Ichimatsu is pretty sure he has the nosiest brothers on the entire goddamn planet.

Yes, he hasn't been eating. Yes, he's been sleeping all day. And yes, he's been cycling wildly from feeling like he's melting to feeling like he's in fucking Antarctica. All those symptoms, they had been able to ignore—as long as he keeps the mask on, they're not at risk, so why should they care?

But the second they realize the raspy voice isn't just for show and it's actually his throat that's been killing him, suddenly they're all interested.

"Let us see."

"No." He twists his head to the side, eyes shut in determination.

Choromatsu frowns, reaching out to feel his brother's forehead, but his hand is slapped away before it can hit its mark.

"Don't touch me."

He furrows his brows, sits back on his heels. "Look, if nothing's wrong, then it shouldn't be a big deal to just show us, right? We're worried about you, stupid."

Ichimatsu rolls his eyes, starts to say something that is probably very rude in reply—except no sound comes out. He tries to clear his throat, and there's no missing the way his whole expression contorts in pain. "I—" he begins, but Choromatsu cuts him off.

"Look, we'll leave you alone right after, okay? Just for our peace of mind."

"I don't give a shit about your peace of mind," is the hoarse complaint, but Choromatsu keeps staring. He huffs a sigh in resignation. "Fine, whatever. Do what you want."

"Great!" his brother produces a flashlight from god-knows-where, and a vein twitches in Ichimatsu's forehead with the suppressed urge to pummel him into next month.

"Tilt your head back, stick out your tongue, and say 'aah'," Choromatsu prompts, as everyone gathers around for a closer look.

Momentarily blinded by the flashlight, Ichimatsu feels very much trapped as his brothers lean in, trying to marvel at whatever medical mystery they're sure they'll discover. Still, he complies, trying not to think too hard about what his ravaged throat surely must look like from their angle. He closes his eyes, hearing someone gasp, and knows that he's never going to hear the end of it.

It's Juushimatsu who speaks up first. "Spots!" he shouts, sounding delighted, "I see spots!"

"Ah, he's right, Ichimatsu," he hears the flashlight click off and opens his eyes, finding Choromatsu still too close for comfort. "Your throat looks super sore—"

"No shit."

"—and you've got white patches all over the place. That could be bad. It might be strep."

That would explain a lot, but he's not about to just admit it and go along quietly. "So what if it is?"

Choromatsu looks horrified. "You—strep can be really dangerous! You need to go to the doctor; you won't get any better without antibiotics."

That's the last thing he wants to hear, but Choromatsu is usually right about this kind of thing. "…Fine," he mutters, pulling the mask back up over his nose and mouth, "which one of you idiots is going with me?"

It's a well-established rule by now that none of them should be forced to go to the doctor alone, lest he pass out on the train or slip and fall in the snow or something equally stupid, leaving him sick or hurt (sometimes both) by himself.

However, everyone, even Choromatsu, looks a little hesitant. Ichimatsu isn't exactly a ball of joy when he's well, and sick he can be kind of a nightmare to be around. One second he's weirdly affectionate and in need of a lot of attention, and the next he's completely miserable and cranky and wants to be left alone to die. (He knows this about himself, too, but there's no way that's going to change any time soon.) Since he seems firmly locked into the first state, going with him to take the train (which he hates) to see the doctor (which he also hates) isn't exactly the most thrilling prospect.

"I'll do it!" a voice pipes up, and everyone turns to see Karamatsu, already retrieving his and his brother's winter coats.

If stares could kill, Karamatsu would probably be on fire right now. "Anyone…else…?" Ichimatsu grinds out, not pleased at all by the prospect of spending his afternoon with Kusomatsu.

The other four just kind of shake their heads in unison, and so it's decided.

Ichimatsu grits his teeth as his sneakers slip on another thin sheet of ice, sending a glare Karamatsu's way when the elder brother reaches out to try and steady him. Stupid ice and stupid winter and stupid wind (which doesn't seem to be bothering Karamatsu in the least, even though he's wearing only his winter coat while Ichimatsu is bundled up in a scarf and hat and mittens). And stupid Karamatsu anyway, for being the only one to offer to come alone, and stupid brothers for letting him, and stupid, stupid sore throat, for being the cause of this whole goddamn mess in the first place.

He's pretty much seething by the time they reach the train station, and his head is pounding and his whole body aches and he feels a little bit like he's going to throw up, and this whole thing was just a bad idea. He should've resisted his idiot brothers and stayed at home and curled up in the corner and died, and then he wouldn't have had to deal with any of this.

