Chapter Text
Shuichi is a good and upstanding person.
He regularly donates, is careful with his purchases, and has dedicated his life to God. Overall, he finds himself satisfied with the life he's living, a twenty-three year old with only a few close friends max, a fond crush on a woman his age that he's sure might be the one, and has a very quiet and non-frivolous schedule.
In short, Shuichi Saihara is everything he wants to be.
The issue is he was never perfect and he was never going to be.
He resists the urge to scratch his forehead when the elastic band presses uncomfortably against his skull, flexing his fingers inside his transparent gloves as a reminder to avoid doing so. It had slid past his hairline, and he bets his appearance comes off as ridiculous to the people he's serving, though they're more focused on the silver ladle donned in his left hand scooping out a generous portion of food for their plates than they are on him. Even when he flashes them a smile and wishes them a good day, it's more than apparent that most of these people are humiliated enough to require help in the first place. He never judges. He'd learned quickly that only God judges, and that it's just his responsibility as a devout believer to spread as much kindness and love to everyone possible.
Today, the shelter is almost filled to the brim, with most people having to huddle up together to conserve warmth. The hundreds of blankets his church had bought hadn't proved to be enough to stave off the harsh cold that leaves goosebumps across the skin that isn't covered, the back of his neck and his wrists. The heaters Shuichi personally bought are small, and it appears they don't entirely serve the purpose of keeping the place warm enough, but he's noted the stark lack of complaints.
Kaede huffs to herself at his right shoulder as she finally begins to pack up their small area. "Can't believe we didn't have enough vegetables," she mutters to herself, her eye twitching as she peels off her gloves and balls them together between her palms. Beneath the counter is a sizeable trashcan that she tosses the gloves inside, earning a faint rustle of plastic against plastic. "Well! I think we have less people around this year. Means the initiative is really starting to pay off, huh?" When she flashes him a smile, he can't help but return it. Her smile effortlessly outshines the sun itself.
"Just like you knew it would," he says, peeling off his oversized gloves as well. His feet ache from standing on them for hours without much of a break, and every time he blinks he has to assure himself he won't lose consciousness while standing up. "Are you coming in tomorrow?" he asks her, his voice full even though he knows it shouldn't be. It's never good to hope; he should allow things to happen as they may.
"Ah, I can't. Babysitting again. You know, she's growing up so quickly, it's a little crazy!" Kaede exclaims, wriggling the top of her head out from beneath her hairnet, her golden curls falling past her shoulders. "You should come over. I'm sure she'll be super happy to finally have a new victim to makeover."
"Maybe next time. I promised to visit my uncle tomorrow," he says, though he'll be the first to admit that he's never had the easiest relationship with the man, who'd grown up nonreligious and... fed him the wrong ideals growing up. He's making amends as best as he can now, but he can't deny the slight hurt that courses through his chest when he thinks too long about the damage that took more than enough time to undo.
"Oh, you're talking again?" Her lilac eyes light up as she lifts the fabric of her cream apron above her head and nearly folds it in her hands. "That's good. You're not still angry, are you?"
"I'm steadily forgiving him," he explains, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's... not as difficult as I thought it'd be."
"Well, you know what they say. If you forgive others their transgressions, your heavenly Father will forgive you, right?" She leans her hands against the counter, stretching her back with a small huff when her joints pop.
"I know." Shuichi has found out quickly that forgiveness isn't as easy as it sounds, not remotely, and not many people have hurt him on the level his uncle had. Maybe he dwells on things too much. He pulls out his phone to check the time, the numbers flashing 22:39. "Goodness, it's this late already?" he asks out loud, his eyebrows shooting up.
Kaede laughs heartily as she stands up straighter. "Well, don't just stand there. You should get going, yeah? Me and the others will hold down the fort here and clean up."
"You sure?" He glances back up at her, a frown forming on his lips. "I don't mind staying longer, I can always push up the time I can go see him."
Kaede scoffs, still smiling as she waves her hand dismissively, clearly not willing to relent on this one. "Oh, don't do that, it's been a while since you two have spoken! Just go ahead and get some sleep, okay? You've helped plenty here."
