#mah boooooiiiiiiiiiisssssss

[firebirdsdaughter]

DAY FIVE…

… A whole week later. ^^;

And no, no I can’t not be salty.

***

Horobi stared down at the green onions he was cutting, trying to focus on making them as small as possible to avoid drifting off. He supposed it was silly to be having almost more concern about the appearance of Fuwa’s food when Vulcan could no longer see it, but thinking about arranging the plate kept him from drowning in the massive ocean of guilt always churning just below the surface. He should never have asked for Isamu help—hell, he never should have gotten involved with him in the first place. He should have just thrown himself off the first rooftop after Zero-One made the mistake of sparing him. At least now the humans were keeping the rest of MetsubouJinrai and the Soldos away from him so he couldn’t infect them anymore—he’d already caused so much trouble for humanity that it would be dangerous to allow him to interact with other ai; he should be grateful they were even allowing him to look after Vulcan.

“Dream?” Fuwa’s voice interrupted his thoughts, breaking through deep water light the first rays of sun at dawn, “You’re not blaming yourself for everything again are you?”

Horobi dragged himself back to reality, realising he had been completely frozen while he descended into his self-hatred again. Hurriedly setting the knife aside to wipe his hands, he lifted the cutting board and carefully tipped the cut onions onto the tonkatsu plate, taking just a moment to arrange them a bit more. Once he was satisfied, he carefully picked it up and moved into the other room.

As soon as he came close, Fuwa’s hand shoot up, reaching in his general direction, fingers grasping for him. Under the table, Hikaru, his Golden Shepherd guide dog, sat up, thumping his tail and panting happily. Horobi carefully skirted around both of them to set the plate on the table, making sure everything was in order before trying to pull away.

Only for Vulcan’s hand to come down on his arm, gripping with even just a little bit of the strength that he used to rip open Progrise Keys—more than enough to keep Horobi in place. “Wait.” Keeping him anchored, Fuwa’s other hand felt up his arm to his shoulder, carefully feeling the cloth under his fingers. Horobi looked up at his face—for perhaps the first time since the incident, Vulcan’s sweet brown eyes (now permanently bloodshot by the effects of the ZetsumeRise Key) actually appeared to be fixed on him. They were still unfocused, hazy, but were definitely pointed right at him. “Dream…” The grip on his arms tightened, “… What colour are you wearing?”

Horobi froze again, his own eyes widening. He rarely changed clothes—most HumaGear never did, it wasn’t expected, and it made him… Uncomfortable, the way people looked at him when he did. But, sometimes, because Fuwa would go to the trouble of getting him materials, because he usually enjoyed it, so he would make different outfits for himself. This particular one was a deep, vibrant blue shirt, of a particularly soft fabric, with billowing bishop sleeves, buttoned up all the way to high collar, with a pair of black pants of the same cut as his original ones—nothing special or unusual, or enough to warrant the absolutely awestruck expression that was dawning on Fuwa’s face. “… I-”

“No, wait, don’t tell me!” Fuwa’s hand moved off his shoulder, trailing fingers across his collar to press a palm to his chest, “… Blue?”

If he had still been holding the plate, Horobi would have dropped it. His own hands flew up to catch Vulcan’s shoulders tightly, “… My wolf…?”

Fuwa’s hands tightened even more, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, wrinkling the cloth beyond recognition, but neither of them cared, his shoulders heaving, letting out the choked sobs of tears he could no longer shed, “It’s blue?”

Horobi struggled to regain his own composure, mimicking deep breaths—at first he nodded, then remembered that that might be too subtle, and so, “Yes,” He managed, trying not to choke on the words as he raised a hand to comb his fingers through Fuwa’s curls, “Yes, my little wolf, it’s blue.”

***

Based on the implication that Lone Wolf effected Fuwa’s eyesight.

And also Jane Eyre. Credit where it’s due.

#Firebird Writing #suicide mention #Kamen Rider Zero-One #Kamen Rider Zero One #mbjrweek #mbjrweek2022 #Romance #OTP #HoroFuwa #my precious angry wolf dad #my precious evil stoic scorpion dad #I miss them #mah boooooiiiiiiiiiisssssss #TT^TT #they soft #Binary Retro Rider