Karamatsu must notice some shift in his demeanor, because once they're seated in the train he offers what he must intend to be a reassuring smile. "You can sleep, if you want. I won't bother you."

He tries to work up the energy to find something annoying in that offer, but in all honesty he's really exhausted, and he knows they've got a good forty minutes before their stop, and his fever-addled brain decides that's as good an excuse as any to slump sideways onto the shoulder of his least favorite person in the world.

"Ah—!" Karamatsu seems startled, to say the least, clearly not expecting his brother to actually take him up on his offer. "Are you sure this is okay?"

He nods, because the train car is warm and his idiot brother is warm and he feels like he's freezing (even though he knows he's not) and he figures this is as good as it's gonna get and he's in hell anyway so what should it matter if it's with Karamatsu?

And with that justification in mind, he's out in less than five minutes.

It's way too soon, then, when he feels someone trying to shake him awake. Annoyed, he pushes the hand away, but it only grows more insistent. "Ichimatsu," he hears, "our stop is next." Oh. Right. Karamatsu. He forces himself upright, ignoring the way the world tilts as he does so, and tries to stretch, feeling every stiff muscle in his body protest at the movement.

Soon enough, they're back out in the cold, and from there it's a relatively short walk to the clinic their family has used since they were kids. The receptionist at the desk seems nice, though he lets Karamatsu do all the talking, and then they're seated in the waiting area with an approximate wait time of 25 minutes.

He's just barely begun to doze off again when the door to the back room opens and a nurse calls out, "Matsuno Ichimatsu?" He stands, but Karamatsu catches him by the sleeve.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Ichimatsu glares, but then hesitates. On one hand, he is an adult, and adults do not need their brothers to come see the doctor with them—especially when they're Karamatsu. On the other hand, he could probably let Karamatsu do most of the talking again, which would spare him some of the horror of having to interact with a person outside of his immediate family. The latter quickly wins out.

The doctor recognizes them as soon as he steps through the door. "Ah, Matsuno brothers, it's been some time, Ichimatsu-kun," (easily recognizable by how terrible he looks), "and…" he pauses for a moment, "…Karamatsu-kun?" Karamatsu smiles, and the doctor looks relieved. "Alright, what seems to be the problem today?"

This is where Karamatsu graciously steps in. "Ichimatsu's had a sore throat for days, he's barely eating anything, he's exhausted, and he's running a fever."

The doctor nods. "Could be any number of infections going around this time of year. Let's have a look, shall we?" He produces a penlight from his pocket and asks Ichimatsu to follow it with his eyes, which he does. He checks his ears, declaring them clear, then listens to his heart and lungs, asking him to cough several times—which makes his eyes water in pain as the noise rips through his throat.

The doctor replaces the stethoscope around his neck, "Everything sounds good so far. That means no cold or flu for you. Can you remove your mask, please?"

Ichimatsu does, and quickly finds himself with a thermometer in his mouth. At the beep, the doctor frowns slightly, "39.4, that's fairly substantial…let's see now," he asks Ichimatsu to tip his head back so he can check his nose, then finally pulls a tongue depressor from a glass jar on the counter. "Open your mouth wide and say 'aah'," he instructs.

Reluctantly, Ichimatsu does, hating the taste of wood on his tongue and feeling just as ridiculous as when his brothers had made him do it earlier that afternoon.

"Well, I certainly see a problem there. It could be something viral, but I'm going to run a rapid strep test to be sure." He opens a drawer, retrieves and tears open a packet of sterile swabs. "Have you had this done before?"

"When I was a kid," Ichimatsu rasps, noting it's the first time he's spoken during the entire visit. "I don't really remember it, though."

"Basically, I'm going to swab your tonsils and the back of your throat to collect a sample. It will be uncomfortable and make you gag a little, but if you hold still, the whole test will be over in about five seconds. Okay?"

Five seconds sounds like a long time to have someone jamming a stick down your throat, but, figuring he has no other choice, Ichimatsu nods.

"Great. Same process, then. Stick out your tongue and say 'aah'…"

He does, a sense of dread coming over him as the swab nears, "aaaaahhhhhh—GLH," and he gags, hard enough that his whole head snaps forward, but it's only been two seconds and the doctor isn't finished yet, so he forces himself to still, mentally swearing he is never going to get another sore throat as long as he lives. Three more seconds and one big hacking gag later, the test is over.