He chews on his bottom lip in consideration, debating the pros and cons within his head. Before he's able to come to a proper conclusion to satisfy the both of their conflicting desires, Kaede plants her hands on his shoulders and gently pushes him away from the counter. "Go already!" she insists, still cheery as ever as her tone borders on a small giggle. "Go, we'll be just fine, Shuichi."
"Alright, alright, I'm going, I'm going," Shuichi relents with an exasperated sigh, but even he's amused as he steps away willingly away from her, pinching the fabric of his apron by the sides and pulling it above his head to hand to her. She folds it neatly in her hands and rests it beside hers in her arms. "Goodnight, Kaede. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Shuichi!" Kaede waves at him before turning her head to speak with another volunteer with just as much enthusiasm. Shuichi doesn't stop the fond smile to stretch hazily across his lips as he leaves her there, bidding a couple homeless people a good night as he seizes his coat from one of the back rooms normally used to educate elementary kids on Sundays. He doesn't settle inside of his coat fully until he reaches the back entrance and is careful to shut it tightly, his exhale spilling past his mouth in a large white puff as he pushes his zipper up to his chin, the thick material hugging his frame tightly.
The back entrance of the church is barely illuminated by the yellow glow of the streetlight beside the building. He turns toward the light, walking down the sidewalk with only his quiet footsteps padding along the pavement to accompany him. He's not accustomed to being out this late, his overanalytical and paranoid thoughts running wild and unsupervised to detail the worst-case scenarios that could transpire; he gets mugged, someone stabs him randomly, a van rushes down the street, slides open the door, and pulls him inside... He forcefully shakes his head to will the thoughts away, but he jolts when the clanking of a bottle against pavement suddenly enters his earshot. A snicker follows as a small person exits the shadows of an alleyway, leaning against the wall as their eyes meet. His close friends Kaito and Kaede have purple eyes, but... he'd never seen a pair so vibrant and gorgeous.
"Hey, there, cutie," they speak up, winking at him. Oh, it's a male, Shuichi realizes distantly. From the skimpy outfit to the youthful face, he hadn't been able to tell. "You look like you could be a lot of fun."
Pushing down the lightning-fast burst of surprise followed by horror of a man so shamelessly flirting with him, Shuichi takes more of the way the other drags his syllables in his mouth like his tongue is numb. "Oh, um... I'm so sorry, I can't allow that," he tells him, shame coiling inside of him. How could he have been so quick to judge when that should never be in his nature? "But I can take you someplace else for the night. There's food and shelter for you."
The man snorts before Shuichi is even finished speaking, his eyes rolling. Though Shuichi is unsure if he's rolling his eyes out of finding his offer uninteresting or it's just his eyes quite literally rolling into the back of his head. "That stupid church? Noooo thank you," he mumbles, having to lean his head against the edge of the wall. He isn't nearly covered enough in this biting wind, his frail arms hugging his frame as if it could aid him any further. "I know you. Yooou're that guy who passes me by all th' time."
"Really?" He's so sure that he'd never quite forget someone like the person in front of him. "Well, um... I like to help people. As much as possible. So, if you'll let me help you, I swear you won't have to be stuck on the streets for much longer."
The man lazily tilts his head up to face him, his eyes so strangely vibrant despite the awful situation. "Oh, yeah? What're you gonna do, sing some... some hymns, or some crap?"
Shuichi glances back down at the road he'd come from, frowning. He's not entirely sure the church has what's necessary to nurse someone clearly inebriated and disoriented. He can't in good conscience allow someone to waste away in an alley with barely a jacket covering their shoulders, so he makes a decision then and there. "Okay. Come with me," he says.
"Aww, finally gonna fuck me?" he titters, still having to support his weight against the wall. "Mm, I doubt it. You're just... gonna take me someplace, get me all fixed up, like I won't go riiiight back here at the end of the day. I don't want your help." The last sentence comes out bitingly as he suddenly stands up straight, his head swaying as his pale face streaked with heavy bright makeup contorts into a fierce scowl. "So get the fuck away from me already."
Shuichi's brows knit together as the harsh tone forces his foot to slide back as if wanting to give him space. "I don't mean to pry or judge," he insists, nearly fumbling over his own words. "Just... Take the help. I don't have any ulterior motives, I just want to help you."
