down at his hand where he’s still toying with Takumi’s hood, it’s impossible to deny the part he played in driving Takumi to this point. He didn’t even ask for help back there—just told Yugamu and Tsubasa to avert their eyes. He’s never once thought about pushing his burden onto someone else’s shoulders. It’s only ever been a given to him that he should do the ugly parts himself.
Here he is being gloomy even though he just told himself he shouldn’t. Yugamu forces a laugh to clear the blockage in his throat.
“I’m just messing around, of course,” Yugamu says, and closes his eyes. “...I wondered if I could make you indignant enough to yell at me, but maybe that was mean to try in the first place.” He pulls his hand back again, and tucks it and its twin into his sleeves, where he won’t feel tempted to touch Takumi again. He doesn’t know if he deserves to. “...In any case, it’s been slow around here lately, but I have a few updates to share while I’m here…”
It’s easy enough to talk about nothing in particular. It’s equally easy to talk to Takumi about anything and everything—well, while he’s responsive, at least. This is a little more difficult, and especially trying without Darumi to bounce off of, but Yugamu doesn’t let that bother him. When it comes down to it, he can do whatever needs to be done—be whatever he needs to be in order to achieve the goal he’s set after. Maybe that sounds a little unimpressive (or downright pathetic) when he couldn’t even protect Takumi from this, but at the very least he can shut his emotions off when they’re inconvenient to him. Any good assassin ought to be able to manage that much.
At the end of all of this… Well, Yugamu has to believe there will be an end. That eventually Takumi will find his strength again and struggle back to his feet. Yugamu doesn’t know what to count on if he can’t count on that… So assuming that that will happen, when it does, Yugamu will have to apologise to him again. Truly, sincerely, without writing it off as a joke and without delivering it in a way that Takumi can’t really respond to… The way that friends have conversations. Yugamu hadn’t realised how much he would miss that, the ability to talk to Takumi as his friend, until he saw him for the first time in this state.
For now, Yugamu will try to be a pillar. He keeps his voice light and doesn’t talk about anything too serious. When he runs out of real updates to give, he babbles about nothing in particular, and eventually leaves when it occurs to him that he’s overstayed his welcome somewhat. What he wants more than anything is to stay close to Takumi right now—maybe to protect his body if he couldn’t shield his heart, throw an arm over his shoulders and keep him close until he feels ready to face the world again, but Yugamu won’t take more than he’s given.
He pauses at the door, thinks of apologising again, and takes a deep breath instead so nothing stupid will come out of his mouth this time.
“I’ll see you later,” Yugamu enunciates carefully, the smile affixed to his face, “so feel better, Sumino-kun.”