"I'm sorry, that must have been painful. Would you like a drink of water?" the doctor offers. Ichimatsu shakes his head. "Well, we'll have the test results in ten to fifteen minutes, so I'll be seeing you shortly." And with that, he leaves the room.

Karamatsu leans forward, probably figuring he has to say something. What he settles on is, "Are you okay?"

"I hate it here," he grouses, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't think you're supposed to like it."

Ichimatsu has nothing to say to that, so he just tips his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

The doctor returns exactly twelve minutes later (though who's counting?), chart and prescription pad in hand. "You came back positive for strep," he informs him, "so I've written you a prescription for antibiotics, which you can pick up at the pharmacy on the corner."

Wordlessly, Ichimatsu nods, accepting the script.

"That's about all I can do for you today," the doctor says, wry smile on his lips. "Other than that, just stay hydrated and get plenty of rest. And try not to—yes, that's right," he agrees as Ichimatsu pulls the mask back up over his face, "As much as I'd love to see the rest of your brothers, maybe not under these circumstances, hm?"

And with that, they're out the door. The trip to the pharmacy is quick, and they're back on the train in no time. Ichimatsu doesn't sleep this time, instead staring dully out the window until their stop arrives.

The walk back to their home is, again, windy and freezing and hellish, but what awaits when they return is what Ichimatsu has been really dreading.

Sure enough, the brothers are all over him the second he steps through the door. "What do you have?" "Are you dying?" "Is it contagious?" "Do we all have it?" "Are we all going to die now?"

Thankfully, Choromatsu steps up, pushing everyone back a few feet. "God, guys, give him a little space." He looks down at Ichimatsu, who is very intent upon untying his shoe and meeting no one's eyes. "What did the doctor say?"

"He has strep," Karamatsu answers for him, "he's supposed to sleep, stay hydrated, and take antibiotics for ten days," he hands Choromatsu the pharmacy bag.

Choromatsu pulls out the bottle of pills. "Must be taken with food…may cause dizziness, nausea, upset stomach…I guess that's about right. It says you're supposed to take it twice a day, do you want to wait until dinner?"

Ichimatsu nods. Why begin the suffering early?

Dinner is, of course, a nightmare. All eyes are on him as he struggles with just one bowl of white rice. "It'll be soft for your throat, and easy on your stomach if the medication makes you nauseous," Choromatsu had said. But swallowing anything hurts his throat, and he's already nauseous anyway, so what's the point? He manages half the bowl before calling it quits, taking the pills with only a slight grimace at the bitter aftertaste.

He forgoes the public bath with his brothers—it's frowned upon to go when you have an infectious illness (not that he cares exactly, but if he gets one of them sick the whole world will probably come crashing down)—so he stays behind to quickly shower in the family's tiny bathroom. He could've gone without it, probably, but he feels sticky and gross from running this stupid fever, and figures he's much more likely to be looked after if he doesn't smell like a gym sock (not that he wants that, but still).

What he really, really wants is to go to bed, but he's too tired to roll out the futon by himself. Instead, he lays down on the floor until his light doze is broken by the raucous sound of his five brothers coming back into the house. He picks himself up long enough to let Osomatsu and Juushimatsu take care of the futon, crawling into bed the second his pillow is down. And, for once—not minding the brightness of the room or his brothers' enthusiastic chatter—he falls asleep within minutes.

He's disoriented when he wakes and the room is still dark. All of his brothers are still snoring away, and he's still exhausted, so why is he—oh. He presses a hand over his mouth through the mask, realizing how super incredibly nauseous he is. Slowly forcing himself into a sitting position, he wonders what he should do. He knows he absolutely one-hundred percent does not want to throw up here. (He's done it before—well, they all have, at some point—and it just ends up being really messy and awful and everyone has to get up and nobody gets any rest.) Then he wonders if he even is going to throw up. He hasn't been sick in a while, so he doesn't really have anything to compare this feeling against. Maybe he should just…lay back down? Isn't that supposed to be good for nausea?

He hears rustling from someone elsewhere in the bed and prays they're just turning over in their sleep, but no such luck—when another figure sits up he knows he's done for. It's, "…Osomatsu?" He wouldn't exactly have expected that. The eldest is typically one of the heavier sleepers (although then again, so is Ichimatsu), but, being the oldest, he seems to have developed some kind of freaky radar for when things are about to go badly.

Osomatsu gets himself all the way upright, rubbing sleep from his eyes before blinking in the dark at Ichimatsu. "Hey," he tilts his head to the side, "is everything okay?"