"Yeah, I got that from a lot of different people. Why should you be any different, hm? 'Cause you worship some imaginary friend?" he drawls, his words starting to jumble together. He's growing less coherent, his eyelids fluttering as if threatening to close. Panic seizes Shuichi's chest and he opens his arms out just in time for the other to fall straight into them.
"Goodness, you're burning up," Shuichi says. He definitely can't stand around and allow someone to suffer like this, and he's reminded by another faint streetlight ahead that his home is much closer than the church is. Sending a quick prayer above, he keeps his arms around the man and slowly walks ahead. "Come on. I can help you at my house."
Instead of a reply, there comes only a whimper instead. His feet drag as he lacks the strength to move forward, with Shuichi needing to do the bulk of the work. He doesn't mind it too much, but he can't help the tightening feeling welling inside his throat at the realization of - he's so small... Far too small to actually be managing the streets.
The walk home is lengthier than it normally would be, though it's because Shuichi is practically dragging him along. When they reach his house, tucked away in a quaint and quiet neighborhood, Shuichi reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve his keys, which jingle as he adjusts them by the cute anime strap Kaede had bought him a year ago. He inserts the brass key into the lock, twisting it with an audible click. The man in his arms lets out a drunken giggle. "Oooh," he hums out like it's so amusing, "never been in a fancy-schmancy house..."
"It's not fancy," Shuichi denies as he hangs his keys on a hook on the wall, shutting the door behind him as the two enter. "Now—" His words are cut off when weak hands push him against the door, a knee prying his legs apart and settling between them. "H-Hey! What are you—?!"
The man licks his lips as he stares up at Shuichi, his gorgeous eyes tinged with lust. "C'moooon, don't tell me you don't like t' have fuuuun," he whines out, and the words are more sensual than they should be that Shuichi finds his back sliding down the door by the barest inch.
His eyes dart around as his heartbeat abruptly picks up inside his chest, his fingers seizing the man's wrists and gently pushing him back. "We can't do that," he says quickly, adjusting the collar of his shirt. The fabric is abrasive against his hot skin as he roughly clears his throat. "I'll give you a place to stay for a couple days, but... But none of that, alright?"
The other clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "You act all pure, but Christian guys're the filthiest, y'know."
His eyebrows lower, definitely disliking this conversation as he folds his arms over his chest. "They're not real Christians," he says firmly.
This quiets him, and for a moment Shuichi is assured that he's said the right thing up until he receives a murmur of, "You don't know what a real Christian is." The conversation is dropped abruptly when his new houseguest collapses to the floor. Shuichi yelps, crouching down close to him. He scoops him up in his arms, carefully carrying him to the couch. The man is burning up so feverishly pressed against him that Shuichi considers taking him to a hospital, but relents on sufficing with his own methods to nurse the man back to health himself. Shuichi wets a cloth to drape over the other's forehead, as well as leaves food and drink beside him on the coffee table. The man groans, shifting onto his side instead as he only says, "Kokichi..."
Shuichi glances up at him after having retrieved a blanket from his closet to drape over him. "Hm?"
"My name..." he croaks, his voice gentle and soft. "It's... Kokichi."
"That's a lovely name," he says earnestly. "I'm Shuichi Saihara."
Kokichi only lets out a broken him before shutting his eyes, his small frame rising and falling with even breaths. Shuichi watches him for a moment, a little awestruck by just how genuinely gorgeous he is, and—Hang on.
He shakes his head, unsure where that even came from. He's never once thought of any man as gorgeous. Handsome, occasionally, but gorgeous is... feminine. It's associated with soft women like Kaede or even Maki. It can't exactly fit someone as abrasive like Kokichi.
Shuichi shakes off his internal thoughts as he shrugs off his jacket off his shoulders to be hanged in his closet. He rubs his hands together to create heat as he heads into his room, melting into the bed after a long day of working tirelessly. Normally he'd read a little before bed, but his reading glasses remain at his bedside table and he only shuffles under his unwrinkled covers, shutting his eyes to thoroughly enjoy a good night's rest.