Archive of Our Own ^beta

Appare curses under his breath as he pricks his finger again, a small dot of blood beading on his skin. His hands are far more used to larger parts, heavier machinery; sewing is quickly proving to be a bit out of his depth. And yet even if Hototo were here right now, he probably wouldn’t ask for help. The kid had headed out with Xialian earlier on a search for decent Japanese food, hoping in some sense that a taste of home would help raise Kosame’s spirits. Appare almost wishes he’d gone along to help (despite Kosame’s belief that he has no sense of taste) but he didn’t want Kosame to wake up again and be alone. Appare owes him at least his company. 

He sighs as he turns back to his task, listening to Kosame’s even breathing as he sleeps. The bullet had made a surprisingly small hole in Kosame’s robes, only made larger by the frantic motions that had been made while removing it. Appare’s grip on the fabric tightens as his breath hitches; he doesn’t want to be crying when Kosame wakes up, so he bites into his lip and tries to focus. His hands have a slight shake he’s never had before, and it’s making this far more difficult than it should be. The surgical thread he found is going to leave an ugly scar across Kosame’s comforting green robes, just like the one the bullet is currently carving into his side. Appare bites harder into his lip, pulling the fabric up to his face and trying to remember why any of this happened and where the fuck he’s supposed to put the needle in next and—

“Appare.” Kosame’s voice stops him in his tracks. The fabric drops back down to his lap and he sees Kosame smiling at him, seemingly trying not to laugh. He’ll ignore the weird feeling in his chest from that for now. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve never sewn before?”

“Because it’s obvious and you know me.” Appare sighs in uncharacteristic exasperation, maybe trying to get Kosame to let out that laugh. He scoots his chair a little closer and tries to keep a straight face while showing his stitches, and then has to resist kicking Kosame’s bed frame when he sees his friend bite back half his grin.

“Ah. You’re terrible,” Kosame says outright, moving carefully to sit up a little and wincing at the pain. 

“Hey, I’m doing my best here!” Appare tries to bite back. Then he’s speaking again before he can really think about it. “It’s my fault anyways, so it’s... it’s the least I can do.”

Dragging down a conversation is an accidental skill of Appare’s, and he’s never hated it more than right now. Kosame makes a strained noise. “Appare... I know just saying it outright won’t change your mind but this... this is something I chose to—no, I had to do.” His shaky hand reaches out and Appare takes it without hesitation, but can’t quite meet his eyes. He hears Kosame sigh. “You’re still working on the car, right?”

Appare nods. He won’t tell Kosame that he’s been up for the past 24 hours unless he asks. With his answer, however, Kosame seems relieved and lays back down, his hand leaving Appare’s to lightly brush over his wound with a grimace. There’s a moment of silence; not quite uncomfortable, but laden with words neither of them quite know how to say. Then Kosame clears his throat. “You should be stitching in a way that brings the sides of the cloth together, like the fabric is hiding it underneath.” Appare blinks and looks back down at his stitches, realizing just how far from Kosame’s description it looks. 

“You’re kidding. You can hide stitches?”

“Look at the clothes you’re wearing! Of course you can, give it here.”

Appare gratefully hands over Kosame’s clothes and watches him thread the needle with ease, folding the sides of the fabric over a little and running the needle along the inside of the folds. It’s mesmerizing in the same way it is to watch Kosame peel vegetables or take apart every fish Hototo’s caught in a day; the surprising and quiet confidence he carries in small but important tasks. He’s... admirable. In more ways than Appare can convey. He’s reliable and kind and caring and sweet and everything Appare can’t see in himself. He all-too-often can’t even bring himself to care about others, but Kosame cares so much it could kill him. It almost did kill him. The weight of that fact keeps coming back to Appare, bearing down on his chest like the air is being sucked out of this small room. Then he feels a tap on his knee, and Kosame’s gentle face brings him back. “We can’t use kaketsugi mending to fix this since I don’t have enough material for a patch, but just closing up the hole is enough for now. Do you think you get it? It’s a little hard for me to raise my arms enough to do it properly.” Yet not hard enough to reach over and take my hand. Appare silently takes back the cloth and does his best to emulate Kosame’s movements. He can feel his friend’s eyes on him, but the reminder of his presence is more of a comfort than anything else. 

As he slowly mends the hole Appare turns over a question in his head, twisting it to see if there’s an angle that’s less sharp, less deep. It’s weird to even consider that he’s doing that now; trying to find words and a tone to appease another person rather than just blurting out whatever he wants to say. He’s curious though, and that seems to win over all else. 