Ichimatsu wants to tell him yes, everything is fine, go back to sleep, but he's not entirely sure he could get the sentence out anyway so he just shakes his head.

"Aw, you—" Osomatsu covers his own mouth, reminding himself to whisper, "—you feel like you're gonna be sick?"

He nods.

"Okay, well, let's…get you to the bathroom, then. Can you make it to the bathroom?"

Another nod.

"Great. Let me…" he carefully wiggles himself out from in between Todomatsu and Choromatsu, tiptoeing around the edge of the futon to offer Ichimatsu his hand.

Ichimatsu allows himself to be pulled to his feet and led down the hall. He kneels in front of the toilet while Osomatsu flicks on the lights.

His elder brother smiles down at him a little, "You, uh, gotta take your mask off, dude."

Right. He knew that. He totally knew that. He's just…tired. And definitely still feverish. And nauseous as fuck. He removes the mask and tosses it up onto the sink counter.

Osomatsu shifts a little, still smiling but looking somewhat uneasy. "Do you want me to stay?" he asks.

"Can you?" the words are out of his mouth before he even has time to think about them, and he is immediately flooded with regret. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he wishes he could sink into the floor and go directly down into hell where he belongs. Or maybe this is hell, he's not really sure. Either way, he feels intensely vulnerable, which is an entirely unwelcome feeling as he waits for his brother to reject him, because who in their right mind wants to watch somebody barf, right?

There's a moment of stunned silence, then, "Of course I can!" Osomatsu pats him on the back as he kneels down on the floor beside him. "You can count on me!" He gives him his sunniest smile, and Ichimatsu feels like his chest might explode.

Osomatsu makes light conversation—mostly, he's talking to himself, about this or that thing that happened today—but Ichimatsu is grateful to have something else to focus on besides the sick feeling trying to climb its way up his throat. Eventually, though, all good things must end, and he soon finds his pulse racing, saliva filling his mouth, and he's barely able to get out an, "Osomatsu, I…I'm gonna…" before he's gripping the sides of the toilet for dear life. It's only rice…rice and water… he tries to remind himself as he watches puke splatter into the bowl with some sort of gross fascination, but then it burns and he's reminded of the existence of stomach acid. He coughs and sputters, tears springing to his eyes, but all that accomplishes is to make him gag again, and the whole process repeats itself.

Mercifully, eventually there's nothing left to throw up, and he's left to try and catch his breath, leaning up against something soft and warm. It takes a moment to register that this soft and warm thing is Osomatsu, and he's been rubbing his back this whole time, and he's saying something to him as well. "…now? …Hey, Ichimatsu, are you okay?"

He nods.

"Do you feel better?"

Why lie now? "My throat hurts." Really bad. Like, really bad.

A chuckle. "I kinda figured that. You're sort of crying a little."

Oh. He is. That's…embarrassing. But he feels kind of detached from his emotions right now, so he accepts the wad of toilet paper Osomatsu offers him, blowing his nose and wiping away any traces of tears from beneath his eyes. The elder brother reaches up to flush the toilet, then stands to offer him a hand getting up.

"You wanna rinse your mouth, right?" he asks, once Ichimatsu is more or less on his feet, "and maybe a sip or two of water, just in case. It'd be bad if you got dehydrated…hopefully you absorbed enough of that antibiotic for it to do you some good…" he muses. "Well, water first, anyway." He fills the purple plastic cup, fourth in line on the counter, and hands it to his brother.

Ichimatsu rinses and spits until he feels marginally more human again, opts against brushing his teeth (he doesn't want his toothbrush to taste like puke tomorrow morning), and takes a few tentative sips of water. It feels cool on his acid-burned throat, and his stomach seems relatively settled for now, so he dons his mask again and lets Osomatsu lead him back to bed.

He wakes up the next morning miserable and tired and with a pounding headache, but drags himself out of bed anyway because it seems like the thing to do. Breakfast is uneventful. He manages a little better than he had at dinner the night before, but glares at the pill bottle sitting tauntingly in front of his bowl.

He feels eyes on him and looks up to see that he's being stared down by Choromatsu. "Ichimatsu, you have to take them," his voice sounds exasperated, but his expression is mildly sympathetic, so Osomatsu must have told him what happened last night.

He turns his glare on Choromatsu. "I know." He's not stupid, after all, he just…doesn't want to. He'll take them, because he has to, because dying from some asshole sore throat bacteria is shittier than taking pills—but that doesn't mean he has to like it.

He helps clean up after breakfast—again, it seems like the thing to do—ignoring the way his brothers gape behind his back. And then it's business as usual—Osomatsu is off to waste money, Karamatsu is off to embarrass himself in public, Choromatsu has a…thing (they all know it's an idol concert, but he still never says the words out loud), Juushimatsu is already hustling out the door, and Todomatsu has a date.

This leaves Ichimatsu sitting in the middle of the floor, a gray-striped cat in his lap, wondering what to do with the rest of his day. He flops backwards, wondering for a brief moment if maybe he can just sleep like this and not have to do anything.

Very quickly on he discovers that yes, he can sleep like this, and he's out like a light.

He regrets this decision the moment he wakes up, when approximately every single part of his body hurts. The cat is still there, though, which is nice—although it jumps off his lap and scampers away when he disturbs it by sitting up.

He's still tired, but, looking at the clock, he notices it's already far past lunchtime—though, surprise, surprise, he isn't even remotely hungry. His throat hurts, and his stomach hurts, but he's mostly just bored. Being sick is boring.

He's sitting there on the floor, trying to decide if he's really bored enough to actually try and do something, when, abruptly, he feels himself being lifted. He panics for a moment, because what the fuck, but then he sees a bright flash of yellow and realizes it's Juushimatsu.

"What are you doing?" he asks as Juushimatsu sits down on the floor and sets him in his lap.

"Helping!"

"I didn't even hear you come in. I thought you were playing baseball."

A headshake so fast Ichimatsu swears he ought to have whiplash. "Not anymore, now I'm helping!"

"Uh…great, but what are you helping with?"

"Ichi-nii-san."

"I don't—I don't know what that means."

Suddenly Juushimatsu's face is a lot closer to his own. "Ichi-nii-san is achy, right? Head-achy and back-achy and tummy-achy, right?"

He nods, because it's the truth.

Juushimatsu's face brightens. "Then I will help!" He scoots them both back so he can lean against the couch, adjusting Ichimatsu in his lap. "Is this comfy?"

Ichimatsu wiggles a little until his head is resting beneath Juushimatsu's chin. "Yeah."

Rather than see, he can feel Juushimatsu beaming above him. And then he's suddenly got hands fumbling at the hem of his sweatshirt, until those hands have wormed their way beneath the fabric to rest on the bare skin of his stomach.

It takes all of his power not to jerk away, because it's a little-known secret that he's ticklish as hell, and whatever Juushimatsu has in mind at the moment is definitely not relaxing. "What are you doing now?" he asks, trying not to squirm.

"Tummy rub!" Juushimatsu replies enthusiastically, starting with small circles to demonstrate, "I do it to dogs at the park all the time, and they get super duper happy. I thought Ichi-nii-san might like it too!"

I'm not a dog, he wants to complain, but Juushimatsu's leaps of logic have never exactly been in line with reality. Besides, his brother's hands are kind of warm, and a lot less tickly when he's not wriggling his fingers. And, after a few moments of this, he realizes it actually is sort of helping to ease the icky crampy feeling that's been in the pit of his stomach since breakfast. So he lets him keep at it.

Eventually, the warmth of Juushimatsu's hands on his belly and his chest against his back are starting to make Ichimatsu sleepy…really, really sleepy…and he's just about to say something when the rubbing comes to a halt. He's a little surprised, until he feels his brother's chin fall heavily on the top of his head. Oh. He's asleep.

Figuring this is about as good as it gets, Ichimatsu decides to settle in for the long run, closing his own eyes as well. When he hears another of his brothers noisily enter the house, he wonders if he should move, but it's too late for that. It turns out to be Osomatsu, who only cocks his head to the side a little and asks, "What are you guys doing?"

Ichimatsu opens one eye. "He's helping."

And that's all there is to it.

Someone—Choromatsu, maybe? although he's not lucid enough to really tell—shakes them both awake just in time for dinner. Juushimatsu bounds right up, but it takes Ichimatsu a little longer to get his aching limbs to cooperate. While his brother's lap had been comfortable at the time, it turns out it wasn't really the best spot for prolonged napping.

Dinner is kind of a blur. He doesn't eat much again and still has to take those stupid pills, and before he knows it, it's bathtime already. That gets the big red 'X' right away. He's been sleeping all day and he still feels exhausted, and he's really not up to the idea of sitting in or under or anywhere remotely around hot water for fear that he'll fall asleep and drown. So the brothers bid him goodbye as they gather their things and head out the door, leaving him sitting on the couch to contemplate his next move.

That is, until Todomatsu plops down beside him.