“Kosame,” he starts, almost more just to make sure his friend is awake. He gets a soft noise as a response and takes it as permission to continue. “Is sewing something else you picked up to take care of your family?”

Appare glances up and is relieved the second Kosame doesn’t react with a grimace, his face instead appearing almost nostalgic. He’s a little sad, too; Appare feels weirdly proud of knowing Kosame enough to read it. “Yeah, I figured it would come in handy… It seemed like Fumi was always growing, and my clothes often got tears from housework or training. My father never really picked it up as a skill so…” Kosame trails off, and Appare notices sweat beading on his forehead. He’s straining himself too much. With a frown, Appare sets down the robes and grabs the water basin from Kosame’s bedside, wringing out the rag inside to wipe his face. It’s weirdly intimate in a way Appare is extremely unused to. And in a way that he’s surprised he likes. 

Minus the whole factor of Kosame being in a hospital bed, of course. 

Kosame breathes out a word of thanks and falls back asleep on the spot, pulling a small laugh from Appare. This must be how Kosame feels every time Appare passes out on him (sometimes literally, as Kosame has claimed in a fit of irritation). A smile tugs at his lips as Appare lifts the blanket to tuck in his friend. The motion causing his fingers to brush Kosame’s skin and before he can really think about it, he’s moving Kosame’s hair out of his face. Even all sweaty from pain and only a few hours from his visit to death’s door, he’s so… pretty. His dark eyelashes cast small shadows on his cheeks, guiding Appare’s gaze to his strong nose and seemingly soft lips. For a split second of social awareness, Appare reminds himself that nobody else is in the room. It’s okay to admire Kosame like this. 

Their close call had really been a breaking point for both of them, he thinks—Kosame deciding that he would put his life on the line for Appare, and the action of it shattering the barrier Appare had kept between them this whole time. Kosame had been chipping away at it consistently but this… this is beyond any logical calculation of behaviour. Kosame is a variable that Appare never accounted for. 

In a moment of impulse, or maybe even pure stupidity, Appare leans down and presses a quick kiss to Kosame’s forehead, almost more a graze of the lips than anything else. Despite the silence and lack of company, Appare can feel his face burning as he pulls away and returns to his seat. The unfinished mending job glares up at him and he’s actually glad to have something to focus on other than the strange feeling in his chest. 

He’s starting to see it properly now, the ill-defined shape of his feelings. There’s no prerequisite, no notes for him to turn to; these feelings for Kosame are tossing him into open waters. He just has to learn how to swim.

-x-

The light from the windows has disappeared by the time Kosame wakes up again, his sleep completely off-schedule from the medication and exhaustion. Being on the road with Appare has certainly messed it up too, and at the thought Kosame looks around for the engineer in question. He seems to have left at some point, hopefully finally taking Kosame seriously and going back to work on the car. The last thing Kosame wants is to darken Appare’s bright star. 

Instead, Kosame sees Hototo curled up at the foot of his bed and a tired-looking Xialian covering his small form in a blanket. She looks up at the sound of him moving and gives him a smile. “Sorry, you just missed Appare. I did send him off with some food though, and he said to tell you that your robe is done.”

Kosame looks over to the chair where Appare had been seated and sees his clothes folded (very poorly, he notices). It’s a little too far out of his reach though, and Xialian thankfully takes notice. As she picks up the clothes and hands them over, however, she chokes a little on a laugh and slaps a hand over her mouth.

“I’m really hoping those weren’t important,” she says through her fingers, clearly biting back another comment. Kosame raises an eyebrow and lifts the cloth a little, finding Appare’s stitches and understanding immediately. 

They’re... bad. He must’ve been pulling too hard on the thread or something because his mending actually has warped the shape of the cloth, and Kosame can’t help but smile as he runs his thumb over it. Despite the result he can feel the work put into it, and the time Appare spent despairing over it. And it’s different from toiling over a machine every day, pouring hours of time and effort into a large creation stemmed from pure passion; this is Appare’s handiwork on a small scale, explicitly for Kosame’s sake. This is Appare trying to help him heal. 

Xialian’s looking at him strangely now, and Kosame’s face burns a little. Yet he still pulls the cloth close to his chest as he settles back down. “Please tell him he did well, and I appreciate the time he spent.”

Xialian shakes her head and sighs. “You’re too soft on him. Get some rest, Kosame.”

He gives her a small nod and sinks into his pillow, his hand still holding his friend’s hard work. And he lets sleep find him, hoping Appare will be there at his side once again in the morning.