"Aren't you going with everyone else?" he asks, genuinely curious. Todomatsu's pretty finicky about hygiene these days (probably a result of actually spending time around people who aren't his family), so Ichimatsu would've pinned him as the last person to skip bathtime.

"Nah, I'll shower in the morning. I have work tomorrow, and it helps me wake up," is the simple reply.

That…makes sense, he guesses. Though with the cutesy smile and intent stare he's now receiving, he can't help but wonder if there's more. "What?"

"Do you wanna watch a movie?"

Ichimatsu blinks, a little taken aback. Todomatsu just said he has to work tomorrow, but now he's offering to spend the better part of two hours sitting on the couch next to Ichimatsu's germy ass? He squints, trying to find some hint of malice in the offer, but it actually seems…genuine? Realizing he's been quiet for too long, he finally replies, "Uh…sure, I guess. If you want to."

And that's that. He lets Todomatsu pick the movie—it's some kinda artsy film he's never heard of before, but that's okay. He doesn't know what he would have picked to begin with, and he's pretty sure he's not going to be able to stay awake through the whole thing anyway.

Sure enough, not fifteen minutes into the movie, he already feels himself falling asleep. He still hasn't quite figured out what it's about (flowers, maybe? or…nice scenery in general?) but the music is relaxing and he can't help but harbor a secret suspicion that Todomatsu chose this one on purpose. As he drifts off, he thinks he feels the vague sensation of a hand rubbing gently up and down his side—but he's probably only imagining it.

When he wakes, it's to the soft sound of the end credits. He blinks a few times, noticing the world seems kinda…sideways, before registering the fact that he's leaning on Todomatsu's shoulder. The younger brother smiles down at him before asking, "How did you like the movie?"

Ichimatsu snorts. "It was great. Smartass." His throat is achingly dry, but he feels a sort of sticky wetness at the corner of his mouth, and the inside of his mask, and—"Shit, I drooled on you."

"You did."

"Sorry."

"It'll wash out," Todomatsu assures him, oddly calm for someone Ichimatsu had been convinced was totally grossed out by all bodily fluids other than his own. "Do you remember that time," he starts, "when we were, like, I dunno, seven? And we were at the beach, and I swallowed a bunch of seawater, and threw up right in your lap? That was way worse."

Ichimatsu shrugs. "It's not like you could've helped it. Plus, the ocean was right there, so it wasn't like it was hard to get cleaned up."

Todomatsu laughs. "You're so weird, Ichimatsu-nii-san."

Everyone bursts in right at that moment, yelling excitedly about something amazing Juushimatsu had done while bathing. Ichimatsu doesn't exactly catch all the details as he changes into his pajamas with the others, but apparently it had involved several rubber ducks and a rather impressive series of backflips.

They roll out the futon and he's the first one in bed (again), but nobody else seems ready to sleep yet, chattering away about their respective days. Osomatsu won at pachinko (a rarity), Karamatsu failed to score, but he did help a little old lady with her groceries so he's chalking that up as a win, Choromatsu had a great time at his…thing, Juushimatsu swung his bat 4,588 times, and Todomatsu's date went exactly as planned (and he's got the selfies to prove it.)

It's kind of nice when we all get along like this, Ichimatsu thinks sleepily, rolling over to block out some of the light. What an embarrassing goddamn thought. But it's true, and he's not going to take the time to argue with his dumb half-fried brain at the moment. Not when he's comfortable and drifting, listening to the fuzzy background noise of conversation.

Then he hears, "What about you, Ichi—oh, he's asleep." It's Choromatsu's voice, and Ichimatsu doesn't bother correcting him. "We should probably go to bed too, it's getting kinda late."

There's a murmured consensus among the group, and soon they're all shuffling to round the futon and slip into their respective spaces. However, each of them has one last thing to say.

"Night, Ichi-nii-san."

"Goodnight, Ichimatsu."

"Night, little bro."

"Goodnight, Ichimatsu-nii-san."

"Sleep well, Ichimatsu."

And then the light clicks off.

Never, not in a million years, not under pain of torture or threat of death, would he ever admit it—but he feels just a little bit like crying…except in a good way? And he honestly doesn't know what to do with this weird mixture of emotions. His first impulse is to recoil, because he doesn't like the strange sense of vulnerability that comes along with all this. It's too much. It's too stressful. But then again, while the warm feeling in his chest is bizarre, it's also somehow familiar—and at that moment he decides that, just this once, he'll let himself enjoy the sensation of being loved.

He falls asleep smiling.